Vegeta's ship crashed onto the grounds of Capsule Corp. It was late evening when he arrived, and the sun had begun to set. Anxious to breath fresh air, he emerged from the deck. Hearing the landing, Bulma and others had rushed over to the source of the noise.
"Vegeta! You're back."
Bulma's mother immediately offered the Saiyan some iced tea. Vegeta ignored her. Yamcha remarked to himself about how he had not expected Vegeta to return.
"Holy shit, Vegeta! You smell terrible! The ship had a shower, you know. Go upstairs and get in the shower right now." Bulma had approached him to give him a more personal greeting, but his aroma of sorts kept her at a distance.
Vegeta was fully aware of his stench. He had refrained from proper hygiene habits for a very specific reason, namely that he, with his training regimen and general constitution, had needed to drink the ship's supply of water rather than bathe in it. He had learned this the hard way on one of his first extended interstellar missions. Although he had a distaste for the way she had ordered him, he followed her anyway, as he already had every intention to clean himself up. "Woman, your impudence does not suit you."
"Does that mean that more ladylike manners do suit me?" She smirked as she led him into one of the bathroom suites. Vegeta said nothing. "Go in and take off your clothes. I'll wash them for you, and I'll leave you some clean things to wear in your room."
The Saiyan disappeared behind the door, undressed, then opened the door slightly to hurl his suit at her. "Do not damage them, servant woman!"
"Excuse me! 'Woman' is not my name, and I am not your 'servant!'"
"Cease your prattle. I wish to take a shower."
"You're an ungrateful prick. You know that, right?"
"Leave me." He turned on the water, letting her know he would no longer listen to her. Bulma growled in frustration as she gathered his clothes and exited the room.
He did not have the will to interact with anyone. He was tired, and had looked forward to a hot shower for weeks. Feeling near-scalding water cascade down his back made his heated blood rush pleasantly. The sensation brought on a mild euphoria, and his mind would empty, becoming all body. Because so many of his heavy thoughts would drain away, he often felt quite mellow and drowsy afterward. Before he had left to track down Kakarot, he had established a routine of showering just before retiring to bed. He would go to bed once he felt sufficiently clean.
Steam rose off his flushed skin as he began to dry off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and lumbered lazily to the room the Briefs had designated as his. Cold, white light from the moon stretched across the bed and the floor; it beamed brightly enough to cast shadows. Vegeta noticed that Bulma had laid out clean Earthling clothes on top of a dresser. Methodically, he removed the towel from his waist and hung it to dry on a hook nailed onto back of the door. All seemed orderly, and he liked order. Too lethargic to bother with them, he slipped into the sheets without nightclothes. The smooth cotton caressed his still hot skin like ghostly hands, and he was supremely happy to be embodied at that moment. He admitted to himself with very little hesitation that he loved Earthling beds. Nothing he remembered on Planet Vegeta compared to them. Sleep took him quickly.
He woke up in a cramped Saiyan space pod. A vague dread filled his heart; it seemed wrong for him to be there.
A woman's hand, cold and sharp as ice, gripped his thigh. Vegeta turned, and his face met that of a Saiyan noblewoman. Her head hung from her shoulders at an odd angle. The sparkling darkness of her eyes contrasted with her deathly white skin. Her lips parted sensually and her teeth bared, she stared up to lock her gaze with Vegeta's. Maintaining eye-contact, she lightly swept her tongue across his neck, just under his jaw. An inaudible cry escaped from his throat.
Wildly, Vegeta's eyes darted all around him in a frantic search for a way out. The woman continued kissing his neck uncaringly, slowly dragging her lower lip upwards and across his cheek. Frozen in confusion, panic, and wonder, Vegeta remained motionless as the woman's icicle hands drifted upwards to cradle his head. Her mouth met his, her black hair draping the both of them.
In his mind, Vegeta felt sick to his stomach, but outwardly, his veins pulsed with an energy verging on ecstasy. The noblewoman climbed onto his lap, lifting the skirt of her gown as she did so. Then, she leaned back, reached one hand to her shoulder, gripped the thin chain holding up the fabric of her top, and let it slide down her arm. The shifting weight of her body against his hips forced Vegeta to let out a sigh that sounded somewhere between pained and surprised.
He had not realized it until now, but he was naked. Distress broke him out of his stupefaction, and he grabbed the woman's waist violently with all his strength. She smiled wickedly. "You are not stronger than death," she rasped. Digging her nails into his chest, she shoved him back so effortlessly that her face kept its tender expression. She kissed him again. "Vegeta," she whispered into his ear. It sent shivers down his back. It felt so unnatural to melt into a block of ice.
"Vegeta," she whispered again. Her right hand wandered down between their bodies and found his erection. He closed his eyes; he couldn't stand to watch, to look at her. She lowered herself onto him. "Vegeta," she said, louder this time. The cold vacuum of space closed in all around him, and his core burned as if grated raw by a blizzard wind...
He woke up from his dream.
"Vegeta!" someone cried. It was Bulma.
Vegeta's eyelids jerked open. He saw Bulma standing over him, wearing an ivory satin nightgown. The material resembled that of the Saiyan noblewoman's dress all too much. He gasped.
"Vegeta! You were making noises in your sleep. It woke me up. It's okay. You can go back to sleep. I just got a little freaked out and had to see what was going on, to see if something bad had happened. It's okay. Everything's okay."
"Away from me! Get out—!" he roared gutturally. He hadn't fully come to himself.
He seemed crazed, and Bulma fled in fear, shutting the door tightly behind her. Vegeta caught his breath and remembered where he was. His nightmare faded as quickly as it had come. Within minutes, his mind had forgotten its sharper details. He turned over in his bed, wanting to lose consciousness and forget everything. Lying on his stomach, he couldn't help but notice that the warmth between his legs had not subsided. He flung a pillow against the wall in sheer anger. He felt so unclean.
