From last chapter: Bulma and Vegeta got it on hot and heavy, further carrying out their agreement to act on their carnal desires, including role play. Yet Bulma is still debating about sharing her special kink just yet, though Vegeta almost caught her indulging.
Bert and Millie stood in awe as Vegeta consumed about ninety percent of their breakfast food stockpile set aside for two weeks: eggs, bacon, bread, fruit, and even oatmeal. When he not so gently stared at Bulma as if she had deprived them of adequate wares, the older gentleman stepped in.
"Young fella, you can best be sure that Bulma -"
"Dr. Brief, you mean?" Vegeta asked, dabbing his mouth with a long blue napkin.
Bulma elbowed him, scowling. "Vegeta, we're all on a first-name basis here. You sure as hell don't use my title, and you live in my home."
Vegeta now had an audience. There was no way he could let this unnecessary disclosure pass. "Correction, Dr. Brief. You and I live in your parents' residence. You didn't procure it on your own."
He couldn't resist rebelliously strolling along the line of perpetual irritation both had drawn between them. Having mind-blowing sex like wildcats wouldn't change that anytime soon. Besides, he thought, for Bulma to take offense about two people who appeared to be, in essence, her personal servants seemed hypocritical. Paying handsomely for their work wasn't a bad thing, but why shouldn't this couple use the title she earned after finishing her education?
Of course, he was a prince - about as haughty as one could be - so he was more than biased about the subject. There would be no question about expectations if his childhood home still existed, but it didn't. He declared his royalty to remind himself of his self-worth. This attachment was a double-edged sword because it psychologically bound him to how much he lost, corroding his spirit, as much as Frieza's expectations of fealty without the benefit of full respect.
The couple barely hid their surprise delivering wide-eyed stares at their guests. Millie pinched Bert's arm, smiling. He frowned, pushing her hand away.
"How dare you embarrass me like this?" Bulma's skin burned beet-red from Vegeta's taunting. "You arrogant jack -"
"As my husband was saying," Millie interupted, "Dr. Brief helps us stay well stocked for customers, young fella. You know he's just giving all of us a hard time because he likes it here, Bulma. Just call us beforehand and we'll be prepared with enough food if you want to stop by. Any friend of the Briefs is one of ours."
Despite his deadly serious expression, Vegeta obviously enjoyed pushing Bulma's buttons, Millie thought, though he seemed much rougher around the edges than Yamcha. Her husband used to be like that in some ways, until Millie broke him like a boiled chicken bone before they married - a great memory. Maybe Bulma would do the same with this peculiar newcomer.
"I'm sorry about Vegeta's big mouth, you two," Bulma replied. "Sometimes his jokes fall flat. It's clear that he enjoyed your excellent culinary skills and hospitality."
Before Vegeta respond, Bulma kicked him underneath the table to stay quiet. His eyes tightened, expressing offense over anyone speaking on his behalf. Those same eyes unlocked like a burglarized door as a soft touch brushed over his dick. His steely jaw took a slow roll left. Bulma had declared war on his mouthiness by kneading his testicles between her nimble, sexually gifted fingers. How in the hell could he hide his hard dick before leaving this place? His thoughts swayed between embarrassment and a barely restrained thirst to tear her clothes off again. His half-cough revealed to Bulma that she had him right where she wanted. His Adam's apple bobbed as the cough grew louder.
"Would you like some more water?" Bert asked, appearing concerned.
"No," Vegeta said, grasping Bulma's happy fingers like pair of pliers. "As she said, I…am...am satisfied, and I won't forget about your offer to return."
"Millie, we're going into the back room to chat and play a few games," Bulma said, smiling. "Vegeta and I are working on a project together, and yesterday was rough. If anyone comes looking for me, I don't want to be disturbed - under no uncertain terms.
"Yes, ma'am," Millie said, grabbing her suspicious husband's arm to leave. "No calls. No intrusions."
Bulma smiled at Vegeta, whispering, "You liked that, didn't you?"
"No."
"Liar."
"That is not a lie. You would have humiliated yourself and me if -"
"If what, Vegeta? If you had a silent orgasm after a healthy breakfast? I'd say that's great way to start a busy day."
Bulma almost laughed in his face at her own audacity. "Silent orgasm" had to be the most bullshit oxymoron ever to leave her mouth.
"How about this, vulgar woman? I will not let you trap me in whatever torture dungeon you've created back there. This quaint food cabin is obviously a front for your degenerate activities. I am already well behind my training schedule anyway."
"Vulgar my ass." Bulma pushed away from the table, pressing her finger on the tip of his dick. The cloth covering it had an enticing wet spot. "You didn't seem to have a problem with it last night."
"Hn. You certainly didn't either, and while I enjoyed the run-up to our rendezvous, you were also particularly giddy - and how did you release yourself from that suspension bar?"
