30

BULMA rolled her eyes to herself and groaned in dramatic exasperation as she shuffled down an unfamiliar sidewalk as Android 18 confidently led the way into the downtown parts of a city somewhere on Yardrat.

The two suns had set, and all the normal aliens on this planet were either in their homes or doing something better than this, and yet, here she was, trailing behind the others like they were lost. Which, she wondered if they were lost.

It felt like they'd been going around in circles.

Bulma whined, stomping her foot in frustration, and sticking out her bottom lip in a slight pout.

"How much farther? Fuck! We've been walking for like, the last hour! My feet are killing me, and I'm starving, 18, are we gonna stop soon? I—I'm tired," Bulma called out, raising her voice, and having to jog to catch up to Android 18's lengthy, leggy strides to where she led the group.

Tarble still hadn't caught up with Vegeta, though she thought by now he would have found him.

But she suspected they weren't far behind. Vegeta had said her name with such shock and surprise, and in truth, Bulma had been too stunned to answer right away. Bulma panted to catch her breath, clutching at a stitch in her side as she struggled to match her strides to meet 18's.

18 narrowed her gaze and shot her a withering look. "Almost there. Some guy earlier told me about a place that's supposed to have really good food. 'Madame Destiny's or something it's called," she grumbled to herself, sounding bored but not as grouchy as she'd been earlier when they'd crash-landed.

Which, Bulma guessed was as close as Android 18 could probably come to being happy. Bulma chuckled as she noticed Krillin's eyes narrow as he grumbled something inaudibly under his breath about how the alien she'd approached for directions was a total creep, and how his face flushed in anger at the thought of the blonde bombshell talking to another guy, alien from another planet notwithstanding. Bulma snorted and found it difficult not to roll her eyes a little bit.

Her friend hadn't been able to take his eyes off her for pretty much the whole walk.

Krillin was macking on her bodyguard hard and Bulma wondered if the man would ever summon up the courage to make a move. She doubted it, but then again, more than once, Krillin had surprised her on occasion.

They paused outside of the building. Bulma crinkled her nose in disgust at the flashing bright neon green and purple lights of this club, Madame Destiny's. She snorted, wondering if this was anything like the strip clubs and establishments back on Earth, and what they'd be in store for inside.

"What is this place?" Bulma murmured, pausing outside.

18 turned and shot her a look. She didn't look necessarily angry, but nor was the android pleased with her question.

"A place to eat, Briefs. I asked around. This place's name kept coming up, I guess it's a hotel on the top floor or something too where you can rent out a room, but if you don't want to then you can go somewhere else, but I'm starving so I'm eating here, Bulma, and I think the others would agree with me that we need to take a break before we keep looking for your husband, and the sooner we find him, the quicker we can get the fuck out of here," Android 18 snapped in a clipped and curt tone, huffing, folding her arms across her chest and walking inside without another word.

Krillin shot her an apologetic look and hesitated, torn between his desire to go inside with the others and stand out here with Bulma, wanting to look after his friend in Bulma's vulnerable state.

Bulma groaned to herself dramatically as she saw no other choice but to follow 18 inside with Krillin and Gure while they waited for Prince Vegeta and Prince Tarble to return.

This club looked like the kind of place she would have avoided like the plague were they back on Earth, but they weren't on Earth, Bulma had to remind herself, so she was left with no other choice but to follow 18's lead. Everyone else was looking put off and hungry, and she was too if she was being honest with herself.

She only hoped this place actually served food that she'd be able to eat.

"C'mon, Krillin," Bulma mumbled, clapping Krillin on the shoulder and steering him towards the door. "Let's go inside, I don't want 18 to blow up the place if someone pisses her off or so much as looks at her the wrong way," she sighed, glancing carefully out of the corner of her eyes at the shorter man, chuckling at how his face had reddened.

She patted her little charcoal grey knapsack, feeling grateful that she still had a few Zeni left in her wallet. Bulma only hoped this planet's people were willing to take Earth's money. She didn't really know how alien currency worked, but she guessed she'd find out, though if Vegeta was here, and the Yardratians really were afraid of the Saiyan race as she said, then maybe—just maybe—and a part of her hated herself for thinking this—she could talk to the club owner about cutting some kind of deal or a line of credit if it turned out they didn't accept Bulma's Zeni.

