Prompt: Lust.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own DBZ or any of the characters. They belong to Akira Toriyama.

Yamcha turned his back on the pair, happily surprised that he hadn't been physically assaulted by either of them, and headed back toward the house. The human and Saiyan watched the tall figure disappear behind the door, leaving them in an unbelievable silence. The duo stood there in the blazing sun, both their arms crossed and staring at the closed door as if they expected Yamcha to come back out.

The reality of things was that both adults were pondering over the situation and Yamcha's words. Vegeta looked at the woman from the corner of his eye, wondering just where and when the weak Earthling had collected a pair of balls to speak his mind for once. As if the blatant disrespect coming from the scarred human wasn't bad enough, then said human had so generously offered up his ex-girlfriend as a source of entertainment. He couldn't deny the joy he felt at the offer, since the woman had handed his training room over to his rival, but there was something about the situation that he didn't like.

The Saiyan didn't need to look at her to know she was pissed at the man who had just walked away. It wasn't just her miniscule amount of ki spiking within her, it was the air around them. He could feel the electricity sparking through the air and it sent a small tingle down his spine. The feeling was unwelcome and unwanted as he felt the odd yet familiar heat of lust seep into his blood.

"Do you have anything for me to do?"

The question came out of nowhere, breaking Bulma from her anger. She stared at the alien, unsure of how to answer because she wasn't quite sure if he was just being an ass. So instead of answering, she decided to narrow her eyes and think through her options. "Oh please," she began a bit sarcastically, "don't tell me you're going to take Yamcha's words seriously."

He offered a small shrug. One corner of his mouth turned up quickly before fading back into a straight line. "You've barred off my normal training routine."

Her arms unfolded and her hands—palms out—came up between them. "So go train somewhere else. Isn't that what you'd normally do?"

"Unfortunately your friend has a point," he admitted a bit dismally.

Bulma groaned. "And now you expect me to entertain you?" Why her? "Go find Yamcha and pick a fight for all I care. I have stuff to do today," she grumbled, ready to head back inside.

"It can wait, I'm sure," he said through a toothy grin. His arms remained crossed over his chest and his feet stayed planted on the ground. He had made no move to stop her this time, yet he noted her pause then freeze to the spot she had stepped to.

Her lips pinched together and she closed her eyes for a moment as she lifted her head toward the sky. "Fine. You can be my personal slave for the day." When her serious eyes met his furious ones she laughed. "Oh, I'm supposed to entertain you." She hummed lightly, a finger rising to tap at her lips as she thought. Blue stayed connected to black, watching his features for any sign other than hatred to appear. "Look, if you don't wanna do this, just say so." Her hands landed back down on her hips. "If this is just your stubborn ass trying to prove a point, I really don't want to be involved."

He blew out a silent sigh, willing his body to relax. His arms uncrossed to rest at his sides and his eyes became a little less narrowed. "I will not do petty labor work for you, but if you have a real suggestion then I'm listening."

His neutral tone had Bulma's eyes going wide for a second. Vegeta was seriously asking for suggestions to relieve his boredom? She wanted to smile, laugh, point in his face, but she held the overpowering urge back. "Okay," she answered a bit softly. "How about you teach me how to fight?"

A loud barking laugh cut across the heated atmosphere, making Bulma shiver. She had never heard Vegeta laugh and it was an odd noise to her senses, and she wasn't sure if the chill going through her body was fear or pleasure. Fortunately she didn't have time to dwell on it as Vegeta finally spoke.

"Teach you? And just what will that accomplish? You have no power level to put any energy behind your attacks," he scoffed, remembering the punch she'd delivered to him and how it had hurt her. Without warning, a finger was poking was chest and blue eyes were inches away from his dark ones. Their noses were almost touching and he could feel her breath fanning against his mouth and cheek.

"It's called basic defense!" she seethed, yet remaining cautious of how close she was standing to Vegeta. "And you should know that most humans are just as weak as me." She backed off a little, as her tirade ended. She pulled her hand back as well, placing it back on her hip. "If you don't want to help me, then fine." She took another step back. "I've got plenty of stuff to keep me occupied throughout the day."

Vegeta's spine straightened, his neck twisting to pop and relieve some of the tension. "What do you expect me to teach you?" A sneer covered his features, showing his unwillingness, but his tone had remained neutral and unstrained.