"So many questions - also, you knew I wasn't drunk, so it's silly for you to imply it."
Bulma's eyelid twitched ever so slightly, drawing closer attention from him. Normally Vegeta wouldn't squint to give away his thoughts, but this wasn't exactly for his benefit. Perhaps she needed a confession. "Why not help her?" the devil inside of him said.
Bulma unconsciously touched her neck, confirming his suspicion. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You… realize that I spent the first third of my life learning how to interpret body language."
"Of potential enemies, Vegeta, so you wouldn't be killed and chopped up like a steak," Bulma groaned, leaving her chair. "I'm not your enemy. I never really was."
Vegeta folded up his soiled napkin, placing it neatly on the table. "You have a highly selective memory and are stretching the boundaries of my skepticism. I wasn't exactly friendly when I arrived here."
"That's right," Bulma replied. "You made yourself the enemy to everyone around you."
"No matter." Vegeta's eyes glazed darkly, emitting a palpable chill. "So you're suddenly judging me from a standard that never will apply to someone like me - not with the life I have lived - or my history. I can assure you that your beloved Kakarot would've been different had he been raised on my planet."
"Maybe." Bulma refused to back down entirely, though she wasn't in the mood for a row. "Maybe not. Goku was sent here to crush Earth all life here anyway, according to you, so I'm not sure how much 'raising' would've happened. Regardless, we aren't psychics. In any case, you should return to training. I need a few more days to tinker with the new chamber, as you know. Then it's all yours. I'll remove the old one from our property soon. See you later."
"You never answered my questions," Vegeta said. "Next time, try harder to make me forget."
"I'm only human, remember? See you later." Turning her back on him, Bulma entered short hallway leading to her eccentric playroom. Her hand dragged across a button, releasing a sound blocker to mask noise both inside and outside of the space.
As soon as the first curtain descended over the entryway, Vegeta had her body pressed against the door, inhaling the perfume on her upper chest. She exhaled as his soft tongue traced along the base of her neck. Blood pulsing through the artery on the side made him hungrier. He wanted her naked and free. They backed into the room, slamming the door as they dragged each other's clothing off. Vegeta pushed up Bulma's skirt, holding the back of her neck as his hand penetrated her. She mewled as his fingers pressed up, causing the smooth muscles around her clitoris to tighten. Her hands dug into his tanned, flexing biceps.
"Did you actually think I'd let you get away with that little stunt of yours out there?" he hissed. "Oh no, no, no, Dr. Brief. You don't deserve that privilege."
Bulma's lower back curved into the cradle of his palm, submitting to his will. She pulled his disorderly madman's hair in all directions as they kissed. A hypnotic haze crossed over their eyes. Vegeta's arm accidentally landed on an old remote on the bar, activating an antique stereo that - of all things - played classical music. His eyes shifted to Bulma's. She usually preferred so-called "rock" music that he hated.
She shrugged, giggling at his curiosity. "What can I say, man? I'm full of surprises."
"Stop distracting me," he growled, trying not to succumb to her laughter. "Do want to continue this or not?"
At that moment Chopin's Waltz No. 7 in C Sharp Minor flowed from the speakers. Bulma's lips returned to his, kissing with the feathery lightness that followed along with the piano ballad's opening. As the melody took on a faster pace, Vegeta spun her around, raising her legs between both arms. Her back rested on the padded cloth wall as his eager and extremely hard dick edged its way inside.
Bulma's eyes swung backward as she and Vegeta both gasped. Her mind was a jumble of eighth and quarter notes as he rode her, rocking their sweaty bodies up… and up… and up….
"I have…to go now."
"You should. It's OK. The morning is almost gone."
"I know it is OK, Bulma. I have free will."
"So…what you're saying is you don't want to leave, Vegeta?"
He kissed her, nuzzling his head on her neck. Everything about her was the like honey - lips, eyes, breasts, backside, and, most of all, her gifted mind. His thoughts also intrusively reminded about sugar's addictiveness, leading to weight gain. What kind of weight would this become for him - and for her? It would be beneath him to blame her for walking headfirst into this. After all, Bulma said they could end their affair at any time if the lines blurred too much - and it had only just begun. His finger lightly tapped the tiny dimple on Bulma's chin as they stared into each other's eyes.
"How many times do I have to tell you -"
"Not put words in your mouth?" Bulma interrupted, kissing his knuckle. "Yes, I know what my sin is."
Vegeta picked up his runner's jacket, checking both inside pockets. "And yet you continue to do it, but I suppose there are worse transgressions."
"Looking for something? Did you lose your access key to the chamber?"
He threw the jacket over his shoulder. "I won't be at dinner - and tomorrow will be the first day of you not wearing the chest harness, by my command."
