Simply Irresistible
Chap. 2
NCDavis
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or its characters. They belong to the wonderful Toriyama-san. This story is a work of fan fiction and is intended for entertainment purposes only. Please do not send Frieza to destroy my home planet or to sue me.
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Bulma wiped her hands on the apron. She'd worked hard to bring Vegeta back from the brink yet again. Tests run on the blood she'd gathered from his great collapse had proven her theory. Abuse of the R.C. had left him chemically imbalanced and horribly malnourished. She'd shown him the results. He hadn't requested that the chamber be rebuilt. Small victory there. She'd worked out a diet and supplement that would replenish what was lost, and it seemed like he'd made a full recovery. As much of one as he could make given he'd gone back to his blasted training the second he could get out of bed.
At least he stopped to eat. He'd be in for lunch soon. She wasn't much of a cook, but this way she made sure he ate what he needed. What bothered her now was his mental state. He wasn't delusional anymore, but neither was he himself. He was too, well, quiet. He barely spoke a word to her, which wouldn't be odd except it wasn't his usual surly, annoyed silence that met her. There was a sadness about him. If she hadn't known better, she'd've said he was depressed.
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He could feel it. There. Just at the tips of his fingers.
"DAMN!" Vegeta collapsed to his knees, pounding his fist into the floor. So close. So damn close. "Why can't I cross the threshold? Why is the legendary Super Saiyan level denied me? I'm the prince. I am!"
Gravity at 400G. Training bots at level 20. Ready.
He ignored the computer, digging his fingers into the matting. If he couldn't beat Kakarrot, what was the point.
Training bots commencing exercise.
Yet he had to beat him. He had to. It was his destiny. His father's legacy.
"AAAAGH!" He grabbed a bot by its arm and slammed into the wall. And the next. "I hate you Kakarrot! I hate you!" He crashed another to the floor..
Warning. External Override activated. Training bots powering down. Gravity level dropping. 350G.
He ripped off their arms as the bots landed around him, ramming them into their circuitry guts. "I want your third class carcass to lie at my feet! Humbled by my hands!"
150G. 100G. 50G. 1G. Gravity now at normal planetary levels.
He hurled mangled metal bodies, decimating them in a blinding barrage of blasts.
He didn't expect one to scream.
He waited for the dust to clear. A figure emerged.
Unspent rage still trembled within him. Never mind the idiot female could have been injured. The words barely passed his constricted throat.
"Why do you disturb me."
She stared at him. "I--I came to get you for lunch."
He didn't answer, but watched as she gaped at the carnage around her.
"I saw . . . through the door. . . . This isn't training. You've gone mad. You've gone stark mad. I can't believe you'd trash our stuff like this." She picked up a disembodied arm. I brought you into our home because no one else would want you." Her voice strained. "We put up with your demands. We built you a gravity room. We built and rebuilt bots. We've lost nights of sleep indulging you so you could train. And here you are destroying them. Not in training wear and tear, but in a FRIGGIN' TEMPER TANTRUM!"
"Don't start with me, Woman."
She dropped the arm, storming over debris until she stood in his face. "That's all you can say to me?" Fire lit her eyes. "I've saved your Saiyan ass more times than was sane without one single 'thank you'. I've put up with your ordering us around in our own home, and you don't want me to start? You insufferably arrogant bastard."
He caught her hand mid-swing. His muscles were coiled for explosion. He'd killed for less insolence, but something stayed him. Her fury. His rage. The air crackled around him. His breath labored; incensed passion hardened him. He needed a release no destruction would give him.
He took her down to the mat with a sweep of her legs. He pinned her body with his.
Fear. The sudden change in her scent broke through to his mind. He looked down confused.
"Not this, Vegeta," she whimpered.
Human. There were times he forgot. Her body would not know his way. He reached to stroke the hair at her temple. Her pupils dilated; her body relaxed.
Her kind had no tail. But there should be a spot.
"What part of you prepares your body for a male?"
Her eyes widened. "Huh?"
"What part."
She didn't answer, but glanced down. The movement was unconscious, he was sure, but it led him.
He slid his other hand up her leg, beneath her skirt to the juncture of her thighs. Exploring, he found a tiny, hooded nub. Her intake of breath told him all he needed to know. He flicked his thumb across it.
She bucked against his hand. "Vegeta?"
He continued stroking her. A flush covered her face. The nub swelled beneath his touch. His pushed down his garment. Disposed of her underclothes. And joined her.
Her wetted sheath caressed him. Each stroke begged him to thrust again, harder, faster. His loins, heavy, throbbed as the center of his being. He grunted his relief as the coil within him unwound.