Bulma and Krillin and Gure stepped inside the dimly lit club, pushing open the door, silently thanking Kami as warmth and the scent of food enveloped the tired group.

Inside, it was crowded, filled with mostly male aliens shaking off the drizzle from the slight rain that had started to pour outside, wiping the mud and dirt from their boots, exchanging raucous laughter and Bulma's eyes widened as scantily clad women—of all alien races—sauntered by carrying fully loaded plates of delicious-looking food.

This was…an entertainment club for sure, she thought, as she saw the stage and her cheeks burned with hot shame.

The walls were colorfully painted, with various artwork hung up all over the walls. A reception desk was off to the left, she guessed it looked like the check-in station for one of the rooms you could rent upstairs.

Bulma grimaced as the chatter and even the noise of clinking plates stopped, and everyone turned to look at the odd group of foreign visitors to the planet Yardrat that had just entered into the front of the waiting area.

Eyes were trained on Bulma as she let the door slam shut behind her. The silence hung in the air like a poisonous gas cloud. Bulma swallowed. She could only guess what they were contemplating. She guessed she wouldn't put it past Lord Frieza and his goons to have sent an image of her picture around.

Oh, look there's the wife of the Prince of All Saiyans who has a bounty on her head…

Bulma awkwardly brought her hand to her mouth to cough quietly, peeking around at all the alien species' faces gawking at them.

Some looked incredulous as if they'd never seen a human woman before, and for all Bulma knew, they hadn't. Others were impassive, barely sending her party a second glance, which Bulma felt relieved by, really.

There were two or three, however, that was looking mildly alarmed or Bulma would even go so far as to say downright pissed off.

Bulma swallowed, forcing a smile on her face and a nervous chuckle escaped her lips. "What's the matter, guys? Never seen a drop-dead gorgeous earth woman before?" she teased, sliding the strap of her knapsack off her shoulder to dig for her wallet, silently praying to Kami this place took Earth Zeni's.

A cute hostess with bright pink skin and long straight lavender hair and sparkling green eyes greeted them from behind a hostess stand, grabbing a couple of menus.

"You're most welcome here," she said to Bulma in a chipper, happy voice. "Yardrat's a peaceful planet, we really like tourists. Especially if they can pay," she joked. "It might be a little crowded," she said, looking towards Krillin. "But you're so short, sir, I'm sure we can find a room even for you, cutie!"

Krillin's face flushed bright red in anger and embarrassment as Android 18 smirked.

Android 18 was leaning heavily against the hostess stand, somehow managing to look sexy and intimidating all in one hot package.

The hostess did a quick headcount of their party. "Seating for four?" she asked kindly in a warm voice, looking at Bulma.

"Seven, Woman," barked a familiar, hoarse deep voice that caused Bulma's neck hairs to stand on end. Bulma, who had been about to follow their hostess to the back room of the club, froze, her entire body turning to ice.

She knew that voice. But…could it really be her husband? Bulma turned around slowly, her feet feeling like lead in her old hiking boots, her blue eyes widening in shock and surprise as she took in the sight of a very startled-looking Prince Vegeta and a flustered Tarble and trailing behind Vegeta's brother was Goku.

Bulma parted her lips to speak as Vegeta's narrowed black eyes took in the sight of his mate, his eyes settling on her flat stomach. She hesitated, paralyzed in her fear.

Do you know? She asked in their shared mental telepathy, desperately searching his eyes for any hint of him concealing the truth.

She swallowed hard as her face registered what could only be described as an outrage on her husband's face after the initial shock at Vegeta's sudden appearance wore off. Bulma had doubted Vegeta would come.

Yet here her husband was, standing in front of her with wide, surprised eyes, bits of what looked like rubble stuck in his wild tuft of black hair that seemed to have a mind of its own in its current disheveled, windswept state. He had a gash or two across his cheekbone, dried blood caked on his face.