"Um, you might want to leave from the back," Bulma replied. "You body looks like it needs ironing. Oh, and remember, you can't touch me if I don't wear my bra."
"I'll leave the same way I came in, woman, and there's nothing wrong with building resistance to temptation."
She hung back, watching him leave. He looked so cocksure, strutting out with his head high, but those eyes of his. Their stoniness could be impenetrable at times, yet they could also show vulnerability that Vegeta believed no one else would notice or fully care about. Others had seen him at his most broken - in tears and gasping for life, with blood gushing from his chest - and they cared, but none of that changed this view of himself. Not even with Bulma. Not completely.
In this moment, Bulma almost felt regret because Vegeta's mien briefly revealed more than loneliness. He wasn't the only one who could read body language.
He yearned for a connection, and she had pried that door open and, possibly with more effort, could break off the hinges. She trusted that she could, in fact, walk away when ready. Even if their "no strings" affair continued for a long time, Vegeta would still follow her lead if she wanted, respecting her wishes to end physical and closer emotional contact, but where would that leave him?
I'm not giving him or myself enough credit, she thought. We're adults. We don't owe each other anything except for enough honesty to know when to say stop.
A craving for orange juice led her to the back of the bar to find some, but something else attracted her attention - her little a jeweled box, accompanied by a note: This substance inside of this box, whatever it is, was none of my business when we weren't involved, but it is my business now that we are. - Vegeta. Shit No, not yet.
He wasn't.
Panchy tossed a fluorescent yellow tennis ball over her head, reaching up for a perfect serve that a squatting Bulma returned with competitive ferocity. Bulma hadn't played in decades, having mastered it by age six. Flying planes interested her more back then anyway. But here she was, making an impressive show of it. Panchy loved every minute, even when her daughter almost won, but Bulma lost. A little robot zoomed in front, opening it refrigerated cooler with water and lemonade.
"Dear, it's been almost two months, and you're staying in the city overnight a lot lately. That's fine, I suppose, but is everything OK?"
"Maybe I'm spending more there because the bulk of my work happens at the West City complex, mom," Bulma said with the blandness of a wet dishrag. "You act like dad isn't there a lot either."
"Yes, and he comes home - most of the time - when he's not at your penthouse. I hope your father-daughter time has been rewarding."
Bulma dragged a face towel across her forehead, taking Panchy's hand. "Are you feeling lonely? I can kick dad out more if that will help."
"No, dear. he's fine right where he is for now. I have my horses and endless card games with my friends. We buy good alcohol, although I can't drink like I used to."
"You definitely keep everyone on their toes," Bulma replied, laughing loudly. "That's for sure."
"Actually, I have something to discuss with you privately. Let's go in sauna."
"Honey, I need to get back to work - and there's no one around. Why can't we talk out here?"
"Oh, come on!" Panchy exclaimed. "You love the sauna. I won't make it too hot."
Fifteen minutes later, the women were wrapped in towels, relaxing against on musky cedar walls. Bulma's feet propped up on a plank as Panchy's eyes closed.
"So what is it, mom?"
"Vegeta."
Bulma kept her voice steady. No high pitches or deep plateaus. "What about him?"
"I never see him."
"Well it's not like he's the life of the party around here."
"I'm serious, Bulma! He only goes between training and eating privately, period. He does use our audio book library more often, but his kitchen visits are solely for capsulized meals, not my freshly made ones. I leave portions for him to see how much he'll eat. I wonder if he misses you having you around to irritate. You all were talking more often for a while."
"He's fine, mom. The new training chamber is like a children's amusement park for him. I check on the machinery from a distance. If he needs anything from me, he has access to my lab in the city."
"Has he been there lately, Bulma?"
"Mom! Leave Vegeta alone. It sounds like you miss him being around more than I do."
Panchy eyeballed her daughter for any signs of nervousness. Bulma's responses and deflections were too calm - restrained, even.
"You slept with him, didn't you?"
"I can't believe this!" Bulma shook her head, grumbling. "Actually, yes! Yes, I can believe you would ask! Hand me my damned slippers. I have to get back to work."
"What are you afraid of, Bulma? It's perfectly fine."
"I never asked for your permission about anything related to my sex life," Bulma shot back angrily, "so just back off, mom."
"Because after I explained how special sex was when you were a young girl, I gave you space to make your own decisions, even when they weren't always the best."
Bulma removed a towel on her head. "You will not bait me into asking whether Vegeta is one of my better decisions. I'm aware that everyone else in my life would be mortified if they knew."
"Does Launch know?"
"We're not on speaking terms, and why in the hell are you asking about her anyway? She crossed a line that shouldn't have happened. I don't intend to discuss it with you or anyone else." Bulma bristled thinking about their last argument. She needed to apologize for punching Launch, but beyond that, their friendship was on hold indefinitely.
