Title: Thunder And Roses

Author: Pale Orchid

Rating: R

Summary: Will Bulma ever find the guy for her?

Category: Romance/Slight Angst

Spoilers: Nope, nada, nothing.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the DragonBall Z characters or anything even remotely DBZ related. I'm just a poor Aussie girl with too much time on her hands.

Archiving : If you want it, send me a note and I'll say yeppers

Feedback: Ya know, it's all good, all the time. PaleOrchids@hotmail.com or press the little review button at the end of the page. Yep, that's the one. Go on, it won't bite. At least, not the first time. J

Authors Note: Warning, warning! Danger! This IS the small lemon. And don't worry, you didn't miss something. You're supposed to come in half-way for added effect... or something like that.

Thunder And Roses.

Chapter Two: Fire At Midnight.

The two bodies moved together, sweat coated limbs tangled with bedclothes. Mouths opened and gasping, alternating between kissing, sucking, biting. Hands were grasping at anything, backs, breast, the sheets, anything to steady them. Anything to keep up the contact.

The delicious sliding feeling, as he pushed and twitched within her. Her legs were wrapped around him, crossed at the ankles, holding on, not letting him withdraw fully from her. Her short nail ripped the skin on his back, as they passed over his rippling muscles.

He could feel the sharp pain as her nails cut into his back and thrust harder into her, causing her to gasp a strangled scream. He tried to keep his gaze on the headboard, but it kept pulling back to her eyes. He wasn't supposed to look at her. Not to give her ideas. An idea that this could be more than it was. And it was just connivance.

Her eyes were closed at the moment, her head shifting from side to side, her mouth open, lips moving, whispering something. He wasn't supposed to care what. But he did. He wanted to know what his ministrations made her say.

Instead, he moved his hand and eyes to her breasts, relishing in the sight they were. Using his fingertips he brushed them along one erect nipple, smirking at the gasp she gave, and the way the nub of flesh seamed to strain ever more upwards, wanting more. Using just one fingertip he moved it around her breast, starting from the nipple and moving down and around in a spiral.

Her breath was coming faster and faster now, her body filled with a tingling she couldn't quite track. It spread from her center, up through her chest and then she lost the feeling. There was too much going on for her to track it. The feelings he invoked within her, the way his hands felt as they alternated between squeezing and caressing her breasts. God, she wished he would never stop!

When his hand left her breast she whimpered slightly, only to hear his voice a few moments later, whispering in her ear. "You liked that did you?" Every word was accompanied by a quick thrust of his hips. She moaned with his movement.

Seizing the moment, he quickened his thrusts, unable to keep from watching her. He loved the way she looked when she was beneath him. He was close to the edge, but he wanted to watch her loose herself before he went. Leaning down he grasped a jiggling nipple between his lips and rolled his tongue over and around it. His eyes glanced upwards to see her reaction.

As soon as his mouth touched her breast she started to quiver under him. As he suckled on her nipple she felt her insides spasm as they turned to jelly. Her brain lost any coherent thought. She threw her head back and sobbed as her orgasm reached and blew her away.

Between the look in her eyes and the rippling of her inside walls as her orgasm rode her, he couldn't have lasted another second. With an almost animalistic sound he lost his control and spill his seed within her. With a last ounce of energy he collapsed lightly on top of her.

When he at last opened his eyes, hers were still shut. Her breath had slowed and her features showed the relaxation of sleep. It was hardly surprising. Every time he had been with her, she had fallen into a deep sleep after.

Careful not to wake her, he slipped out of her and got up off the bed. His gaze rested for a few stolen moments as he looked upon her sleeping form. Then he reached for the blanket to cover her up.

He stood in the bedroom, watching the way the light from a street-lamp outside, seemed to make her glow. Only in the last few minutes with her did he lose his control. Otherwise it was unbreakable. But just the feel of her, the look in her eyes was enough to unravel all the work he had perfected over his years. As he looked longingly at her, he noticed the glistening of tears in the corner of her eyes.

But the fact remained – he didn't love her. It had to be that way. Whatever else he felt for the woman, he couldn't love her. He must not.