Bulma could only imagine what it must feel like to have Goku hit you with either his fist or in this case, one of his favorite moves: the Kamehameha Wave. The blood that would undoubtedly have seeped from the gash where it looked like he'd struck his head.

She cringed inwardly but forced herself to remain impassive while his darkened eyes lingered on her flat abdomen almost coldly.

"Yes," he answered gruffly in an almost soft, incredulous sounding voice as his eyes traveled over her form and Bulma blushed, realizing she probably looked a sorry sight after the horrific way Frieza's escape pod crash-landed, with a smudge of dirt on her cheeks, her short blue hair windswept and messy. She wished she'd thought to pack a comb, but she didn't know if Android 18 had grabbed one for her when she'd packed her knapsack. Her face blushed a bright crimson.

After a moment, Bulma took in a deep breath and observed her Saiyan Prince instead, satisfied with the shock and awe she saw displayed on his face as the little world of the front of the club seemed to disappear around them.

As he took in his wife's appearance, she could detect no sign or any indication within Vegeta's black irises that he was at all pleased with the news that he was going to become a father. She swallowed down hard past a lump in her throat as the hostess's voice broke her out of their moment.

"Right this way, please, if you'll follow me," she chirped, clutching now seven menus close to her chest, though before the cute alien could turn on the heels of her sparkly stilettos, Goku standing behind Bulma piped up with a question of his own, right as his stomach emitted the loudest grumble she'd ever heard, causing Bulma's cheeks to burn.

"Uh, I don't wanna be rude, but do you guys serve food here? I—I mean, the pretty ladies are nice and all, but I'm kinda starved."

"Of course they do, you clown!" Prince Vegeta bellowed, his face paling as he scoffed and rolled his eyes, huffing and crossing his arms across his chest. "Why am I always surrounded by idiots?" Vegeta grumbled to himself, though a flicker of something unreadable darted through Vegeta's eyes.

He turned towards Bulma, though something within her caused a shift upon seeing the intensity of her husband's burning gaze, and before she could stop herself, she'd closed off the gap of space and smashed her lips against his, not giving him a chance to react or to pull away.

It was messy, eager, and far from perfect, but Bulma let out a contented sigh as Vegeta held her waist in one hand, and the other dug almost painfully tight into the back of her hair until she felt his nails almost scrape her scalp. But Bulma, for the first time in her life, couldn't manage to pretend to care about her hair. Vegeta could muss up her hair and put wrinkles in her outfit all he wanted, as long as he kept kissing her like this for now.

Vegeta broke away first, his cheeks flushed with color. Bulma couldn't tell if she'd embarrassed her husband just now with her little public display of affection in the lobby of this club in front of the hostess's stand and all of their friends, but Bulma couldn't get enough.

She pulled her Saiyan Prince back in for another kiss, deeper this time, and at a different, somehow magical angle. Bulma shivered as she heard Vegeta let out a groan of relief. Bulma felt so solid in his grasp, so real, so, so his, and he'd not realized just how much he needed to feel her until this moment.

An angry voice, however, 18's, cut them out of their passionate embrace.

"Whoa, hey, hey, hey!" the blonde android shouted, causing Bulma to break apart and her head whiplashed sharply to the left as she looked at her bodyguard leaning against the hostess's stand, an annoyed look plastered on her face. "You two gonna screw each other right here?"

Android 18 scrunched her nose in disgust and pulled a face. Krillin was looking away in embarrassment, beet red as a tomato, and Prince Tarble looked like he wanted to laugh, though he'd gone ahead and covered Gure's eyes to give his brother some privacy.

Bulma felt a surge in her temper flare towards her bodyguard, though before she could speak and tell 18 to mind her own fucking business, the hostess interjected and cautiously stepped in between 18 and Bulma.

Eager it would seem, to avoid a conflict.

"Look, lady, why don't you go upstairs if you're feeling frisky," the hostess quickly explained, actively avoiding Vegeta's growing look of outrage as his own face reddened. "It's way cleaner than any bedbug-ridden hotel in this part of town, and all of the rooms upstairs are equipped with special features. Full luxury suits for any of our guests should they decided to spend the night with one of our lovely ladies."