His breathing lost the guttural undertone. Calm slowly returned to him. And reason. Of course he'd beat Kakarrot. Super Saiyan was almost in his grasp. He'd just have to train harder.
He removed himself from her and neatly rearranged his clothing. As he got to his feet, he heard a strained sound of protest from the woman. She scrambled to sit up.
"Where do you think you're going?" Frustration shrilled her voice.
"Lunch." He walked toward the door.
"LUNCH! Now?"
He turned around. What little guilt he had pricked at him. He supposed he did owe her something.
"I'll clean up the bots."
"Who gives a damn about them!"
He was puzzled. "I thought you were upset about my making a mess of the training bots."
"Ooooooh! How can you think of bots after, after what just happened here!"
"What are you worked up about. It was just a rutting, though I guess I should thank you."
"Excuse me?"
"For a Saiyan, there are certain kinds of anger or frustration that cannot be relieved even through destruction." He motioned towards the wreckage. "It can be relieved only through the letting of lust. A rutting." He chuckled. "If you'd come along sooner, you may have saved a few bots."
"Oh, don't worry about the bots." She picked up a mangled ball. "I'd worry about yourself!"
He dodged the hunk she'd hurled at him and stepped into the corridor. Another object crashed against the door as it slid shut. Hmph, and she'd scolded him about his temper. Human females left him in complete bafflement. What was she so upset about anyway?
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Reading was no use either. Bulma flung the novel across the room and flopped belly first back onto her bed. Outside her window she could hear birds chirping their happiness.
"Oh shut up!"
They stopped for a moment, as if they'd really heard her and took pity, but it didn't last.
She huffed. She shouldn't take it out on them, but Vegeta, as usual, was rarely around to yell at. He could train for days on end, emerging from his training room only to eat and to sleep. Maybe to go to the bathroom. She swore he had the bladder of a jumbo whale. Some part of her still felt he was working way too hard, but she ignored it. Right now, she wanted him to keep right on training till he dropped dead in his sweat socks.
She tried not to think about it, but there were times, right as she fell to sleep, that day would float into her consciousness. In the training room. God, just the memories of how he aroused her made her horny all over again. She'd been building to this incredible brink. And then . . . nothing.
She had to admit to herself that she'd fantasized about what being in bed with him was like. When she first invited him to stay with her family, she'd thought he was cute. Somewhere along the way cute had advanced to sexy. His compact body so muscled. The grace of his movements breathtaking. That bad boy aura so irresistible.
An unfortunate pillow received the punch she wanted to throw at him. How could he get her all revved up and leave her stranded? Heartless bastard. He'd called it a rutting. No duh. Now all her fantasies were shattered. How could a being so otherwise sexual be so bad in bed? Were all Saiyan men like this? How did Chi Chi stand it?
Bulma sat up, swinging her legs to the floor. No. She couldn't accept that what happened was the normal order of things. There had to be more to the story, and dammit, she was going to find out.
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She found Vegeta where she hoped, in his kitchen fixing a meal. She stocked his fridge now a couple of times a week so he could eat when he needed to.
She sat down at the table. He'd seen her, but so far hadn't said a word. She could wait.
He sat down with a plated joint of ham. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
She ignored his sarcasm. "We need to talk."
He flinched, and she couldn't help but be amused. Apparently even Saiyan men dreaded that sentence.
"What could we need to discuss."
"For starters, I don't see any vegetables with that ham."
"Hmph."
"Vegeta?"
"Fine."
He shoved his chair back, going to the fridge to rummage. He came back with a bowl each of steamed heads of cabbage and whole squash. He palmed a cabbage and took a bite, one that seemed designed to fill his mouth too much for talking. In this case, she didn't care if he had to talk around his food or not.
She waited till he'd finished about half the cabbage head and was taking a bite from the joint.
"So," she said, "let's talk rutting."
There was a little shred of glee in watching him choke. His glare said he wasn't nearly as amused. "Have you no sense of dignity woman! Saiyans do not discuss such issues at the meal."
"Ha. You mean male Saiyans only talk about it when girls aren't around." That he looked away told her she'd scored again. "Well, we are going to be a first."
He pushed his food away, crossing his arms in a huff. "So much for eating."
"Don't worry, you can finish afterwards. I'll even warm it up for you." She leaned her elbows on the table. "I want a straight up answer. That 'rutting' business. Is that real Saiyan sex?"
"I can't believe human females are this bold."
"They are when they get left hanging. Now answer my question."
"Rutting, as I told you, is a way to relieve stress. No more, no less."
