Blue Doll, by LadyVegeets

-04 Role Play-

[THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN CENSORED PER FFNET'S RULES REGARDING MATURE CONTENT. READ THE UNCENSORED VERSION ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN]

Raditz and Nappa were darting anxious glances his way. Vegeta steadfastly ignored them to read the memo on his scouter display for the third time, just to be clear he understood it correctly.

They were being ordered to stand down.

It appeared that some intricate galactic politics were in play. A dispute between Frieza, his brother Cooler, and a few other powerful galactic 'allies' (that term being used more generously than literally) had come to a head. Until the politics could be resolved (or war was declared), all of the Frieza Force was to halt activities and remain on standby at their current locations.

It was essentially a forced vacation. Most would have been thrilled.

But not Vegeta. Being told what to do never settled well with him even in the best of situations, and this was far from that. Being told he couldn't travel, couldn't kill, couldn't essentially do whatever the fuck pleased him in the name of galactic expansion was tantamount to being collared. Caged.

Or so it normally would have. Only Vegeta was in what one could call a 'good mood', which was remarkable considering there was no blood on his hands, just the lingering scent of a blue sex doll's juices still on his fingers hidden under his gloves, and the peace that a good night's sleep brought.

His men were waiting for the fallout, to see if Vegeta would blow something up or tell them to ignore their orders and fly off to wipe out another unfortunate civilization.

"Try not to get in my way, or I'll kill you," he told them nonchalantly. He walked away, off to inquire about the nearest training facility. If he was going to be stuck here a while, he would need something to keep himself busy with. That was, until night came around and he could visit the woman in secrecy.

Raditz and Nappa shared a look, floored by his lack of reaction.

~xox~

It was strange to be returning to her so soon. Vegeta thought it would be weeks, months, or even years before he could see her again, if he could even see her again. Instead, it was less than a day later when he walked back into the brothel.

Was he overstaying his welcome returning so soon? Was it weird? Was there some unwritten etiquette about these things that he was unaware of? He didn't know, he had never been to the same place more than once, and he was damned if he was going to ask Nappa or Raditz about proper protocol. Those idiots wouldn't know protocol if it bit them on the tail.

The fuck does it matter anyway? She's a whore. You're the client. She'll open her legs for whoever has the credits.

That pep talk didn't make him feel any better.

Neither did the sight of the S Rank room when it came into view: there was another costumer already perusing the wares.

It was a Cephalopian, a creature that looked like the offspring of an octopus. Revolting. Vegeta stopped by the doorway, watching from a distance. If the Cephalopian was an abomination of nature, at least it had good taste. It was stood before the blue doll's display, eyeing her critically.

Vegeta crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. His tail tightened about his waist, the tip flicking restlessly.

The woman was sitting on her chair. She gave the Cephalopian a small polite smile before glancing down at her nail polish. Her demeanor was a far cry from the interest she showed Vegeta. He tried not to let it go to his head.

But he failed as soon as she looked up and saw him. Her face lit up, and a strange warmth coursed through him. She stood, approaching the glass, pressing her hands to her window, totally ignoring the other client to smile at him. Vegeta's fingers tightened on his biceps, resisting the urge to smile back.

The Cephalopian turned to see what had caught the girl's eye. It and Vegeta eyed each other off, assessing the threat of the other. Vegeta smirked. There were only a handful of people in the universe that could best him, and he knew exactly who and where they were. He also knew the Cephalopian would underestimate him because of his size. Everyone always did. Everyone always regretted it.

"You don't want that one. She's too mouthy," Vegeta commented, still leaning lazily against the doorway.

The Cephalopian didn't respond, eyeing him with unreadable glassy eyes.

"I don't think it knows the galactic tongue," the woman commented.

The creature blinked.

Vegeta's tail twitched. "Just because it doesn't speak the language, doesn't mean it doesn't understand it," Vegeta replied carefully. She was probably right, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He looked away and walked over to a different display, pretending to be interested in one of the other S Rank dolls. From the corner of his eye he saw the Cephalopian turn back to stare at the blue-haired woman.

"Hey!" the woman called out to him, tapping on the glass. She sounded nervous, almost panicked. It made him smile. It felt good to be the one ruffling her feathers for a change. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Browsing," he replied, schooling his face into nonchalance. "You seem occupied. I would hate to interfere."

"You can't be serious."

"Watch me."

There was a strange, shrill clacking sound. The Cephalopian was chirping at the blue doll. It pressed a long sucking tentacle to the glass.

The woman went pale. Her blue eyes darted from the tentacle, up to Vegeta. She didn't say anything. She had no authority or right to ask for his help. But she didn't have to. It was written so clearly in her trembling blue eyes.

He shouldn't care. What difference was it to him if some other thing fucked her? She was a whore. That's what she did: get fucked by others. But it was different actually seeing the transaction taking place, knowing what the client looked like, imagining those horrendous tentacles slipping all over her, wriggling, sucking, violating her. Knowing he could stop it, at least this once, if he cared to intervene.