Bulma blinked owlishly, feeling certain she'd misheard. "Huh? B—but I thought it was some kind of whorehouse upstairs?" she squeaked, looking towards the stairwell with only slight trepidation. She'd seen way worse.

The hostess smiled patiently. "What I'm saying is, you can have your choice of rooms. It's your lucky day, lady. Thirty Omori for two hours of the allotted time," she remarked happily.

Bulma glanced sideways at Vegeta out of the corner of her peripherals, who, she was more than a little amused to see, had gone entirely red and his back was turned from the others. She must have embarrassed him just now by kissing him like that in front of everyone, but she wouldn't take it back at all.

"Hear that, Geta? I'd be down for that," she teased, a wry little smile tugging at her lips. Though her smile faltered, her expression turning into one of confusion as Vegeta turned around sharply and shot the hostess a look of daggers. The murderous look in his black eyes suggested her Prince was royally fucking pissed, and Bulma hoped discord wasn't about to break out. By the way that his fists were shaking, she was honestly kind of surprised he'd not turned Super Saiyan.

"Listen, Bulma, I don't expect you to know this as you've never been to this wretched pathetic little planet before, but if we spent even an hour in one of those rooms, by tomorrow morning, they'd be selling holographic recordings of us spending a night in that stupid room all over the planet for 25 Omori a pop," he growled, his tone dangerously low and quiet as he stalked towards the hostess, who darted back behind her stand, as though she thought the barrier could protect her from Prince Vegeta's anger.

"Oh, what?" Bulma's eyes widened as she looked towards the alien hostess of Madame Destiny's for confirmation. The uneasiness in the woman's light lavender eyes pretty much confirmed her husband's words. "Well, then, if that's how it's gonna be, then shouldn't you let us use the room for free?" Bulma snapped, curling her manicured fingers into fists at her side. "Porn actresses get paid too. This is a capitalist planet, right?" she asked, glancing towards 18, who shrugged.

Bulma heard Vegeta make an odd grunting noise of disbelief and horror upon hearing the question his mate had just asked.

Vegeta's hand-wound around Bulma's shoulder and tugged her back away from the hostess stand.

"Look, babe, that's not the point! YOU might be fine with...with whoring yourself out like some common wench, but I'll not have my wife subjecting herself to nasty perverts!" he snapped, the skin of his brow pulled taut across bone as he shot her a look.

He was looking increasingly frustrated, though there was a darkening glimmer in her husband's black eyes, a look Bulma thought she had come to recognize. A look of abhorrence and frustrated desire for her. Yup. There was no doubt about it. They were getting one of those luxury suites for an hour.

But the hostess interjected. "So?" she prodded, sounding like she was beginning to get nervous. She didn't want a fight to break out and scare away their customers. "What's it gonna be? Do you want the suite or not?"

"Of course, they want the room, lady, but don't you even think about recording a damn thing while the Prince has control of the room. It'll be the last thing you ever do!" Android 18 huffed in frustration as she kept her hands on her hips and shot a look towards her charge and the Saiyan Prince. "I'm gonna give you a pass since maybe you don't know who this is, and then you'll think twice about charging for the room," she smirked, gesturing with a wave of her arm to Vegeta. "That's Prince Vegeta of the planet Vegeta-sei and his wife, uh, the Princess Bulma Briefs…"

"Oh! I'm so terribly sorry, Your Highness!" the hostess squeaked, clamping her hands over her mouth, dropping her menus to the floor, or she would have, had Goku not darted to catch them. Her purple eyes went wide and round as a dinner plate, thinking that she had offended the Prince of All Saiyans by not recognizing Prince Vegeta. "I—I didn't know you would be coming, sir! I—I didn't e—expect you here, Highness!"

"Tch," Vegeta huffed and rolled his eyes, keeping his arms firmly across his chest. "Don't bother yourself over it. I've never set foot in this place before tonight and I never plan to return," Vegeta growled, glowering at Android 18 as she shot him a triumphant smirk and proceeded to follow their hostess as she led them to a roped off, lavish-looking part of the club, the VIP section, he supposed.

