Part IV: Love Drug

"So, Trunks is living with you, huh?"

Vegeta didn't answer. Just punch, jabbed and kicked. Goku grinned, dodging.

"I take that as a yes."

Vegeta scoffed and kicked Goku square in the jaw. "Yes," he looked a little satisfied when Goku immediately jumped back up rubbing the spot.

"Ow," he laughed. "A little tense this morning, Vegeta?"

He didn't say anything at first and then stared at Goku, "If you want to talk so much, go home to your little mate, but otherwise remember that he who keeps his mouth shut is less likely to die."

"I take it you're more than a little tense." He got in fighting position and powered up. "Perfect."

Of course, it was all useless. Imaginative banter. An illusion. He wasn't really Goku nor did he have any possible idea who or what Trunks is (which surprised Vegeta a little that this thing would know about it.) He'd have to get the woman later to explain this to him. Wait, Vegeta caught himself. Explain what to him? That a hologram mentioned Trunks without even being told of him? Yeah, sure. Like he'd give Bulma that sort of power over him.

A hologram. A useful tool to Vegeta in his days of glory. Rarely used though; too much widespread use of the vid-screen and scouters. Holograms seemed old-fashioned and cheap.

But once again, he was proved by Earth's inferiority to every other planet he'd graced his presence on by the fact that the hologram was also rarely used; the twist was, because they were so new and expensive. He wanted to laugh out loud at how big the irony was.

While Frieza's empire was collapsing and holograms were dirt-cheap on even a high-priced planet, here it was just the opposite.

And yet, it surprised him today that the hologram would be so vividly like Kakarott. Even with the type of questions. Hell, the real thing hardly even asked questions before compared to this thing, to tell the truth. Something the woman said about interactive interface.

Heh..I'll interact with it.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes and punched Goku in the stomach. He wondered briefly, like he had before when he first started to play with his 'toy,' as the woman affectionately called it, if it could feel pain. If it in some way, was like the real Kakarott. He wanted it to feel pain, wanted Kakarott himself to feel how strong Vegeta became. All by myself, he mocked inside his head, sneering. Hate inside him boiled and he felt the need to kill. That's right, I did it all by myself. I can feel Super Saiya-jin ahead of me, Kakarott. So close, so fucking close. I can fucking smell it now.

And he dodged a punch. It felt half-hearted to him and he responded by a series of hyper-punches, as if to teach the hologram of his arch enemy a lesson. He would've 'played' with his toy earlier if only the woman brought her fat lazy ass out of bed and fixed it two days ago like she was supposed. Man, do all women on this shitball planet use the excuse 'post partum' to just up and do nothing like it's no big deal? If she were SAIYA-JINN, Vegeta thought, it'd be no big deal. In fact, he'd be HAPPY she incubated his brat. If only, if only...

Maybe it was a mistake, he thought out of the blue. Leaving the woman in the house with that... brat. It didn't feel right, it didn't-

WHAM

He fell back, blinking. He touched his lip and looked down at the small amount of blood that seeped out. The hologram whirred and Goku became the exorcist.

"Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta-"

The man in demand growled and turned his back on the flailing hologram. "WOMAN! Your fucking worthless contraption broke down!"

"Vegeta-"

"Shut the fuck up." And slammed the door shut.

----

It was every night she'd pray to God for this. She's hope for it every morning. It was every evening when she'd wait. It never happened. It never ever happened.

Until now.

She hummed, brushing her hair, looking satisfied at the rumpled sheets in the reflection. Yes, very satisfied. Of course, it was vague in her mind, very vague. She could hardly remember him...but it was him. Who else would it be?

All she COULD remember was his hands and his lips. He'd never really kissed her before...but she had felt it on her body. What was strange thought, she thought to herself, biting her lip in confusion. It was that Vegeta hadn't tried to take her in her sleep. Which was odd, even for someone as hard to read as Vegeta. Before, she smugly remarked to herself smiling again, that he'd take her anywhere, anyplace, at anytime. Never mind that she'd be working, sleeping or eating. The Prince wanted her and wanted her now. And who was she to turn down a prince?

She chuckled to herself. Maybe he was changing...growing up. Maybe he wasn't as hopeless as she had come to think. Of course...it'd take much more than one night of cuddling that she could barely remember to change her mind about him. But...she sighed and put her grinning face into her hand, it was an optimistic start.

"A couple more nights like that and one whole day of lovin' would be even a better start," she remarked to herself, giggling, "but life's like that," she sighed again, pretending to be disappointed. More like Vegeta's like that.

She picked up the brush to work through her hair again, thinking more about it. It was...simply glorious. She felt him in the bed, the same weight, and the same body structure...his skin vibrating with power. She bit her lip, blushing and laughing to herself. Then his hands on her... oh god, his HANDS. She burst out laughing, kicking her legs into the air. They felt so wonderful! He'd never been so gentle with her before! It was like something out of a dream...in fact, a part of her was afraid it might've been a dream.

"But," she talked to her twinkling reflection, "good thing I was half awake or else it might've all just slipped me!" 'Hmm,' she thought to herself. Maybe that's why he came to me then. Just when I was fed up, he decided just to tease me some more!

She didn't know whether to be mad or to tsk at him for being the naughty little minx this time. Bulma shook her head gently, her face beginning to hurt from all the happiness she was ignited with. "Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta...I'll be coming after you soon. I'll show you Bulma Briefs is not one to be teased..."