That's what he was here for, right? To fuck her? He was Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans. He didn't wait for his turn. It wasalways his turn. He wasn't saving her, he was just taking what was rightfully his.

Right?

The Cephalopian's tentacle smeared slime all over the window while the woman struggled not to look horrified. At some point her robe had come apart. The idiot. Had she no shame? No wonder the Cephalopian was drooling over her. She was unwittingly showing off her creamy belly and her soft little cunt. The sight of it made Vegeta's cock start to swell and his blood rush through him in a familiar fight or flight response. Vegeta always chose fight.

The creature peeled its limb off the window and dug in its pockets. It pulled out a card, ready to swipe its credits for a session with the girl. Vegeta felt a bolt of urgency jolt through him.

He slapped his hand over the sensor before the Cephalopian could scan its card. He didn't even remember moving, acting on pure instinct. But he was committed now. The Cephalopian turned its inky gaze onto him.

Vegeta returned the stare, peeling his lips back from his canines in a nasty grin. "I told you before. You don't want this one."

It was a standoff. Neither moved. The Cephalopian looked at Vegeta, taking in his armor, his aggressive posture, and his dark wild gaze. Vegeta ever-so-subtly shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, preparing to attack. His blood rushed, pumping adrenalin through him, whetting his appetite for a fight. How easily would those tentacles pop off? His black eyes burned with manic excitement at the thought.

Slowly, carefully, the Cephalopian pocketed its card. It backed up a few paces, turned, and left. Vegeta didn't lower his guard until the creature was out of sight, amused that the thing had the sense to flee.

Disappointed that he didn't get his fight.

Finally, he turned and saw the woman watching him, her pale eyes wide, startled.

Was she scared? For him? Or of him? Vegeta normally relished instilling fear in others, but the idea of her being terrified of him was… somehow less appealing.

He pulled out his card, hesitant, if just for a moment. Then he pushed his weakness aside, crushing it with his usual brutality. Maintaining eye contact with her, daring her to deny him, he swiped his card against the sensor. She watched him pay for her with an unreadable expression, unusually quiet.

Something had changed. He could feel it.

When his credits cleared for payment, a door to the side unlocked. He hesitated to step inside, uncertain of her behavior. Her own door in the back of her display opened. She glanced at him from over her shoulder before she stepped through and slipped out of sight.

He followed her lead, stepping inside the door and heading up the stairs to her private room. Apprehension twisted in his gut.

When he let himself into her room, she threw herself on him. He took a step back in surprise, but the familiar smell of her and the warm press of her body ignited something explosive. He gathered her up in his arms.

"You can do anything you want to me," she whispered fiercely in his ear.

The apprehension building inside him shattered, bursting with relief.

"Like I need your permission," he growled back, trying to sound cocky to cover up for the fact that he thought he had fucked things up between them. He wrenched her robe off her slender shoulders and crushed her against the nearest wall. He reached for her CENSORED with his gloved hand, surprised to find her already wet. CENSORED

She arched against him, moaning loudly. "H-oh Kami!"

"You're wet," he commented CENSORED.

She whimpered, writhing restlessly between him and the wall. "I get wet whenever I see you."

He wanted to scoff, but how could he when the evidence of her confession was right in front of him, soaking through his gloves CENSORED

She glanced at him through slitted, desire-filled eyes, her cheeks rosy with lust. "Would you have fought him?" she asked.

"What?"

"The other client," she explained, her voice breathless CENSORED. "If he hadn't backed down. Would you have fought him for me?"

"No," Vegeta replied matter-of-factly. "I would have killed him."

CENSORED. "H-oh..! Th-they would have kicked you out for it," she said, sounding more excited than concerned.

He leaned in, pressing his brow to hers, staring unflinchingly into her eyes. "I would like to see them try," he purred threateningly.

Her breath stuttered out, her eyes sparking wildly. "Y-you're that strong?"

She was getting off on his strength, his potential for violence. He grinned viciously. "I am. Stronger than you could imagine. I could destroy this measly planet with the flick of a finger," he assured her, and just for good measure, curled his fingers inside her.

She jolted and moaned, her hips moving desperately against his hand. Her mouth hovered precariously close to his own, panting against his mouth. "Do you destroy a lot of planets?"

"Sometimes," he admitted.

"That's not very nice," she chastised.

"Tch. Being nice is for weaklings."

"I think you're nice," she murmured huskily.

He glared at her, frowning, confused as to why he felt flattered about that. "There's not a single nice thing about me," he denied. "I'm a very bad man."

She laughed softly. Not the reaction he was expecting. "That's okay. I'm a very bad girl."

He growled, partly in annoyance. Mostly in arousal. This conversation was too confusing. He just wanted to bury himself in her and forget about who he was, his life, his bad deeds, everything. He pulled his fingers from her, dismissing her moan of protest. He leaned back enough to pull his armor and gloves off and toss them aside, not caring where they landed. He reached down to free himself from his suit, but her hands beat him to it.