Android 18 shoved her hands in the pockets of her short denim skirt, her hips swaying as she walked. Vegeta snorted as he noticed several interested male customers shoot the blonde android lustful stares and more than a few jealous stares from the hired girls who worked at this joint.

"What?" Android 18 shrugged in a casual way as she felt Vegeta's piercing stare almost burn a hole in the back of her head. "You're a Prince, aren't you? I want to make sure we get the best table and the best food in this joint…even if it means taking advantage of your title…"

"Oh, thank Kami, I'm really starving!" Goku groaned, clutching at his stomach, as though if he were in an immense deal of pain.

The hostess waited to speak until the group settled into a dark crimson leather booth that looked immaculate and cleaned.

"Can I get you guys anything to drink?" the hostess asked politely. "The first round is on the house, on us, Your Highness," she squeaked, looking to Vegeta who grunted wordlessly in reply. "Please make yourselves comfortable and let me know if there's anything else I can get for you. If you want to use the room, the third luxury suite is available. Upstairs, third door to your right."

The group except for Bulma and Vegeta each ordered a drink and needed a few minutes to look over their menus. "Keep our drinks coming!" Android 18 hollered after the hostess, crossing her long legs, and leaning back in the booth, a smug smirk on her face.

She shot Bulma a furtive little wink as the others got settled in their seats. Bulma felt a fiery heat creep to her cheeks as she blushed and looked away, mumbling something under her breath about how they'd be down to join the group for something to eat in thirty minutes. Vegeta's hand slid down and wound through her fingers almost in a tight vice grip as he led her up the stairs, almost stalking his way up until they came to the promised suite.

He let out a grunt as he didn't even bother to use the doorknob and kicked it open with his boot. Bulma frowned at that but let it go. She sensed only one thing was on his mind. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Bulma's eyesight slowly took in their new surroundings, their temporary place of privacy, even if it was just for thirty minutes.

A fire was lit in the fireplace at the other end of the wall, the lavish-looking bed shoved up against the wall, covered in a red-wine silk quilt that looked expensive. A chilled bottle of some kind of alien wine rested in a tin bucket of ice on a small wooden table, alongside a slice of what looked and smelled like a grain cake that reminded Bulma of the cornbread her mother would make back at home on Earth. She slowly walked over to the bed and sat perched on the mattress's edge, all the while Vegeta copied her movements and observing his wife casually, or so it seemed.

Looking at the Prince while he was waiting, silently asking her to confirm the truth, Bulma felt a foreign sense of power rush through her veins. Everything depended on her words now and on her body, to put it more precisely. With just one sentence, their entire world, their relationship, would change, and hopefully for the better, now that the arrogant Prince of All Saiyans had something worth protecting, Bulma hoped.

"Why didn't you answer? I called for you," Bulma whispered as she turned around and sat down on her heels, so she was now directly facing Vegeta, taking his rough hands in hers as she peeled off the Saiyan's gloves.

"Tch. Blame Kakarot for that one, Bulma," he growled, a note of anger seeping its way into his tone as he winced, rubbing at the back of his head. He shifted just slightly, and Bulma could see a good-sized knot the size of an egg forming at the base of his skull.

"Ouch," she visibly winced, biting her bottom lip. "Shit, that looks like it hurts!" She paused, a wave of sympathy wracking over her body. "Guess that explains why you didn't answer me when I called," she berated herself, knowing he'd probably still been knocked out when she'd screamed for his help. "Does it hurt? Are you alright, Vegeta?"

He grunted but nodded his head to show he'd heard her words and was listening to his wife.

"It's fine, but I don't want to talk about me. Is it true?" he huffed in frustration, staring right into Bulma's eyes as he closed her hands within his. Kami, she'd truly managed to move a mountain here. She'd stirred something within Vegeta just now, making him yearn to hear the truth from her lips.

Tracing his palms' lines with her fingertips, she contemplated what they felt like and why she'd never touched them before.

"Y-yes. I'm pregnant, Geta. Two months, I think. At least, that's what Android 18 says. I uh…wasn't keeping track of my cycles as well I should have. I—I guess I've had a lot on my mind lately," she whispered.