He had left in the morning, probably off to train, she humphed to herself. Exchanging testosterone with 'Goku' rather than loving me. But she wasn't mad at him, not really. More like, she felt like she was a panther. And her game had left her sights momentarily. "But he'll be back," she promised herself, brushing her blue hair to a silky sheen. "I'll make sure he'll be back...and stay there too."

----

He was staring at nothing at first. Then it all came into focus. Pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Same as yesterday. Except this time, he noticed a distinct change. There were little dots in his pancakes and he poked them.

"They're chocolate chips," his grandmother cheerfully yelled with her back turned. He looked at her with his eyebrow arched up. How did she DO that?

As much as there was a part of him that wanted to ponder this mystery...discover it and somehow exploit it, he knew he couldn't. Not enough time. He had to think about what to do with Bulma...

He looked at the empty used plate next to him and scowled.

And her unsavory mate...Vegeta.

Even thinking his name sounded pathetic and ugly to him. He shuddered and focused on trying to eat, if he could. Now that he thought of Vegeta, the thought turned to Vegeta smirking at him, the mental image that TAUNTED him.

He snarled softly to himself, trying to keep his grandmother from hearing. All that time with that bastard in the Time Chamber...he put some pancakes and eggs in his mouth and chewed. All that time he had thought that at least the guy would be tolerable. That he might fake being friends and it'd be okay. But no, he gripped the fork tightly and bent it, staring into his plate. It wasn't.

No, no, the guy wasn't even good enough to breathe in the same room with. Every day Trunks came up with a new way to kill him. New variations, trying to top himself, always perfecting what he wanted to do to Vegeta. That was one thing that kept him from going crazy. The other was his breaks where'd he sleep for barely two hours before that bushy-eyed troll decided to PMS again.

And he'd dream in those short periods of her, of her grace and how she needed him back at home. His dreams would be different every time. One time she'd be naked and his head would be in her lap, or she'd be fully clothed, or it'd be in-between with a skimpy outfit. It'd happen outside, inside, everywhere, in all kinds of weather. He smiled to himself, remembering a couple of dreams. Yeah, in any kind of weather and still resistant. He chuckled to himself and drank some milk. Those thoughts were one of the few things that cheered him up.

Only of her and her alone.

---

A wooden spoon quietly stirred the red stew, followed by some quick humming. "Oh I told the witchdoctor I was in love with you," Trunks belted out. "Oh I told the witch doctor I forgot the rest of the lyrics," he laughed and continued to sing, grabbing a piece of celery as a microphone, "Da, da, daddidaddida! Oo, ee, oo, ah-ah, ting tang walla walla bing bang! Oo ee oo ah ah, ting tang walla wall bing bang!" Oh God, if Gohan could see him now. Singing (and half remembering) kiddie tunes from childhood.

He came slightly to terms with it. Though he'll always hate the fucker for stealing the original away from him, at least he had this Bulma. Besides, once he saw the little Gohan of this timeline, he'll just kill the little shithead. You know... just in case. It never hurt to be too careful.

He brought up the spoon and tasted it, smiling. Yeah, sure to win Bulma's heart over.

"Hey Trunks!" His grandmother strolled in, dolled up in a jogging outfit. She gave him a warm look. "Cooking? Need help?"

"No, no, it's a surprise for a friend." Of course, he wouldn't say which friend. Though, it probably wouldn't matter if he said it anyway. Not like his grandmother would care.

"Oh how nice!" she chirped. "Now are you sure you don't need help?"

"Nah, that's alright." He forced a smile as he beat the stew, some of it splattering on him. Please let her leave soon, he pleaded to the invisible Gods.

"Ok then! How's everything going so far?"

"Great, Grandma."

"Want me to chop or wash or-"

"No, Grandma."

"How about cookies-"

"Everything's just FINE...Grandma." He finished the last part on a cheery tone to cover up the early harsh one. "I'd really rather I do it on my own. It's a sort of special thing that I want to share with someone I love." He blushed when she cooed and pinched his cheek.

"Got a girlfriend, have you?"

"Almost," he smiled. Guaranteed that is. He laughed a little.

"Oh alright!" She started to jog in place. She waved good bye, breasts bouncing and eye winking. "I set the stove for you, Trunksie! I'll just be out for a light jog." And left before he could sputter a 'NO!'

He immediately went to the stove, opening it, coughing a bit from the small cloud of smoke. "Grandma!" he yelled in frustration, biting his lip. "The pot roast!" he sobbed, getting on his knees and putting his head in his hands, shaking it. "The pot ROAST!"

Vegeta just then walked by the kitchen and stared, shaking his head at all, knowing for sure that something must've gone horribly wrong when he impregnated the woman. He hurrumphed and went on to find the woman, leaving the boy in his... pot roast agony (if you'd dare to call such a hysterical thing anything serious.)

---

"Now does this dress go better with these shoes... orrr," Bulma ran to her closet and brought out red pumps and a tight red dress. "WHAT ABOUT THESE?"

The stuffed bear had no comment. She blew a strand of blue hair from her face. "That awe-inspiring, huh?" She stood, putting the two dresses side by side for a second before picking one up and pushing it against her body.

"To be a sexy bitch or to not be a sexy bitch; that is the question." She laughed.

