This chapter is a little shorter than the ones I've typically been posting for this story. The next updates may be the same. Thanks for the positive reviews on the last chapter. I felt like it was about time that the two reunited in bed, and I wanted to make it worth their while. ;)
It didn't come with much surprise that Trunks was awake and yelling for attention within a few minutes of Bulma and Vegeta's rendezvous. The baby howled from his room as the Bluehead, flustered and light-headed, pulled herself off the Saiyan and looked around in a semi-disoriented state.
"It's about time he's awake" She hissed frantically, looking around for a shirt to pull over her head.
"Go clean yourself" Vegeta grunted back, a look of irritation on his face from his post-orgasmic joy being disrupted so suddenly.
"But –" Bulma began.
"Let me have a few minutes in the bathroom, and then I will take him." The Saiyan stood from the bed. "The boy will train with me. You need to shower."
It was true. Vegeta was still dripping with perspiration, but he wasn't nearly as dirty as Bulma had become. And it did make sense for him to wait and bathe after his training session. He was sure to get sweaty with his workout, anyway. And so, after a few minutes of tidying up, Vegeta emerged from the bathroom and set off to take Trunks with him into the Gravity Room. And, as he'd told her to, the Bluehead made to clean her body of the evidence of her morning shag.
And she did just that, enjoying the feel of the steam against her skin. She couldn't be sure just how long she spent lathering her skin with soap, her mind in a much different place. She couldn't believe all that had happened to her in that last week alone. Hell – she could hardly believe what had even happened that morning! Never before had they done it like that. She'd certainly noticed how tender he'd touched her, how reserved and careful he'd been.
"Well. That was different," She had just finished running a towel through her post-shower hair. She hung the damp cloth up to dry, grabbing for a brush to run through her short hair. Was it too much to assume that he'd been so breathless and sweaty because he'd been fighting to keep himself calm during their fun?
They'd made love a number of times, after which he would end up to be a mix of winded and euphoric. As would anyone after a good session in bed. But Bulma didn't think she'd ever seen Vegeta look so worn after a tumble. Was it connected to how different he'd handled himself during their shag? How careful he'd been? Was it that hard for him to hold himself back?
'…Or perhaps,' Bulma thought with a mischievous grin. Vegeta typically never gave her much of a chance to take charge in bed – not that she could complain! Their sex was always amazing. But perhaps, now that she finally had been the one on top, Vegeta had been pleasantly surprised at what she could do. Maybe she had just been really good with her performance, and the Saiyan simply hadn't been expecting how intense she could be… Perhaps it was all her own doing, after all…
..
A week came and went in a way that felt both recklessly quick and incredibly slow. Time seemed to be never-ending when she spent entire days at home instead of going out to work. Unlike other occasions when she opted to not go into the Capsule Corp facility, this time she wasn't even working from home. Instead she was focusing all of her attention in growing accustomed to the newly rejuvenated relationship she had with Vegeta, and the fact that she'd seemed to just move in with him overnight. One morning she'd left her parent's home to welcome the group of men that were arriving to deliver and help her set up things in Vegeta's house, and she just hadn't returned.
Of course, she'd seen her parents since then. She'd gone back to speak with her mother every day. She'd gone by to pack up her clothes and other personal items to take to Vegeta's. To share with her father what had happened with Tadashi. But she hadn't returned to her parent's house with the intention of staying, of sleeping there. She returned as a visitor.
She loved living with Vegeta. The thought of it was enough to even give her stomach butterflies at times, a grin spreading across her cheeks without even realizing it. There were just so many aspects of moving in with him that she enjoyed, appreciated, and relished in. A great sense of independence that came with suddenly being a head of the household, especially as a mother, was one of them. She hadn't particularly disliked living with her parents, but she realized that she preferred to approach things around the house in a much different manner than her mother. And now she had the authority to do it. This was just as much her home as it was Vegeta's.