She swallowed as she looked up at him, completely composed and calm, a stark contrast to his almost angry and embarrassed nature he'd exhibited downstairs in front of the hostess not even two minutes ago, perfectly hiding the sense of euphoria that filled her within. She was going to be a mom.

Vegeta freed one of her hands and lifted it to Bulma's cheek, caressing it gently, slightly absentmindedly as well, which was strange for him. He usually had no interest in such affectionate gestures, Bulma thought.

His face remained expressionless as always, but his eyes, however, were not, and she'd known her Saiyan Prince well enough to pick up on all the small details at this point. The way he tightly squeezed onto her hands or the gentle way he caressed her cheek spoke to Bulma of an immense sense of relief, that he had done it. Their race wasn't going to end with the last few of their kind, after all.

Maybe he'd been waiting for it for so long that there was a small part of Vegeta that actually felt joy at hearing he was going to have a Saiyan heir? Or at least a half-Saiyan? Or maybe Saiyan men always felt awkward with something they couldn't quite comprehend that was completely outside the scope of their area of expertise? There was also a third option, that it was all just a show, but Bulma chose to believe that wasn't the case, at least until he gave her indication to believe otherwise. Too many emotions were swirling around in her tired mind. Somehow, Bulma hoped that it was the same with Geta.

The rough pad of Vegeta's thumb slowly traced the outline of her lips and she shuddered at the implication. Vegeta had never touched her mouth before quite like this. It made her convinced their time in this so-called luxury suite of this club was going to be like nothing she had ever experienced, her anticipation and nervousness steadily growing. Bulma was curious, sensing whatever was running through his mind had the potential to amount to something amazing.

She was tempted to try to initiate their bond on her own, but there was a part of her that wanted to be surprised by his answer and reaction.

"How do you feel about it, Bulma?" he asked, his thumb now sliding down her angular jaw, making Bulma shiver.

"I'm glad," she answered. No need to pretend because she felt good about it, really.

Vegeta gazed at his wife for a moment, the stare of his reaching for something to pull out of her bearing deep into Bulma's soul, seeking the truth.

"And how do you feel?" Bulma bravely decided to return the question, looking at her mate with the same intensity.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a smile, one of two genuine smiles she'd seen on his face in the few weeks of their marriage, the first being that moment in the alleyway the night they'd met up with Goku and Chi-Chi at the carnival before the huge worm had interrupted what was otherwise a pleasant ending to their first official date.

"The same as you, Woman. My race will continue, and our son will be stronger than Kakarot's brat, I can promise you that much," he growled, something flitting in his eyes, a competitive streak to always out-do Goku, and just like that, Bulma believed Vegeta.

Vegeta didn't hide it well enough, or maybe he'd never intended to conceal the truth from her. Either way, it felt true enough.

His thumb returned to her lips, hovering, and for a moment, Vegeta stared at Bulma's mouth as though it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen in the universe. Her breaths quickened in anticipation for whatever was about to come.

"Your muscles are tense, Woman," he finally muttered in a gruff-sounding voice. Bulma thought about arguing that Vegeta was tenser than her but didn't want to argue now. "Turn around," he ordered in his hoarse tone.

Bulma did as she was told, her pulse and heart rate racing as she did so. His hands worked their way up her arms until they landed on her shoulder muscles.

As he started to expertly massage them, Bulma realized he was right, that though she was calm and composed on the outside, her body was tense.

She wasn't sure if it was a result of tiredness, now that she knew she was pregnant, or stress at her narrow escape at what Vegeta's father had tried to do earlier.

Bulma hesitated, biting down on her tongue hard enough to bleed as she closed her eyes and shakily tried to breathe through her nose to calm down. She didn't know how to broach the topic. If she should tell him at all.

The swirling conflicting thoughts showed no signs of relenting in her mind anytime soon, though they became less and less prominent the more pressure Vegeta flinched with his fingers that made the tension diminish, and soon Bulma leaned into the touch.

She let out a groan softly, closing her eyes, her body leaning towards his until she felt Vegeta's strong frame against hers, securing her firmly so she'd not fall off.