"I think the real question revolves around your sanity. Gone or not gone?" Bulma smiled, not even lifting her eyes from the mirror. She hugged to grey ensemble close to her body (specifically around the breast area) and smoothly answered, "Hello Vegeta." That's it, Bulma. Nice, easy, yet seductive, cool, and unattainable. He WILL pay for taunting you. You ARE the huntress.

He smirked. It's funny, you see... whenever he does that, it comes with a little chuckle. A sort of "Hmph!" but lighter and so much more... gorgeous. Almost lickable. Him with his always crossing arms pose, just against the doorway. Penetrating, almost like a sexual kind, look in his eyes. He's never looking at just one part of you but everything. Your face, your breasts, your stomach; bad points, good points, things he can take in to find a weakness like the warrior he's trained to be and the virile man he is. "What, no screeching?" He put a hand to his chest, pouting. "I'm so disappointed."

"Say what you want, Vegeta," she held down already curling anger, remembering this morning. She put a big smile on her face, white teeth showing. "It's not going to bother me tonight."

"Oh?" He looked amused, just leaning there. Bastard, she thought. God, does he ever NOT look good? She honestly felt like she looked like shit most of the time (even though she'd never admit it.) "And why's that?" His voice was laced with intrigue and his smell was invading the room, acting just like his eyes: a harsh round of sex for the nose.

Be cool. Huntress. Rowr. "Yes," her lips felt like ecstatic joy hurting themselves from spreading across her face. Rough little minx he's being. Playing stupid. "Because..." she looked at him, eyeing him very slowly from head to toe, pausing at the groin area long enough to give him the right message before going to his face. She winked.

"Because...?" He seemed to be enjoying this. This was new, even for her. A quiet, almost disinterested way to get his attention. A part (if not all) delighted in this, like the little boy he was. She thought she was going to win, but he had a surprise for HER.

Don't give up, it's just a challenge, it's just a challenge. "A woman doesn't need a reason." She threw the dress on the bed, walking slowly to get him to notice her curves. As if he needed to, she scoffed.

"Ah, so... a woman doesn't need a reason to explain herself. What about work? Does a woman need a reason to work? Because I have one." The little Vegeta in him shook his fist at the victory he received, watching a brief look of outrage sprout over her face.

Fuck hunting. This bastard's ass is mine, she thought. "What do you mean?" The tone underneath the calm quivered with rage.

"Your so-called 'toy' broke again. I thought I said get it fixed."

"WHAT? You come in here for ME TO FIX SOME SHITTY THING?!"

"Shitty is right! Most of your contraptions can't last two weeks let alone a promised lifetime!"

"Oh so now you insult my work?"

"What work? I've trained with scrap metal that does a better job."

"Well I don't see YOU training with scrap metal lately. Just MY stuff that I invented specifically for YOU."

"Well... that's..."

"A loss for words, Monkey? Hmm? What abou-"She was shoved into the wall, her face pressed like paper against a roach. Her arms were held behind her back and he breathed in her ear, hot breath licking at her skin like a harmless fire.

"Why do you test me?" He whispered. She groaned, trying to move away, struggling against his grip. He went down harder, pressing his body against her. His lips were right over her ear, breath sexually stimulating the hairs. The tongue so close... ugh, Bulma wondered why she was even thinking of it, why she was even getting turned on. All she could feel was pain at being smushed into the wall and yet all she wanted right now instead of being let go was for him to fuck her. Fuck her... make love... just that simple rocking motion the two hips made as they slammed into each other. "Why do you test me woman?" He sighed, perhaps on purpose since he probably knew what this did to her. What HE did to her.

"You know how it feels to be called a bitch, don't you?" she sucked in her breath, trying to get air. It hurt so much everywhere... oh... now being let go was on the same level as fucking. She needed it just as much. "A dog," he said. "Maybe it's nothing to you, but you never, and I mean NEVER fucking call me that again or I will rip you apart." She and he knew that could be done easily. It could be done here and no one would really be the wiser. He could say it was an accident; she wouldn't have any say since she'd be dead as a doorknob by then.

"What, a bitch?" The words rasped out from pursed lips that still struggled to breathe. The grip loosened and he chuckled into her ear, lips brushing the lobe.

"Don't test me anymore. Is that understood?"

He turned away and walked through the door way. Bulma wiped her mouth, lips in a snarl. She walked out of the room, looking after his cool muscled body in the hallway.

"I was wrong. You're not a monkey. You're just a fucking PIG. Yamcha treated me better than you could ev-wah oh!" It was amazing, she later reflected, how fast he could be. She often forgot that, smart as she may be. Her pride and anger got in the way before common sense could win the race and before she knew it, she was against the wall again.

Well, here we are again, a part of her thought dryly. Though, this time her head was facing Vegeta's. Bulma didn't think of this as a plus. In fact, she'd rather if it were like three seconds ago with her face smashed into the wall. Anger literally pulsed on the VEINS of his EYES. And lucky her, she got to stare at them.

"I am incomparable," he said simply.

Bulma began to notice just how close their bodies were. Friction and electricity could be easily made if one rubbed against the other. Ooh, and how that sounded so fucking tempting right now. Inside aside from the horniness, she felt pathetic. Useless. A sad excuse for a so-called empowered woman of her generation. Rather than standing up for herself, she would rather be made into a submissive slut drooling for a fuck.

