A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON © 2003 Darke Angelus
Chapter Two ~ PASSION and PRIDE
... it had all been a dream ...
Jerking awake with a gasp, Bulma sat straight up in her bed. She cast the room a frantic glance, seeing only indistinguishable shapes in the murky darkness of pre-dawn. She... she was back in her room at Capsule Corporation. Everything had just been a dream: Vegeta's 'proposal', the months before the wedding, and finally the wedding itself. None of it had ever happened-
"N-no," she whimpered. Groping round blindly in the dark, her panicked fingers hit the lamp on the nightstand and knocked it over with a heavy thump.
There was a low grumble directly beside her and she jerked away with a tiny yelp of shock. It took some time for her mind to shake the after affects of her dream (screw that- NIGHTMARE!) and when she righted the lamp and turned it on, she was relieved to see that she was right where she was supposed to be: the honeymoon suite of the Majestic Regency Hotel. And she wasn't alone.
Lying on his right side facing her, Vegeta slumbered on, oblivious to her little bout of panic. Half of his face was buried into the pillow and his left hand was lying loosely near his chin. The sight of that wedding band on his finger dissuaded the last of any residual doubt and Bulma finally settled back down.
I love him so much, Bulma thought, snuggling close against Vegeta's warm body and letting her teasing fingers trail lazy circles over the smooth tanned skin at his side. Her touch eventually reached his slender hip and frolicked there for a timeless moment while she deliberated whether to wake him from his sound sleep or to remain cuddled warmly next to him.
She brought her lips forward and lightly kissed his smooth brow and brushed an errant strand of hair back from his forehead with a delicate finger. It was mystifying the intensity of emotions that he evoked in her. Her extended relationship with Yamcha had its up and downs but nothing to equal the passions that Vegeta effortlessly stirred. Her breathing began to speed up despite her mind telling her to remain calm next to him, to let him rest after his hectic pace of the night before.
Her breasts tingled with hedonistic expectation when he suddenly stirred, burrowing his head further into her soft bosom. She could feel his breathing on her sensitive aureolas, puckering them erect with trembling anticipation. Her fully awake and yearning womanhood throbbed out a primitive message to her whirling brain, clamoring incessantly at the closeness of this naked man beside her. Following the summons from her fiery center, she let her gentle fingers travel to the wide base of his shaft, finally gripping the delightful hanging member, hefting the smooth length in her small palm with almost ceremonial rite.
Vegeta came awake slowly, adjusting his fuzzy mind to the pleasurable warmth of her body next to his and the slow, sensual stroking of his rod. He inhaled her heady scent as he moved further into the soft, yielding flesh of her bosom.
"Uhmm... Ready for more already?" he murmured, bringing a hand to a weighty breast and directing the hard little nipple into his mouth.
"Only if you're up for it," she giggled; glad he was awake and feeling life surge into his powerful tool. "How did you sleep?"
"Fine." He moved his hand to her thigh then back up to her hip and over her smooth, taut belly. He let his fingers dally in the furry pelt at the apex of her womanhood, feeling her pouting softness warm to his gentle touch. Bulma spread her legs in delight at the feel of his teasing fingers, letting him arouse her desire to a fever pitch as he suckled at her breasts with tender lips.
"And just what you intend to do with this big thing?" she asked cutely, trying to keep her voice steady as she squeezed and stroked his now-hard member.
"I'll show you what I'm going to do with it!" he growled playfully, rolling her onto her back and lying between her wide, welcoming thighs. He marveled at the sight of her flushed, excited features as he held himself up by his elbows and admired her softly contoured breasts. "What a sight to wake up to," he murmured, plucking a ripe nipple into his mouth and laving the erect nub with his tongue for a brief moment, then doing the other in the same fashion; mouthing it softly between his lips as he whipped it to a growing hotness.
"Oh God, I'm ready," she breathed, placing her hands at his sides and urging him forward.
"Impatient, aren't you? I haven't even kissed you good morning yet," he smirked.