"Vegeta?" she whispered, her voice escaping her lips as a low croak, heavy with desire, but before she could lose her sense of self before Vegeta could take it another step, she decided she couldn't keep this from him.

Father or not, he deserved to know the truth. She flinched as he grunted in response. Bulma swallowed thickly down past a lump in her throat, her tongue feeling dry in her mouth. "I—th—there's something…that I should tell you. It's—your dad, he tried to…he tried to…he-uh…nearly forced himself on…"

She didn't see it, but she could practically sense Vegeta's jaws hardening, and she heard him let out a long, haggard growl. "Did he?" he demanded, sounding angry as she felt him cup her chin in his hand.

"N—no…" she flinched, staring as she could feel the anger and hatred that barreled from Vegeta's eyes. "I—I h—hit him and ran to Tarble and 18. That's when we came here in one of the escape pods. We're heading back to Earth, b—but I—I wanted to find you first and tell you the news. You can yell at me if you want," she whispered, her voice sounding surprisingly meek. "Scream if you have to, hit me or take it out on a boulder or do whatever you have to, but talk to me, Vegeta."

She winced at the fathomless look of rage and a number of untold emotions flitting through her husband's eyes at her unpleasant news. She sensed an outburst was coming and she knew if she couldn't calm him down, there was going to be a huge problem on her hands.

"H—he didn't," she repeated through gritted teeth, hoping her words reached him. "H—he tried to, but he didn't do it, Vegeta."

He raised his head at the sound of her hesitant voice. Bulma decided a change in their conversation was necessary. "Where will you go?" she asked in a timid voice. "When the rest of us return to Earth, where will you go?" she asked, thinking he would probably want to take another of her father's spaceships and go to some distant remote planet to train. It's what Goku would do.

What she wasn't banking on, was the look Vegeta shot her. An incredulous look of disbelief and anger coupled with shock, a withering glower that only barely hid his ire.

"What?" he exclaimed sourly. "What are you talking about, Woman? I'm staying on Earth. I'm staying by your side, so drop it. I wouldn't miss the birth of my heir to train. I'm not a fucking moron like Kakarot is, Bulma, so get that out of your head now. It's obvious to me I can't leave you alone anymore, the rest of the entire fucking universe can't be trusted around my wife."

He sounded offended, as though the very idea of Bulma suggesting he leave stung.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Bulma pressed her warm lips on his, and Vegeta was more than willing to welcome her embrace. Vegeta ran his hands through the blue strands of her hair and held her at the back of her neck before pressing his weight on her further until they rested against the bed's mattress.

Breathing hard, Bulma worked to deprive him of his clothing as he peeled out of his armor, her hands found their way under his grey jumpsuit, pleased that he'd taken to wearing the grey and yellow armor she made.

He threw it behind him with almost no regard, while she stopped for a moment, thinking her husband was quite a sight. His toned, well-developed muscles with quite a number of hundreds of scars as battle wounds, though Bulma knew Vegeta saw them as decorations, memories, badges of honor.

Her fingertips traced along their edges slowly. She was slightly tempted to kiss them all, inch by inch, but as she looked up, such thoughts vanished. Vegeta's eyes were dark, dark with luster, darker than she'd ever seen them before. But it didn't frighten her.

She thought hers looked almost alike. He helped her shrug out of her clothes, and once she was completely naked beneath him, she pressed her lips to his for a passionate kiss and she groaned into the kiss.

She was making all kinds of sounds at his efforts to please her, as his lips traveled down her neck, the skin of her collarbone, below her navel, before kissing the surface of her stomach and his hand rested on her flat abdomen. She wondered if her husband was trying to sense their unborn baby's energy.

Bulma didn't plan for this next part to slip out, but it just sort of…well, slipped out.

"Vegeta."

His name emitting from her mouth in a ragged whisper heavy with lust, barely audible. Oh, but the Prince of All Saiyans heard it well enough. She imagined if he'd still had his tail, it would have perked up at the sound of his name coming from her lips. She let out a low whine as he stopped his movements and rested on his elbows on either side of her, looking down at Bulma, and she could swear his coal-black eyes were blazing pits of fire as she whispered his name.