But it's been so long, she groaned in her mind. So long since his hands were over her breasts, tweaking her nipples, grinding her ass roughly. Lips and legs, moans and groans; it was their own private party in the bedroom (or anywhere else.) Mating season was every hour as far as both were concerned.

And now she was left months without contact. Without a smooth touch, a seductive whisper to her neck, teasing her about what she was going to receive. A hand going over her stomach for different reasons than feeling a baby that caused it all to go away. A baby... she had to raise all her own and that he wanted no part of.

She narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Incomparable to what, pencil dick?"

He looked surprised for a second that she would fight back before turning her around and slamming her into the wall. Déjà vu, she thought, dry humor surfacing up again.

"I warned you," he hissed into her ear before putting a hand roughly on her breast, squeezing it hard. She cried out, not standing the pain. If their sex was rough before, she was given an idea that Vegeta was probably gentle all those other times.

Another hand went to her stomach, pushing it back close so her behind was touching his groin. He chuckled as he felt her shudder, leaning his hips in, moving up a bit, rubbing specific parts together. "Does this feel like a pencil dick?"

She hated him. She truly hated him right now. Of course, her body loved him as much as it could ever love a sexual being like Vegeta. But her mind... her heart... they felt betrayed and cruelly beaten. She had hope for a better day, a better Vegeta, a better tomorrow in store. Of course, every morning it wouldn't be like that. It would be filled with doubts. Filled with worries; what will she do, was everything alright, would everything be alright?

And for her body to be used as a weapon to undermine who she was was typically Vegeta. Only he would have the mind of an intellectual rapist to not only violate a woman's body but to make it feel like she wanted it in the first place, that she needed it, and lastly, deserved it.

She wanted to give a smart comeback, say cocky things, be herself. The self she was before she met Vegeta. Before when she would never have taken crap from a man, especially a man like this. Before when she wasn't willing to change herself for anyone.

But when she opened her mouth, she only proved his control over her by letting out a low moan instead of a snappy reply.

His hand on her stomach drifted down to her skirt and she felt regret in the back of her mind throb at the decision to wear one. Anticipation was the side feeling, it dripping down her thighs from her vagina, juicy and squishy (almost to an embarrassing level.) Oh, how she hated him. If she could kill him, if she had the strength, if he was a normal man and she had a knife... blood would be all over the walls. She would paint his name with his heart on his precious training room and shove it down his throat only to cut it out and shove it up his filthy ass. Hatred and love are so deeply intertwined; its scary how we can hate those we love. How we can love someone but not like who they are. How much inner feelings conflict with those we share with our loved ones.

Fingers stroked rather roughly against her panties as if trying to coax her clitoris to come out and play. They easily got past her clamped thighs, knowing that her soft muscles were no match against his obvious superior strength. Face it; he had more muscle in all those fingers than she probably had in her whole body twice over.

"You like it," he whispered, and she could almost feel his confident smile. "Admit it, Bulma. You like it. Yamcha never gave you this," he crushed her breast again. "You love it, don't you, you dirty little girl," he said those words in a low voice, tongue outlining her lobe. "Yamcha never gave you this."

"No," she dry sobbed, shaking her head, closing her eyes from the pleasure. "He didn't," she panted, in excitement and anger, turning her head to glare at Vegeta. He looked pleased he caused a reaction, shoving his fingers up her vagina, going up and down quickly. His hips bumped into her ass, and his other hand ripped off her bra, molesting both boobs.

He leaned in, resting his chin on her shoulder, calmly multi tasking as if standing in line to ride a bus or eating breakfast. Not rushed or bothered at all.

His tongue went up her neck and she shivered, biting down her lip refusing to moan. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. As good as it would feel to give in, she couldn't. She had to fight in some way. Though her flesh was weak, her mind was DEFINITELY strong enough to stand up to any man. She would show Vegeta that he was no exception to the rule just because he thought he was good in the sack.

Fingers rolled around more slowly in her vagina, sliding out and brushing against her folds and started to tickle her clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. He rubbed his cheek against her shoulder letting out a rhythmic purr, sucking comfortably on a scar on her neck as if it were a nipple. He continued to rock his hips against her lower back and he loosened up on her breasts, rubbing her stomach in smooth motions, going up every now and then to slap and tease her breasts.

And as much as it felt sooo good, the pleasure thankfully made an excuse for her sneaky smile. As his fingers went in, she quietly let out rhythmic moans. And then came the climax of the performance, just before the orgasm: "Oh Yamcha!"

This was a horrible mistake.

One that Vegeta made sure she'd pay for.

After the shock of this...this... monstrosity of a comeback, Vegeta forced her to spread further, letting out a rather inhuman roar. "I'll show you, you fucking whore," and crushed his penis into her folds, letting harsh unbalanced strokes control their fuckmaking. Even after orgasm, even with the droplets of blood decorating the floor, he wouldn't let up and she wouldn't let go of the wall or the sweet revenge of what she now recognized as jealousy in his voice. Oh but it hurt.

"I bet you were fucking him all this while," he said, sounding insane as he hissed into her ear. "Fucking him and calling out MY name, you slut, and now you have us confused." He pumped into her so hard that there now was a deep dent in the wall. "Who is superior?" Another push of the hips. "Scream it." Another thick stroke. "Scream it so they can hear." He grabbed her hair and pulled it so the back of her head was on his shoulder and she let out short gasps. "Scream it so that he can hear."