Panchy unhurriedly followed her into the dressing room. "It's interesting. Jealousy can show up when you least expect it, even from the most unlikely sources."
"Gotta go now." Bulma kissed her on both cheeks. "Enjoyed the tennis game, Panchy. Let's do this again soon - on the condition that you'll ask fewer questions."
"Bye, dear. I can't make a promise like that either. Just be careful."
Bulma's stomach tossed thinking about how much free time her mother may have spent cataloging years of suitors, potential or actual - male and female. Did Panchy wonder if Launch may have "a thing" for her? Gods help her if her mother figured that out. That stopped Bulma's roiling thoughts. It may not have been malicious, but her friend played with her mind unnecessarily when she was vulnerable. That's all that mattered.
She ran to the helicopter pad, removing a capsule from her pocket. The jog around the aircraft came next for a quick inspection. A man's blurry reflection wobbled over the metal behind her. Her shoulders tensed, but she continued checking the copter's condition.
"What are you doing here?" she asked tersely. "How did you get in?"
"Don't blame Panchy," Yamcha said. "She doesn't know. You act like people aren't familiar with me around here. We were together for a while. Also, you never gave staff an edict to keep me out."
"I never banned you from visiting Capsule's main campus here. It's a business after all, but you should have enough respect not to come around my home for a while, especially uninvited. With all of the stressful situations we've been in over the years, how do I know you haven't gone off the deep end?"
"You know I would never hurt you, B."
"Come again?" Bulma asked incredulously. "You broke my heart, and now it appears you're breaking your own. I can't help you with that. I won't help you."
"And you think that pint-sized freak with the wasp's nest up his ass can?!" Yamcha yelled. "How can you prostitute yourself out like this to someone like him?!"
"Prostitute myself?!" Before she could stop herself, Bulma slapped Yamcha, hollering at the top of her lungs. "You calling me a whore on my property? Get the fuck out of here and never come back! I thought we ended our relationship amicably, but I see now that you only care about ownership over me."
"You know I could have caught your arm before impact," Yamcha replied, rubbing his face. "Maybe I deserved it in some way. I think you get what I mean here. I'm not calling you a whore."
"That's sure what it sounds like to me, asshole!"
"B., you're using Vegeta to boost your ego as much as he's ruthlessly using you to achieve his goals. He's said as much. Do you really think that's a good thing?"
"First, keep in mind that we're all still alive, and not once has Vegeta tried to harm anyone maliciously since he came to live with me."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Yamcha's mouth dropped open. "I don't even know what to say to that."
"How about nothing?!" Bulma snarled. "You have a minute before guards throw you out of here."
"He came after me at the Sugar Shack on the same day we ended our relationship, Bulma."
"And you were with a girl, weren't you?"
"Why does it matter?!" Yamcha barked. "This is what he does when he doesn't get his way. He did it on a grand scale with all of us, remember?"
"All of this is none of your business." Bulma flung the copter's door open, strapping herself in. "I think you should reclaim your dignity."
"Maybe you should follow your own advice, babe."
Yamcha held up a video recording of his altercation with Vegeta. Bulma watched as he taunted Yamcha and, in her mind, spoke as if he owned her too. But Vegeta also told hard truths about their interactions - ones they had discussed themselves - and complimented her. Still, he had no right to torment her ex-boyfriend just because he could. Yamcha had never physically harmed or attempted to break her spirit when they were together.
"I've heard enough," she said tiredly. "Don't come back."
Yamcha watched her depart, shoving his hands into his pockets as he rose up to fly. "You could have interrupted, Vegeta," he said quietly, "since you spiked your ki to warn me of your almighty presence."
"You heard her," Vegeta replied, emerging from the shadows. "Leave. You and I have both died at least once. I would say we're even - for now."
"Don't worry either," Yamcha said as he flew off. "Your erotic secret is safe with me, your highness. She doesn't need any more lectures from anyone else, I guess. "
At first Vegeta wondered if the man was suicidal, lobbing those worthless taunts at him. After a shrug, his jawline relaxed, revealing the thinnest of smiles.
"What… a pity, squandering his energy like this."
Now he had to find Bulma, especially since the copter had not taken off in the direction of downtown West City - something Yamcha didn't notice, apparently. She was upset, and after not seeing each other for weeks on purpose, he couldn't afford an unnecessary quarrel about something so trivial.
Then his smartwatch vibrated with a text message: Don't even think about trying to find me, jackass. I know you were there and heard every word. - B.Vegeta sighed, tossing his towel around his neck. "Damn it."
A/N - Thanks if you're still reading. Hope you liked the chapter. Hit me up with questions or comments if there's anything you're particularly interested in. I'll try to give you a straight answer. ?