She was breathing hard, wanting nothing more than for him to move inside her. He was her husband. She had every Kami-given right to address him by his name.

"Say it again, Woman," he ordered in a low growl, and she yelped as he entered her swiftly in one abrupt thrust, letting out a low groan. "Louder. Scream it, Bulma, sing for me," he demanded, as he started thrusting, her legs wound tightly around his hips to grant him deeper access, letting him fill her.

And she came for him, screaming the Saiyan Prince's name at the top of her lungs, hoping the walls of this club's luxury suite were soundproof. Her hands pulled Vegeta down for a kiss, demanding it. And he kissed her fervently, everywhere he could manage to reach, with Bulma arching and writhing beneath him. Their bodies moved against one another in almost perfect harmony, and for the first time since their marriage, she felt truly joined as one with Prince Vegeta now.

Neither of them needed long, and they came together. She was too exhausted, her voice too hoarse to scream anymore, so this time it was a silent peak, with Vegeta grunting her name into the blade of her left shoulder.

He made no effort to pull out as both of them tried to regain their breathing. Only then did he slowly ease out of her and disentangled himself from her legs, which she didn't even realize were still wrapped around him.

She must have been a sight to behold as she was resting against the mattress with a satiated smile on her lips, sweat beading along her forehead, her hair a tousled mess, because, for a moment, Vegeta just stared at her.

"Do you love me, Vegeta?" she asked, the question tumbling unchecked from her lips before she could stop herself. She flinched, biting down on her bottom lip as she watched her husband give a visible start to her question.

Vegeta dressed slowly, then returned his attention to Bulma, still drunk and his eyes half-lidded from the overwhelming satiation. He strode to the edge of the bed and held out his hand to help her up.

She stared at him, thinking she'd overstepped just now. "Wh—what? D—did I say something wrong? Oh, I'm sorry, am I not supposed to engage you in a conversation after sex? It's a human thing to do, you know, I don't know how it is for you Saiyans," she stared, feeling more than a little flustered as he planted a rough kiss on her lips, his movements almost urgent, demanding, and possessive as he held her.

"9000," was all he said, a wandering smirk on his lips. Bulma watched him, still panting as he stood and gathered his scattered clothes and his armored chest plate, for the first time seeing her husband as the gods had made the Saiyan Prince. Gods or demons? At the moment, she didn't give a damn, just enjoyed the splendor of Vegeta.

He pulled back slightly to study her face and huffed in frustration at seeing her confusion, seemingly annoyed that she didn't get it. "It's…my…you wanted to know why I married you...I married you, Woman, because I..."

He stammered as a maddening blush crept along his cheeks.

"My…affection for you, I—I may not ever be able to say it, and if I never say it again, then you should know that it's over 9000, which is quite an accomplishment, Woman," he growled, frustrated that he had to explain it. "I love you," he growled. "There. I fucking said it. Do you want me to say it again backward this time? You love I. Or I could say it in Saiyan..."

Suddenly, Bulma's confusion dissipated. She couldn't' believe her ears. Had she really heard what she thought she'd heard? Was her mind playing a trick on her? But it couldn't be. Gruff and annoyed-sounding though he was, Vegeta still sounded sincere. No, it couldn't be a trick of her mind.

She felt her heart swell at his words, words she never thought she would hear from him. It was, she guessed, about as close to an "I love you," as the Saiyan Prince could come. He knew, he recognized, and understood his feelings. And he'd said them of his own volition without her having to ask.

That alone made his confession all the more touching, all the more beautiful to her.

She swallowed as she parted her lips open to speak as she'd finished dressing, making a grab for her knapsack, and instinctively reaching for his left hand, feeling his black and blue tungsten band over her finger. Although shaky and hoarse, her voice, thank Kami, decided to finally cooperate.

Bulma flung open the door of the suite and paused in the entryway, not letting go of Vegeta's hand, thinking they'd better get downstairs soon and join the others before they were missed.

She shot him a soft smile and didn't even have to think hard about what she wanted to say, though she chose their shared telepathy as a means of sparing him any further embarrassment on his part if someone happened to overhear this next part.

I love you too, Vegeta.