Finally he slowed down so that the motions were more wavelike in quality then the dominatrix's whip from before. The blood stopped running and she started to subside from the screams to the moderate moans. "Say it," he started to whisper, as if he were a gentle lover. His raspy voice made her shudder as she suffered an orgasm.

"Vegeta..."

"Louder."

"Vegeta," tears ran down her face as she submitted.

"I don't think the boy heard you downstairs."

It was humiliation. It was degradation in one of the worst degrees.

"Vegeta!!" her voice was so hoarse and she shook like a leaf as he took himself out of her. He merely wagged it at her as if to say I won, and don't mess with the big boys.

She sneered and he smirked, content in his victory as usual. The woman had not totally submitted yet and he voiced this concern and saw the virginic hatred in her eyes, and loved it, bathing in it. He hadn't seen hatred like that in YEARS.

He knelt down and put a hand to her face; she flinched. "There's a saying on this planet I learned recently..." he leaned in and licked her cheek, whispering in that lover voice, "All's fair in love and war..."

And then he left her sitting in the hallway, crying her eyes out. Her doomed quest to beat him was another point to Vegeta, with no victory on the home court.

-----

The baby was crying and she had to take care of it. She grasped the wall, frailer than before now that her encounter with Vegeta probably shaved off about five years from her life expectancy. "I'm coming, baby, I'm coming," she said quietly, like she was talking to herself. Well, she thought crazily, I might as well... I got what I wanted, she rethought the punishment Vegeta bestowed upon her. It was bittersweet like the blood on the carpet.

"Note to self," she said dryly, "clean that mess up." She sighed as she entered the Nursery, prepared to take on the screaming child with no avail and to lie down. She was prepared to be depressed tonight, to hold and cuddle the pillow, and to cry and contemplate suicide. She was prepared for dreams and no dreams, and dreams that will never come true. What she wasn't prepared for was Mirai Trunks holding his younger version in the rocking chair, already taking care of the problem.

She stared for a little while at this hopeful hallucination, walking as if in water to the crib expecting the baby to be there and that she really was going crazy. Maybe Vegeta did some sort of weird psychic thing with her head. Yeah...that was it.

But the baby wasn't there and Trunks was looking at her with a look of Vegeta-must've-fucked-you-up-bad. And to this, Bulma had the response of Boy-did-he.

"Trunks?" She wasn't aware of how her voice sounded tired. Only a day passed and she felt like she was a 100. So much for youth and beauty. Ah, just another day in Bulma Briefs' life.

"Yeah?" he smiled at her, rocking the kid. The smaller version of himself chose not to say anything and kept silent, possibly wondering if he should sleep or not. He caught sight of Bulma's engorged breasts and held out a hand but Mirai pushed it down, looking down at him. "ah-ah-ah, your mom's had a pretty rough night." Besides, he said in his eyes to the young thing, I want to play with them tonight first.

Out of fear and knowledge or perhaps just a short attention span, the child dared not look below Bulma's neck (at least not in front of Mirai.)

The lady smiled, sitting down on the floor and putting her head against the crib, declining the seat Mirai offered. "No, I just don't want to move for now. Let me sit here on the floor..it feels good."

"I see."

She looked away and to the carpet, feeling her whole body throb. Tears came again and rolled down freely even as she tried to dam them up. She felt soft callused thumbs over her cheeks as they wiped the unwanted trails away, resting his hands there. She looked up at Trunks and put her hand over his. "Oh, Trunks, I-"it was a tone of gratitude, of shame, of unfinished thankfulness.

"Had a fight?" The boy was pure sympathy to her, as he was throughout his whole stay. She nodded.

"Could you hear?"

"I think Satan could hear."

She laughed, bursting into more tears. Between laughs, she sputtered an "I'm sorry." She supposed she should feel ashamed and granted, she did, but for the most part, she felt better than she did a few minutes earlier. "Me," she paused, catching her breath. "Me and Vegeta, we're just," she searched for the right words and picked the clichéd common phrase, "going through some problems."

"No, no, don't be sorry." He smiles, reassuring that everything is fine and that he completely understands. But through this, Bulma feels embarrassed at the fact that her child was basically comforting her. She felt the younger Trunks grasp at her hair and discovered him to be back in his crib and felt the heartcrushing notion that she was a horrible mother. What eclipsed these fears was how she looked to Mirai... how she appeared to him. What sort of example was she setting? Oh god, what was he even thinking of her?

She wiped her face and blinked away anymore tears, knowing she looked like a rained out goth with the smeared make up and tired eyes.

Mirai put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed, still with his concerned eyes. "You know how you said you'd be there for me?" He looked upset suddenly. "you know..with my mom and..." he trailed off and before Bulma could comment, "anyways, I... I just want you to know that I'm going to do the same for you. Whatever you're thinking about," he grabbed her hand, "please tell me."

It was a long time before she looked up from his hand on hers, a long time after her heart stopped beating so violently and she could control the heat in her skin, a long time before she could talk steadily. "Thank you."

The grip tightened slightly. "You look like you need a break... say... what are you doing tonight?"

-----

His hand wavered over the wine glass, the powder suspended for five seconds as he thought.