She darted her tongue urgently across her lips and prepared to meet his mouth with an eager passion. Instead of moving forward, Vegeta continued to smile down at her, not moving, looking into her expectant eyes for long seconds. Instead of meeting her mouth in lustful union, he suddenly pulled up her knees and held them firmly against her breasts. The act left her wide open to his greedy, hungry eyes and he studied her glistening pink labia with solemn authority.
"Vegeta!" Bulma gasped incredulously, her suddenly exposed clitoris throbbing wildly in this vulnerable position. With a sound like a chuckle, he was full on her in a frightful, unexpected rush- pressing his face hard against her flaming center.
"Oh my God!" she wailed, feeling his lips capture her hard clit and stabbing it with a rapid frenzy with his stiff tongue. She squirmed wildly for more, moving and twisting in erotic rapture. He nuzzled hard against her quivering nub, knocking it from side to side, and then darted his hot tongue deep into her moist folds.
Vegeta mouthed her for a few moments longer, then reared back on his knees and made an elaborate show of dragging his forearm across his mouth. "There! Now that," he boasted, "is a Saiyan's idea of a morning kiss!"
"Ohhh... Wow," she panted wonderingly. "You can kiss me like that every morning!"
"I just might," he said in a smug voice as he mounted her. Nudging the broad head of his erection against the pouting lips of her entrance, he began sliding the tip up and down the heavenly slit, deliberately teasing her. She dug her fingernails into his back in response and he continued to move slowly over her. Easing in just the knob of his manhood, he cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look directly up into his eyes. "Do you want it?"
"Of course I want it," she panted. "I want all of you inside me. As much as you can give."
It was what he wanted to hear. He lowered his head and kissed her, darting his tongue between her moist lips as he slid his member all the way into her quivering furnace with one, unending stroke. Slowly, relishing each minute ripple of her velvet sheath, he began to piston in and out of that tight warmth. This was against all the dictates of his unique breeding; to be gentle, to take his time, to actually care for another's pleasure before his own. Before Bulma, he never would have bothered about anything, save his own quick release. More times than not, he wouldn't have even bothered to learn his conquest's name. So many things had changed over the years and perhaps not all of them, as he so liked to brood about, were for the worst. The time he spent with Bulma had served to make him a better lover.
Teasingly, he pulled out so that only the tip was concealed in the throbbing furrow, then, with a guttural groan, he plunged in again deeply. He moved in and out of her, increasing his tempo as he went, and Bulma began to swing her pelvis back and forth in perfect rhythm to his strokes. Moaning in pleasure, she pulled her legs up and wrapped then around his back, eager to give him complete access to her clutching channel. Lost in waves of exultant lust, she didn't notice his reaction when the heel of her left foot connected with his tail scar. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she moaned her way the exquisite shudders of pleasure of a tender climax.
The instant he felt that rough contact on his tender flesh, Vegeta released a pained snarl and dug his fingers deep into the mattress. If he had been holding her at the time, his reflex reaction would probably have severely injured her. The old wound always bothered him, some days were worse than others. He had thought that he was finally over the worst of it until their joyride on that pink, two-wheeled monstrosity the day before. He had felt every single bump and pothole concentrated in that inch-wide scar at the base of his spine.
Fortunately, the blaze of agony was brief and Bulma never noticed the slight pause in his technique and he was plunging into her again, faster than ever. A light sheen of perspiration clung to his olive-colored skin and his entire body glistened in the soft glow of the lamp's light. Every muscle moved with precision, his body tense and alive with excitement as he pumped his hips back and forth. Bulma's body was thrilled with wave upon wave of undulating ecstasy and she moaned in utter delight, responding perfectly to his every lunging stroke. She stared lovingly into his dark, slanted eyes, captivated to have this muscular, powerful body all to herself. She grabbed a handful of his thick hair and pulled his face down to give him a deep, hungry kiss as her hands eagerly kneaded the knotted muscles of his broad back and shoulders.
Gazing deeply into the dazzling pools of his wife's glittering blue eyes, Vegeta was stunned to see the trust and love that radiated from that innocent gaze. No one had ever looked at him like that before. He knew fear, and recognized lust when he saw it but not emotions like these- Trust. Love. He never figured that he'd ever be the recipient.