And she was still nesting in her new home, falling into a new routine, enjoying Vegeta's presence (which seemed a lot more relaxed when he was in his own "palace".) The Saiyan prince would take Trunks to train for a few hours each morning, until the toddler grew tired from the session and would lay down for a nap. The saiyan would then leave to train alone in the mountains until the early evening, returning in time to eat dinner with Bulma.
During their meals he would remain relatively quiet, as the Bluehead had come to expect from him. Despite how quiet they could be, they still engaged in their own version of table talk.
"So," Bulma said one night as she scooped some noodles from her plate. "How was your day?"
With a grunt Vegeta swallowed a mouthful of food. "The mortals on this planet are too sensitive."
The Bluehead raised her eyebrows as this, and turned to shoot an exaggerated wink at Trunks. The boy was sitting in his highchair and slapping his hands into his plate of food gleefully.
"A group of peasants found me today on my mountain. I demanded to know why they were spying on me, and they claimed that they were participating in some Earth hobby known as hiking." The Saiyan griped, rolling his eyes. "They were disrupting my training right when it was starting to get really good. Of course I was pissed, so I told them that it would be in their best interest to leave at once! They were smart enough to do my bidding, but the screaming was a nuisance. What kind of cowardly man screams like a baby, anyway? It ruined my mood!"
Bulma looked back down at her plate as the Saiyan spoke. Nothing that he did seemed to surprise her. "Well," she replied. "They probably weren't expecting you to threaten them."
"All I did was destroy a tree to show my superiority!" Vegeta continued, smirking now. "The fact that Earthlings find a simple tree-smash terrifying is absolutely pathetic. You know that, right? On my planet, if destroying a tree was the only thing you were capable of, it deemed you a joke. But on this planet it's considered frightening! How sad!"
Trunks cooed at this, clapping his messy hands together with joy. Bulma looked up at the boy and smiled. "Oh, you finished your food already? Would you like more, Trunksie?"
"Yah!" Trunks crowed, clapping his hands together more enthusiastically now. The Bluehead stood and grabbed her son's plate to fetch him another serving.
This digression wasn't enough to steer Vegeta away from his topic of choice. "Even you." The saiyan put down his chopsticks and pointed a stern finger at Trunks. "You, boy, are already strong enough to rule this planet if you wanted to."
Trunks stopped waving his little hands in the air to look up at his father in an amused surprise.
"The difference between you and I is that your mother is too soft on you, boy." Vegeta continued. "When I was your age my mother would spar with me herself. And if I lost the match she'd be sure to punish me for it. By the time I was even walking I was tough enough to take on an army. You'd be able to do it, too, if your mother wasn't so soft on you."
Bulma had returned to the table now, setting Trunks' plate down in front of him. The boy squealed with joy and began to throw fistfuls of noodles into his mouth. He didn't seem to be considering his Daddy's point too seriously.
"There's nothing wrong with the way I handle our son." The Bluehead chimed in, a defensive curl underlying her words. "And there's nothing wrong with our son!"
Vegeta gulped down another mouthful of noodles. He stopped to take a chug from his glass of water. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with you or the boy! I said he was strong enough to do a lot of damage if he wanted to." He replied, a matter-of-fact tone. "See, this is what I've been saying. You Earthlings really are too sensitive."
Bulma rolled her eyes, and the rest of the meal continued in silence. She watched, fighting back a smile, as the two males in her life finished their food with determination. It was a non-traditional dynamic that she didn't find any desire to change. Vegeta spoke just as high and big as he always did, but she wasn't worried about it. There was something about his body language that told her he wouldn't actually follow through with any of his boastful threats unless he felt a need. Even if he had intimidated the hell out of a hiking party, she knew he wouldn't have actually hurt them.
She and Vegeta flirted with each other during the day, and at night they would have a round (or two) of shagging before going to bed. Each morning she woke with messy hair and the need for a shower, and she found that she was more than okay with it.
One night Bulma was standing in front of the mirror before bed, running a brush through her hair. She was studying her reflection, noting how nicely her face had healed over the last several days. It had been quite the week, quite the change of pace, but she knew that she missed the intellectual challenge that came with her job. Despite how much she'd truly enjoyed her week off, she knew that she was ready for her days to consist of more. "I think I might be ready to go back to work tomorrow." She commented, putting her brush down on the top of her dresser.