"Allow me."

She reverently pulled him from his pants, stroking CENSORED with skillful fingers. His eyelids half-lowered, appeased. She treated him well, the way a prince ought to be worshipped. His tail snuck up, wrapping around her waist, keeping her close.

"You see?" she commented with a smug smile as she tugged silkily on his cock. "This part of you is very nice." He narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn't take the hint. "There's a lot about you that's nice. You don't have to be a bad man if you don't want to, you know. Not here. You can be anything you want to be here."

He braced his arm on the wall above her head, leaning towards her. "Fantasy is for those unable to accept reality."

"Or for those who dream of something better," she countered.

Oh please, spare him the dreamy-eyed rhetoric. "How the fuck is a whore an idealist?" he asked scathingly.

"How is a prince a pessimist?" she replied with a sultry smile. "You can destroy planets and buy the most beautiful woman in this brothel — and dare-I-say, galaxy — and yet you are so jaded and unhappy."

He stiffened, his tail tightening dangerously around her. "…What makes you think I'm unhappy?" As soon as he asked the question, he knew what her answer would be.

"Your eyes."

Damn her.

She gave him a bitter-sweet smile. "Well, maybe not unhappy. Lonely, I guess. Why else would you be here?"

"Not for your lip," he snarled, pressing his weight into her, not the least bit pleased she was trying to analyze him. "Don't project your own pathetic emotions onto me. I'm here for your cunt. Nothing more."

"Then why not fuck one of the others? Why risk a fight to have me if any cunt will do?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

Because the others don't interest me. Because the others don't haunt me, day and night. Because fucking them wouldn't allow me the most restful sleep I've had in years. Because the other whores don't look at me the way you do. They don't smile at me, or cum for me.

She was the only woman who made him feel like more than just a client. She made him feel like a man.

A man that mattered.

He was still struggling to think of a reply when it occurred to him he didn't owe her one. How long had he been in the habit of answering her questions? Perhaps coming back here so soon had been an ill idea.

And then she did the damnedest thing. She kissed him.

It was soft, almost chaste, her lips warmly pressing over his. He stilled in shock, unable to respond.

She leaned back, and gave him a coy smile, her fingers still teasing his cock. "Thank you for coming back."

His mind was a mess, he could hardly process what was going on. "I didn't come back for you," he replied automatically, hollowly. Trying to maintain the illusion of control.

"I know," she said, giving him a secretive smile. "But I'm still happy you did."

I don't care what you think, he wanted to say, but if that were true, why was he blushing? He scowled and did the only thing he could think to do. He knocked her hand away and pushed himself into her CENSORED.

She sighed in exquisite satisfaction, her eyes fluttering closed. "Oooh yesss, good boy," she crooned.

"Tch." He pressed himself up against her, cheek to cheek, so that he could avoid her eyes CENSORED "Is that what you fantasize me to be? A good man?" he asked cruelly. "Some charming prince, come to save you?"

"Do you think I need saving?" she replied breathlessly, her hands stroking his back. "We can go with that. If you want to be my hero, I'll let you. It's all possible here. And I think you're nicer than you let on."

"Then you're a fool," he grumbled, but he couldn't put much vehemence in his words. She was the first person to ever believe in him, to see potential in him that went beyond genocide.

And that made him unbearably uncomfortable. He deflected by throwing the focus back on her. "And who would you be? Some helpless imprisoned princess?"

"No," she moaned. "I would be a genius scientist, a space explorer traversing the galaxy for secret technology in a craft I built myself, until space pirates caught me and sold me into slavery."

"Oh?" he asked, getting the uneasy feeling that her words rang with more truth than fancy.

"Mm-hmm. And what about you, bad man? What would you be?"

CENSORED "…A prince without a throne, without people or a planet," he said so softly she could only hear because he spoke against her ear. "Unable to fulfill a prophecy or break the shackles of a powerful overlord."

"What a dark make-believe we imagine," she commented sadly. "We both get fucked over."

He didn't respond right away. It felt… oddly cathartic to admit that to her, even if he did so under the guise of role playing.

"What would I call the scientist?" he finally asked.

"Bulma," she said. Of course. He had all but forgotten that she had a name. She hadn't been a person to him, just a toy he could fuck and who stroked his ego nicely. And for that, he almost felt guilty. "And the prince?" she asked.

"…Vegeta."

"A strong name for a strong warrior prince," she complimented. His tail squeezed her middle thankfully.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he fucked her slowly against the wall. When she came, she sobbed his name loudly into the confines of their room.

[THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN CENSORED PER FFNET'S RULES REGARDING MATURE CONTENT. READ THE UNCENSORED VERSION ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN]

~xoXox~

AN: beta-read by the incredibly talentedArtephile / Marcella-Duchamp.

This series was written for the Spring 2017 Vegebul Smutfest hosted by The Prince and the Heiress Google community.