Should he do this? He looked over to the sighing Bulma, putting her forehead into her hands, lazing about by the fire. He looked at the lascivious curves that showed like sin in that dress. And then he looked at her upset frown, the one she made whenever she was met with a problem and couldn't figure it out just yet. Adorable.

And then he looked at the bigger picture: what caused that, who owned that, who had that. Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta. And who let it all happen: Bulma.

But Trunks couldn't be angry at her for letting it happen. No, no, Vegeta obviously tricked her. Obviously he seduced Trunks' innocent love's mind, swaying her into Hell's cold embrace. Trunks grimly swished the wine glass in his hand, watching the crimson pools echo and reflect his disturbed soul. Only he could bring her back. Of course... she would be resistant at first. But that's because she was under a spell.

A spell he had to break or else, she would be lost forever. Forever giving blowjobs to a man who discarded her like trash afterwards; forever...to cry in bed alone while Trunks listened. He winced and blinked back the sudden tears when he thought of that fate. No, no, no!! He would NOT let that happen to her, and let the powder fall away from his palm to the passion in the glass.

After all ... Forever was a long time.

---

She drank for a long time. Not that he minded. He watched the liquid drain into her pink lips and licked his own, staring at the graceful neck the drops lingered down. She sighed and looked at him with dazed eyes. "God, that tastes so good..." I bet it would, he thought. He himself barely sipped his own glass and shook the glass for sophisticated appearances.

He brought it to his mouth and took a small amount of the red wine. Good year, he noticed vaguely. Fills you nicely, he thought but his gaze was on her body - her breasts more like it – and not the wine. Heavy breaths benefited the view. He would've loved to critique Bulma though for a tasting session.

"Trunks," she laughed. "This is the most wonderful night in my life," she mildly slurred, laughing more. Trunks gave a small smile. Bulma's head shook a little and she sighed, laughing more as she flopped her head into a pillow. "I wish Vegeta was as nice as you.. hell," she laughed, "I wish every guy was as nice as you! Then maybe I wouldn't be in love with...with... whashisface!" and she laughed some more.

Trunks nodded, sipping more wine. That gave him a confidence boost.

"It's just.." she sat up and crawled on the couch until she was at the end and propped her elbows on it, trying to look at Trunks straight. "I'm just so...confused." She squinted her eyes. "Ya know?"

"I know." He patiently said, enjoying her like this. Bulma smiled brightly, glad to have found someone who finally understood her.

"I mean, a young girl like me as pleeeenty of choices, right? And I have to fall in love with.. uh... can't believe I forgot his name... damn. Oh well!" Trunks gave a loud laugh at that; one minute, Vegeta's name mattered, the next didn't. Breaking the spell wouldn't be so hard after all. "It doesn't matter!" she gushed, giggling, enjoying the sudden warmness in the room. A comedian she was!

"You were saying?" Trunks smoothly said as he leaned in close. Their faces were inches apart and both smiling widely.

"I was..?.. oh yeah! I was... like I said, I'm young right?"

"Right."

"And I'm beautiful, right?"

"No question."

"And I've got a lot to offer besides big boobs and money, yeah?"

"Of course you do."

"And there are a million men out there that would appreciate me for me, right?"

"I'm one of them!" he laughed. Bulma giggled and grabbed his glass, bringing it up for a swig.

"You're so cute! Anyways, if I've got ALLL that...and I'm stuck with Mr. Whatever, who doesn't even LIKE me... what do I do?"

"You find someone who can love you, my dear..." and he put his hand on hers and rubbed it gently. She giggled, looking at him shyly as if he was making a joke and after a couple of seconds realized he wasn't laughing. She removed her hands and cleared her throat, putting one on her lap. A few seconds went by.

Predator watched the prey.

Prey wanted to escape for some unknown reason.

The drink was making them tired and horny; inside both were licking their lips, yearning for a touch. But was it so forbidden, Trunks' eyes slitted and ran over her body again. Was it so forbidden to want her on him, straddled, moaning, throwing her head back in the most exquisite pleasure she could ever feel in a lifetime?

After all, family should remain close...

"Oh...I need a drink!" she chuckled, slapping her thigh. She attempted to break the silence "Party time!"

"Yeah!" Trunks yelled playfully, handing her his glass. "Live on, and live happy."

"And fuck those who get in the way!" she drank the whole glass within thirty seconds, pausing for a moment to blink afterwards. "And...and-" she moved her hands for Trunks to help her think.

"Forget the past!" She laughed and nodded.

"Yeah! Forget them all! From now on it's just gonna be all about me, you know? Forget that guy! I don't love him! I.." she stopped and laid her head down. And was quiet for a long time. Trunks looked at her, unsure.

What was swimming in her head? What was she drowning in those blue pools of hers? A love that had barely grown? Still green in its life and still weak to not stand on its own yet. It could've been a crush, you know... it could've all been a big mistake she made. The only curse or spell would've been her foolishness to believe someone like Vegeta cared. Or maybe it was just her wanting something she couldn't have?

Tears floated, ruining her eyesight. She could only see Impressionist paintings; everything was blurred and blobby, like Monet's Water Lilies. Erupt hot sobs came out of her like she was an underwater volcano. Her fists balled up and came up to her face, trying to hide it, trying to hide the obvious ugliness she was. She wasn't attractive, she wasn't smart. She wasn't anything if Vegeta couldn't see those so called good qualities. If Vegeta didn't want her... didn't love her... who did? Who would? Who could was a more important question.