A grunt came from the bed. Vegeta had already kicked off his clothes for the night. Wearing only a pair of boxers, he was reclined against the headboard with his hands behind his head. He's been watching her from his place, looking over her curves as she'd groomed herself. He grunted again, not sounding very pleased.
Bulma turned from the dresser to meet his gaze. "Is that all you have to say?"
She was wearing a silk robe that was tied tightly around her waist. It opened in the front just enough to reveal an impressive amount of cleavage, and the color was just pale enough that Vegeta could make out her nipples as she faced him. The style was pretty similar to another robe that he'd torn to shreds from her frame when he'd been lost in a state of lust. The Saiyan pushed himself up from his position to give her a stern look. "That beta male will be there."
Bulma shook her head. "He's gone, remember? Dad let him go. It was inappropriate for him to come to our home so many times, and he ran out of second chances."
"Just because he was relieved of his duties doesn't mean he won't show up again." Vegeta sneered. His eyes were fixed on her chest, the small nubs of her nipples poking through the fabric. It was warm in the house, but it appeared that she was perhaps getting cold…
"I doubt it. He's just some goofy kid, it's not like he has bad intentions. And besides, we have security. Even if he tried something – which he won't – he wouldn't accomplish very much." Bulma was rolling her eyes now, trying to seem stern, but found it hard to keep a smile from her lips. She couldn't deny that Vegeta acting so protective wasn't flattering.
"Whatever. You won't listen to me, anyway." The Saiyan frowned. "He'll be back, and when that happens I'll destroy him. Now come here."
Bulma put a hand on her hip. "You won't destroy anyone, understand?"
"Come here."
The Bluehead was grinning now, stepping forward slowly. "Promise me you'll let it go. He's just a kid and he's already had to learn the consequences of his actions."
"I'll promise to forget about him for now." Vegeta's eyes had grown darker than normal, and the look on his face was firm. "Come here…"
When Bulma was less than a meter away from the bed the Saiyan stood and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her into him, his mouth closing in on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back as his teeth dug into her skin, the robe slowly pulling from her body. Her fingernails began to dig into his back and she sighed.
She knew that they were done talking for the night.
..
She wasn't used to waking quite so early anymore, but Bulma pulled herself from bed the next morning with a focus. She was going to take a shower – no longer than 20 minutes – eat a rushed breakfast, get dressed, and leave with enough time to beat rush hour traffic. She was going to show up back to work with her head held high, and she was going to get a lot done that day.
Trunks and Vegeta were still asleep as she made breakfast. She was scrambling some quick eggs over the stove when she reached out to click on the TV. She'd been impressed when she'd discovered that Vegeta had made sure to have a drop-down TV installed underneath one of the overhead counters. The Saiyan didn't seem to care too much for television, but Bulma had certainly put it to good use. She'd made the habit of watching it every morning as she cooked, and today was not going to be any exception.
Typically she'd listen to the weather forecast to see if it was going to rain that day. It wouldn't do to have her hanging laundry get ruined due to bad weather. Today she was opting to listen to the morning news, instead, to get an idea of what to expect for traffic. She was feeling rather blissful as she flipped through the channels, landing on the local station in time for her to flip her eggs in the sizzling pan.
When the commercials ended and the station went back to the news, though, the Bluehead's heart seemed to stop.
The anchors on the TV weren't discussing traffic. They weren't even discussing the typical "heart-warming" story that morning news seemed to enjoy covering.
She turned off the stove and licked her lips dryly, the words coming from the TV registering in her mind. She wasn't sure if it was shock or anxiety that was building in the pit of her stomach as she listened to the story that was being told. Feeling somewhat light-headed, she left her face fall into the palms of her hands.
Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten. Realizing that what she was listening to was real, and that she somehow hadn't made it all up, she let out another sigh. "I guess I won't be going into work, after all" She muttered softly.
The news anchors on the TV were talking about her.
