'Tender Loving Blackmail'
Disclaimer: Disclaimers make me itchy. So do lawsuits…I don't own, so please don't sue!
"Everything alright over there?"
Vegeta spared a moment to shoot Bulma a dirty look over his broad shoulder before turning away, leaning to one side as he reached around his back. His thick, blunt fingers scrabbled over his spine, as though trying to drag themselves to his shoulder blade. Grunting, he changed his approach, sticking out his elbow at an odd angle and straining.
Bulma sat up and the sheet fell away, exposing her nude form to the cool night air. "Got an itchy spot?"
The prince snorted. "I see why they call you a genius."
"Tch, jerk," Bulma grumbled, scooting over to sit behind Vegeta and watching as he rubbed and pressed fruitlessly. She covered his fingers with hers, stilling them.
He glanced at her again, a question in his eyes—until he noticed her bare breasts, at which point he promptly forgot what he'd been about to say.
Bulma's knowing smirk reminded him fast enough. "I didn't give you permission to—"
"Vegeta, I literally had 'your highness' in my mouth last night," Bulma deadpanned. His jaw dropped.
She let her nails scrape over the reddened patch he'd made, noting idly that her manicure was chipping already after a long week in the workshop. "Here?"
Vegeta harrumphed and turned his head, keeping Bulma's chest in his peripheral vision in that way that all men think subtle and all women find hilariously, frustratingly, endearingly obvious. "Hn. Higher."
Leaning on her opposite arm, Bulma let her hand move one way as her gaze went another, studying her lover's back. His flesh was decorated with faded scars and blotchy, discolored marks that signified an old burn. She had a few of those herself from the soldering iron (and a few more from the curling iron).
As she took this rare opportunity to examine his tail-stump up close, one spot in particular caught her attention. "Hey, what's this?"
Vegeta shifted, attempting to spur her hand back into motion. "What is what?"
"You've got a big ol' mole! Right here on your left cheek," Bulma giggled, poking the small but still noticeable brown bump on the toned curve of his ass. Vegeta growled and swatted her hand away, but didn't move to get up or leave.
"A scab, nothing more."
"Oh-ho no, that's a cute little beauty spot you got, buddy," Bulma teased mercilessly. "Ha! Just wait 'til I tell Goku!"
"…you wouldn't dare."
"Well, maybe the next time I ask you to take the trash out you'll actually do it instead of ignoring me, huh?"
His glare was deadly. "Why should I have to perform such menial chores? You have those automated scrap-heaps for such things!"
"Aw, but Vegeta," Bulma cooed, "it's so sweet when you do it!"
"Enough, woman. Continue your task. Unless you're going to half-ass the job like you do everything else?"
"What? All of my inventions are the pinnacle of perfection, just like their creator!"
They squabbled long into the night and beyond, throughout the rest of their lives—which were spent together.
AN: What? Even Super Saiyans get itchy spots they can't reach themselves.
Although actually the inspiration for this came from a single line that I woke up with in my head one morning, which was "I'm gonna blackmail the shit out of you." It didn't make it in here, but still.
Oh, this isn't the last chapter, by the way. That last line sounded kinda final, but...I'll keep adding tidbits as I feel like it. Just keep in mind these aren't in any kind of chronological order, haha!
I found writing and thinking about this one very relaxing for some reason. Sigh. I even listened to Gerry Rafferty's "Right Down the Line" while drafting it. Just...mellow. Maybe the next one will be some raunchy smut to make up for all this talk of growing old and spending lifetimes together. Y'know, change things up a bit XD
Later!