Forgotten

It was unnerving how hushed Capsule Corporation was at night and Vegeta took to laying beside Bulma almost immediately. For her, worry slowly dissolved to appreciation as it seemed as if he would be continually warming her bed.

Nothing that had happened lately met her expectations, but not in a negative way. Certainly the events of the tournament were mildly upsetting, and she had nearly convinced herself that Vegeta would make another attempt on Goku's life. Yet the two came back within the hour of their departure, unscathed and demanding cake in celebration. This was not the prince's typical reaction to failure. Stringent procedures usually occurred when something did not meet the Saiyan's standards.

A different aura radiated from the prince lately - something passive, yet contradictorily intense in nature. Everyday tasks took a brighter hue, the details noted instead of discarded. He initiated conversation. He participated in leisure time. He smiled.

Before, when the prince would upturn his lips, it wasn't a smile. It was approval, or sarcasm, or a sneer in disguise. Now he tended to display his top row of teeth, allow a slight crinkle around his eyes, and his cheeks showed dimples. She didn't even know he HAD dimples. It was alluring and - above all - arousing. "Especially," she thought, "when he's laughing." That action used to be caustic, rough, as if it was another way to express displeasure. Now it was a rumbling timbre that seemed.. warm, beckoning her to join in.

Just thinking about all these subtle differences made her anxious. It was as if Goku's transformation to Level Three had brought out some type of inner transformation for the prince. Previously Vegeta was found predictable, nigh boring. The brunet presently likened to unchartered territory - mysterious and captivating, begging for more discoveries to make the observer stand in awe.

Bulma shifted in her chair, unable to concentrate on her latest project. One thought kept running through her mind: What could that boy be doing right now?

She ultimately chose to find out. The blue-haired scientist left the lab and crossed the compound to the main building. Bulma heard her mother vacuuming in the other room as she came into the house. She peeked into the kitchen first, but there was only the cat drinking daintily from its bowl. The gravity room was empty, though it smelled heavily of detergent battling the residue of sweat. Vegeta's pristine bedroom and corresponding bathroom also yielded the same result. Frustration crept up when his presence wasn't located in her room either. "Well," she thought to herself while padding back downstairs, "I guess I will have to ask mom where he's gone."

After swinging around the corner, the femme fatale unconsciously let her jaw drop. The vacuumer was none other than the Prince of Saiyans - a man who had once claimed that household chores were too lowly of an act for a warrior of his stature. Not only was he performing this duty with a strange grace, but he seemed content to be doing something so mundane. Bulma noticed two other things in rapid succession. One was that he was wearing clothing she did not purchase for him and therefore it alluded that he willfully went shopping. The second point of interest was that a part of her brain remarked on how each component of the scene magnificently adjoined to become undoubtedly, exquisitely erotic.

The lady did the only thing that seemed sensible; she marched up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. Vegeta jumped lightly - honestly startled - and powered off the vacuum. "Yes?" he asked softly as she smoothed her hands over his pectoral muscles. She leaned forward, pressing her body fully against his. Bulma recounted a recent bit of history, "You know.. you stopped Babidi from awakening Buu." She whispered coyly, watching a blush slowly rise up his neck to stain his cheeks and ears, "Everyone knows that when you save the world you get the girl." His breath hitched as her hands decidedly wandered lower.

A few seconds later Bulma deftly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the clasp on his pants, and unzipped the fly.

A few more moments and the prince shuddered, collapsing carefully to his knees.

Clothes were divested and she relished in his submission - elated over every moan she pulled from this throat. His touches, normally commanding, were light and inquisitive. The sheer contrast between Vegeta's ordinary, demanding control and this intimately curious personality made her sensitivity level skyrocket.

For the first time since the beginning of their strangely cooperative relationship, Bulma could honestly say that they made love. Care and consideration was exercised by the brunet at every point available, making her feel like they were truly sharing one another rather than simply taking pleasure in the other's body. She swore she never orgasmed so much before in her life.

Afterwards she lay in his arms, both of them smiling lazily in satisfaction and satiation.

"Who is this? I don't recognize this person," she teased affectionately before giving him a kiss.

"Do you like the new Vegeta?" he replied playfully.

With a laugh she affirmed, "Of course I do."

That novel smile broke across his face and there was a glimmer in his eyes that she mistook for mischievousness, "Would you like for him to stay?"