She felt arms collect her and leaned into the strong chest, gasping and sobbing harder. "I love you," she said out loud, wanting Vegeta to hear it. "I love you, I love you," she repeated like an insane person, knowing she was barely comprehensible. Even she couldn't understand her empty words. Empty. That's all they were. Empty. She could yell and scream them all she wanted, but did she really love Vegeta? Did she absolutely adore being treated like a whore every time she wanted him? Every time she was willing to LET him treat her like she was? Just so she could at least be near him and hope that this time, hey, maybe it'd be different... and he'd finally turn in Prince Charming. And they'd make LOVE, not fuck.

And it'd be a bright fantasy... where the sun shined and everything was Perfect. Laying in bed until noon, just touching and whispering and loving... that's what she truly wanted, that's what she wanted. Kisses, delights, laughing, love. Oh but most importantly LOVE.

And perhaps that's why she felt guilty as Trunks began to put his hand up her thigh, the other rubbing her back. Gentle shhhing in her ear was like ocean waves crashing into white sand. She closed her eyes and leaned in, hoping, thinking, dreaming, but actually just pretending it was Vegeta. Just Vegeta for one night. One night of being loved.

Her head felt woozy and she hiccupped every now and then letting her self be gently rocked in his arms, rubbing her cheek against his chest and kissing it.

Love, love... what we do for love. What we all do for love. We'd die for it, we'd live for it... kill for it.. You've heard these typical sentences before, all cliché and heard of before. But would you betray for it? Would you pretend for it? For a brief feeling of being accepted, feeling adored, all for an obsession that wouldn't go away?

Bulma knew she would. And dipped her head back when Trunks' lips touched hers eagerly. Lips that met and greeted each other like children, innocent and pleading, asking for candy. When one tongue slipped in, the other slipped out and soon they lost memory of who touched first and where.

She picked up her legs and let him wrap them around her, also granting permission for him to lustfully bump his groin into hers. Their lips never parted, not for oxygen or the end of the world that would undoubtedly come if anyone knew of this. If anyone suspected of this sin that was already condemning both to Hell.

What am I doing? Was supposed to be what was running through their heads, at least Bulma's. But thoughts also escaped them in this passionate tryst. For let it be just one night. One night of love, harmony. One night of chaos and rhapsody. One night where music was being made by the sound of two naked bodies slapping against each other, the notes of flesh decorated with a symphony of moans. Let it be for one night...they both experience pleasure and pain. Pleasure at being loved, finally, after all this time... pain that it would be the first and last time.

His lips touched hers and he let out something, somewords. "I love you." Dangerous, fleeting, he wondered if she'd notice. And she did, moving back and looking at him with drunk eyes.

"Then show me."

---

Vegeta. It was on her mind. Vegeta. Through blue eyes, she saw Vegeta. And only him. As she kissed and squeezed, moaned and groaned, it was the obsession that burned through her veins and mind. Vegeta. His face. His smirk. His arms crossed, looking down at you.

His eyes.

She opened her mouth and let Trunks in. No, it isn't Trunks. It's Vegeta. Once she closed her eyes, it felt like him... it smelled like him... and if it walks and talks like a duck, then it is a duck. And he was Vegeta.

"Let's dance," she smiled silkily, licking his cheek. Vegeta smiled and picked her up, gently pushing her body against his. Muscle against fat, it was an erotic move. "There's no music," Bulma said, as if suddenly noticing.

"Of course there is," Vegeta said in his husky voice into her ear. He let out a soothing shhhh, as he rocked their bodies like an ocean sway. "You hear that?" he rasped.

She closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder. There was nothing at first. Only crackling of fire and their clothes rustling with the occasional heavy breathing. And then she heard it. In the distance there was a party of some sort... high class, trendy, chic.. who cared.. but the music was there and their hips perfectly matched the distant rhythm. She could feel him smiling into her hair and nuzzled her cheek into his chest, proud that his erection that was poking her in the stomach was her doing and only hers.

I own his heart now, she smirked. I own that cape of hearts with my very own crown.

"I've always loved you," Vegeta admitted. Oh! Bulma was in heaven. She laughed lightly, nodding with her eyes closed.

"Keep talking.."

He let out a short laugh, hands going down her back to feel her ass. He sucked on her earlobe, letting out a smack and whispered, "Always."

"You're doing great here.." She almost opened her eyes but something told her not to. No, a little voice in her hissed. Let the dream last longer. Let it.

"I want you." Words. Simple and inviting. And true. She believed them almost immediately and was happy her eyes were closed. Tears would've streamed down otherwise.

"Really?" she slurred, still drunk.

"Is there a doubt?" He kissed her cheek, still moving his hips to her.

They continued to dance to the almost undetectable music. The party had ended but the tune was still there, in a little girl's room. She danced with her mother's dress on, dreaming of the day she would join parties like that. The innocence would stay fresh for a couple of years before her eyes would be opened and she would yearn for yesteryears. Like they say, the grass is greener on the other side.

Vegeta dipped her, and Bulma could feel his admiration of her body, and she suddenly felt proud and mighty to have power. To be a woman. She felt it in every sense of the word, in every bone and nerve of her body just how woman she was. Seduction and sexuality dripped like honey from her soul and it felt good. It felt damn good.