"Oh, you mean like, in the morning, when you're still asleep and your boyfriend rolls you over."
"I wouldn't know. I don't have boyfriends."
She ignored that too. Yeah, it made sense, except one thing.
"So why'd you bother with the foreplay."
He looked puzzled.
"You know, the stroking of my hair," she flexed her fingers, "the manual manipulation in my nether regions."
"A Saiyan female wouldn't have needed it, but I--I sensed I would have injured you otherwise."
She wasn't prepared for that. His caring. Her heart skipped a little beat.
"And it seemed to calm you. You were clearly frightened at first."
"Well, duh, you don't lay a double-leg take-down on a girl and expect her not to be scared. What else is she supposed to think?"
"Else?" He pondered for a moment before he exploded. "It was a rutting, not a rape! I don't need to take females by force."
"Sit down. I don't think you raped me, but for a moment, I wasn't sure what you planned to do. Besides, that's getting a bit off the subject."
"Which is?" He retook his seat.
"Real Saiyan sex."
If she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn he was turning pink.
"Well," he cleared his throat, "as you've surmised, rutting isn't the only form of Saiyan coupling."
She leaned in even closer. "Go on."
He started to speak, but then clamped his mouth shut. He got up from the table to lean against the counter, arms still folded in front of him.
The silence stretched on. Bulma could see slight workings of his jaw. He really didn't want to tell her, but she had a feeling it wasn't just because of the topic. His first words surprised her.
"Tell me how I 'left you hanging'."
"Huh?"
He smiled. "You're not the only one who can be direct."
"Fair enough." She took a breath. "Those 'manipulations' of yours is the kind of thing a guy does to a girl to, well, arouse her." She felt her own cheeks warming. "Pleasure her. After that, let's just say rutting doesn't quite keep the promise your fingers were making."
She watched his furrowed brow. He straightened. "Are you trying to tell me I initiated umuraqh?"
Now she felt confused. "Oom-myour-rock?"
He winced. "Say it softer, Woman. 'Oom-myur-rakh.' Accent on the second syllable. Hmph, I don't butcher your language."
"What is it, and why do you think you started it?"
Oh yeah, the Saiyan prince was definitely blushing. Damn, where was a camera when you needed one.
"Umuraqh is . . . a deeper level of coupling, meant for more . . . intense mutual fulfillment."
"Whadda you mean 'more.' I don't recall the fulfillment in that rutting business being mutual."
"I keep telling you, a Saiyan female's body would have responded differently! She would have experienced some sort of closure." He relaxed a bit. "In any case, I did not understand that my actions would invoke such a response from you."
"Oh, so you didn't want it to feel good for me." For some reason, that hurt.
He struggled to find words. "I would have liked. . . . Damn. I didn't, as you put it, mean to make promises I had no intention of keeping. There. I've answered your question. I want to eat now."
"Just a moment. So this umuraqh is just your average sex?"
"Yes," he mumbled.
"You're lying to me."
"I've never lied to you."
"I know. That's what bothers me. I don't know much about the Saiyan language, but I have a feeling anything you don't translate when talking to me must be pretty unique. Spill it."
Grudging admiration flickered through his eyes.
"To share umuraqh is special, a sign that the two consider themselves mated."
"Like Goku and Chi Chi? Married?"
"No."
"Engaged? Promised to be married?"
He shook his head.
"Seeing each other exclusively?"
"Hmm. Y—Yes, that's closer to it.
"Now, my food."
Bulma got up to warm his supper. He'd actually been cooperative, so she shouldn't push her luck. Of course, "shouldn't" and "wouldn't" were two different things.
"So, do Saiyans get married?"
"Enough!"
"Aw, c'mon. Besides, I haven't warmed your food up yet."
"I'd rather eat cold food in peace than eat warm food in the midst of your incessant nagging!"
"But Vegeta—"
"Get OUT!"
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AN: A word about the funny little word that popped up in this chapter. Umuraqh is a word that, to the best of my knowledge, is mine and mine alone. It's a mish-mashing of the Japanese tsurumu, "to copulate ((animals); well, he does turn into a large ape))" and the Klingon ngagh, "mate with," with my own quirk thrown in (the "q"). Yes, Klingon. Let's face it, how better to describe Saiyans to non-DBZers than to say they're Klingons without the turtle-shell head. Plus, I think of the Saiyan language as having all these lovely, sensual, guttural cadences. Or maybe I just fantasize about Vegeta and Goku too much (you know Goku gives ya a little thrill when he's all mad and SSJ). Anywho, if you think it's worthy to be copied, so be it, but please credit the source.+