She gave a tiny shrug. "Basic defense? How to punch correctly. What's a good stance?" she rattled off, her eyes drifting up towards the sky as she thought.

"So everything I learned when I was 3 years old?" he mocked her inexperience.

Bulma just narrowed her eyes and answered, "Yes. So are you gonna show me or not?"

"First," he started, "let's work on your fist." He was having trouble fathoming just how this woman was around so many warriors yet couldn't even form a proper fist. Had she really no interest in fighting or had the other men brushed her aside? He snorted as her hand rose and formed into a loose ball. "Pathetic." He took hold of her hand, his fingers maneuvering hers into their correct position before squeezing his hand around hers to tighten the now properly made fist.

"Oh." Bulma could feel a blush rising to her cheeks, but she concentrated her focus on her hand. "So I've been folding my fingers wrong all these years?" she asked, mostly to herself.

"You obviously have never been in a real fight then. You would've broken some fingers if you had," he snorted derisively. A well-formed fist planted itself into his shoulder, only to have it pulled away again.

"Dammit!" the woman shouted as she shook out her hand again. "Okay, so what about stances? Something that can make me hit harder?" she questioned as she looked down at her throbbing hand.

"Not that it would do you any good against me," he scoffed again, but a faint smile turned his lips up. He couldn't deny that the woman had spirit, but she was treading on dangerous ground if she thought she was going to be able to use this training session as an excuse to beat on him.

Bulma watched as Vegeta crouched, his knees bent slightly and his chest pushed forward. His arms extended forward and his hands balled into fists.

"Stay on-guard for any move your opponent will make." A fist shot forward, stopping right in front of her nose and he smirked.

Her eyes went wide and she stumbled backward a few steps before opening her mouth only to have it close again. After taking a few seconds to collect herself, she crouched just as he did—or so she thought. When she saw his face, she looked down at herself. "What?"

Instead of saying anything, the Saiyan walked towards her and stepped behind her so he could nudge one of her foots slightly forward. He walked back around, looking at her posture once again, and deciding that it was still wasn't right. Both hands wrapped around her right thigh, picking the leg up and throwing her off balance.

Bulma's hand landed on his shoulder's as she tried to keep her balance. "You did that on purpose," she hissed, her mouth hovered over the shell of his ear. She heard a chuckle before her foot was rotated slightly and placed back on the ground. "Jerk," she spat as he straightened himself.

Vegeta took a step back, ignoring the degrading remark. Finally deciding that her legs were properly positioned, his eyes traveled up. "Too loose," he commented as he looked over her upper posture.

"Excuse me!" Bulma half-shouted before she watched Vegeta step behind her again. She felt the heavy weight of his hands press on her shoulders, moving them down. A hand skimmed down her spine, stopping in the middle and pushing it slightly forward. A chilling tremor coursed through her body and she couldn't stop her herself from shivering.

"You okay?" his tone held a bit of amusement, as the hand still on her shoulder kept her from losing her form. He leaned forward, his mouth now directed over her ear. "I won't be offended if you tell me you can't handle this."

Her head whipped away from his mouth as her body regained a stiffer posture. "I'm absolutely fine. A breeze just hit me." She heard a low hum beside her and she knew Vegeta wasn't buying her obvious lie—for there had been no sign of a breeze all day.

Ignoring the heady feeling rushing through his own body, Vegeta continued his lesson. His hands positioned the woman's body as it needed it and instructed on how to move after he was through.

Unbeknownst to the teacher and student, a set of eyes watched from the house. The empty pizza box had been thrown away, and Yamcha now stood looking out the kitchen's window. When he'd suggested Bulma could find something for the Saiyan Prince to do, he hadn't necessarily been thinking that she would personally entertain him, but he had been wrong. He shouldn't have been surprised, mad, or even disappointed by the turn of events. He could see the tension between them from a mile away, he had for quite some time now, yet his mind and heart didn't want to believe it just as Bulma and Vegeta were surely pushing the thoughts to the back of their minds.

He pulled away from the window as Vegeta finally left his post from behind Bulma—after the alien had gotten a good view of her backside—and moved in front of her, holding his open hands up for her to hit. A dejected sigh left his lips as he headed through the quiet house and out the front door, intent on washing the memories away.