His hands moved to her front after he pulled her up and he touched her down there, hand moving under the dress, prying the restrictive underwear from where both wanted him to go. Somehow, between that and her clothes getting lost (the details were so fuzzy and Vegeta was so anxious!) Bulma wondered how they ended in the bedroom.

"You're fast," she laughed, kicking her legs up enjoying being carried.

"Mmm," he leaned down and kissed her, smiling. Her eyes remained on his lips, her mind not daring to go further up. It was strange to see Vegeta smile, she noticed, grinning away like crazy. But it was a good strange. It was like a happy ending kind of Twilight Zone. He kicked open her door lightly, jogging in, openly showing how much he enjoyed holding her.

She held on stronger, her nude body rubbing against his in the process and he immediately put her on the bed, trying to unfasten his pants.

And of course, whenever the times call for it, like this sexual affair, his zipper got stuck and his belt wouldn't loosen fast enough. Bulma looked down, not bothering with his face, awaiting for something great to happen once his pants were open.

Vegeta on the other hand was muttering dirty curses to the makers of the pants. When they were finally off, the heat visibly went up and he nearly tore off his shirt getting in off. He parted Bulma's legs, looking down at her. Bulma's eyes were still on his crotch, smiling. At the moment, she didn't need a face. She felt him put his head into the crook of her neck and his hair brush her cheek, and eagerly wrapped her arms around him. 'Vegeta,' she moaned in her head. "Yesss..." and then he pumped in.

Sex is nice... that's what everyone keeps hearing. It's magical, beautiful...rough, dirty... fantastic and without words. Often we try to describe it. We try to explain the feelings but end up just making sounds instead of adjectives. But you just can't help it.. you just can't help being speechless when you feel something in you (literally) and it fits so right. Better than before. Like the first time you've been touched down there. The first time you've ever been went down on and the tongue expertly circles around the clit, actually writing a love letter to you with muscle, with prose and sonnets, knowing you're hearing every word one way or another.

It's like that. Sex is like the first time. Exciting. New. Unimaginable. Scary. Wonderous. First steps like you're a baby again. First day of kindergarten. First time you look to your left and the boy you've hated turns into your crush. Your first everything in a whirl of emotions that you can't handle. Sex was like that. Sex is muscle, sex is fat, sex is everything at the moment. Take it or leave it, now or never, the sex was like that between Vegeta and Bulma.

But at the same time...it wasn't. It wasn't those things. It was deep and spiritual. It was something each other knew. It had a wisdom to it like sex often does.

And even then... it was dirty... wild. You wouldn't think anything beautiful like wisdom was associated with the sort of animal acts that happened then. Tearing, grabbing, smacking, pumping...

And then it'd change all over again into a whole nother meaning.

Sex is like that. Sex has no emotional definition except this: I came. I saw. I conquered.

And this was how it was for both parties. Both thought they conquered each other, both thought the other was weak to their charms, and both were madly in fuck right now.

And that's when it changed. That's when the fatal mistake occurred that set this whole story into motion. That brings it into denial, frustration, and anger. That takes it to the cloak of obsession and dark love. Where the narrative no longer becomes idle and cheery, and takes a turn for a worst.

"Vegeta!" she screamed, moaning languidly. Vegeta's body froze, his body suddenly tense. She wondered if this was a teasing act.

"Vegeta," she whined, touching his nipple and he flinched, grabbing her hand and putting it to the bed.

"I'm not Vegeta." He said stonily, tone changing from the loving, laughing Vegeta that she was only beginning to see.

"..What..?" she tried to laugh convinced he was fooling to her. Her body still ached with the clutches of an orgasm, still so close yet still so far away. She brought it up, thinking he might knock it off and get back to work but his hand was still enclosed around her wrist. Through the aches, she felt the searing pain at the Saiya-jin grip. He wasn't being gentle with her anymore...but why? "Come on, Vegeta," she shot. "Stop playing around." A hand went around her throat and she gasped breaths and words gurgling immediately.

"I'm not...Vegeta.." Vegeta gritted out, grinding his teeth, positioning himself in front of her.

"Ve-" she didn't understand. What was he doing. He let go of her throat and held her other wrist down, leaning in. "Do I look like Vegeta?" he spat and started to roughly insert himself into her, making sure she was feeling pain and he was only feeling pleasure the Saiya-jin way. The natural way. The vengeful way. "Does this feel like Vegeta?"

And that's when she saw Trunks between her legs instead of Vegeta and screamed as he rocked his hips harder and harder into hers, his mouth covering hers to mute the screams. All the while through the night as he went in and out of her, turning her around and using her like a whore, that's what he kept saying. "I'm not Vegeta, I'm not Vegeta," he said to himself over and over as he let himself come in her, only to turn her over a different way to use her in the same fashion.

"I'm not Vegeta," he thundered as his nails went in deep into her sides and breasts and he bit her on her neck, gnawing at the loose skin. The sheets became soaked with blood and tears but both parties didn't care... for different reasons.

Through this, in the shadows only one saw.

And only one turned away from the sight, walking and disappearing into the night.

"I'm not Vegeta," he sobbed as he let go, panting at her side as both fell to sleep. "I'm not him...I'm not him.."