I think that my lifetime of shitty luck has finally run its course, he thought. Only a lucky man could be in my place right now.
Bulma's eyes widened in surprise and he knew that she had caught the stray thought. When their bodies were joined this closely together it wasn't uncommon for their minds to open up. Usually, he kept his thoughts carefully guarded and only betrayed the odd word or image. This was a rare admission for her to catch. Still, he didn't regret the lapse; far from it.
-Remember what you heard, mri Bulma-tik'o, he told her honestly. When we're finished, I'll be back to my old, prickish self. He chuckled against the soft flesh of her neck while she marveled over what he had confessed in his rare thought.
-I love you so much! she projected with her mind as hard as she could, hoping that he would be receptive to it. Almost immediately, she heard him chuckle again and felt his lips against her cheek as he whispered, "I know."
It was enough to propel her over the brink. Clutching at his bulging muscles, she was rocked with pulsing hot passion and her fiery center blazed with orgasmic release. "OOHHH!" she shrieked, thrashing madly beneath him. "Oh- GOD! That's IT! YESSS!!"
Watching her climax, he knew that even if he stopped his frantic stroking he would come. Nothing would prevent the escape of the hot semen that had been building in his balls since the moment her hand had touched him. His orgasm was almost painful in its intensity, and he felt Bulma's body jerk with each spurt of his seed into her spasming womanhood. The sensation was overwhelming and he arched his back and released a roar of savage accomplishment that was echoed by Bulma's shrill peals of pleasure.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of rapturous bliss, their passion passed its peak. The intensity of their lovemaking diminished until finally, Vegeta lay exhausted, sprawled on top of Bulma's voluptuous body. For a long moment, there was only the sound of their rapid breathing until, with a groan, he rolled off of her and stared at the ceiling with heavy eyes. "I know just the perfect thing that would compliment this moment," he murmured lazily.
She raised her head and stared at him. "You do? What is it?" she asked eagerly.
"A great big steak. Why don't you go order up some room service?"
She should have known.
The Majestic Regency was known worldwide for its spectacular seaside panoramic perspective, but the only view that the newlyweds were interested in were for each other. Vegeta and Bulma spent the entire day frolicking nude around the suite and dividing their hours up between intermittent bouts of eating, catching naps, and screwing their mutual brains out. Both were insatiable with their desire for one another and it wasn't until early evening when Bulma finally had the wits to call home and talk to her mother.
"Finally!" her mother screeched into the receiver. "Do you realize that I've been constantly trying to call you ever since you left yesterday?"
"Sorry, mom. I forgot that my phone was turned off," Bulma lied smoothly as she laid back in the recliner and drank some champagne from one fluted crystal glass. She was currently sporting a nice mellow buzz from the bubbly liquid and nothing, not even her harried mother, could upset her present contentment. Opposite her, sprawled on the couch, Vegeta was snoring away with that endearing purr-like quality of his. In his present insensate state, she could use him as a footstool and he wouldn't stir: A combination of exhaustion and the result of downing two full bottles of champagne. It was such a rare sight to see him in a relaxed state that Bulma found that she couldn't take her eyes off of him for longer than a minute.
"Um mm, a likely story," her mother responded but, fortunately, that was about as long as she stayed miffed. "So tell me everything! How was your drive? What did you see? Where is that handsome son-in-law of mine?"
Bulma burst out laughing at the endearing reference and Vegeta muttered something in his sleep, shifted position, and came precariously close to falling off of the narrow sofa. Positioning her foot against his bare hip, she pushed him back from the edge and this time he rolled over in the opposite direction without waking up. She almost started braying laughter again at the sight. "He's right here, just catching up on some sleep."
"But Bulma, it's barely six o'clock. Isn't that a little early- ... oooh. OH! I get it," the blonde tittered like a pre-school girl who had just heard her first naughty word. "You two have been... busy."
"That's one word for it," Bulma said smugly. "How're Trunks and dad?"
There was a frustrated exhale of breath on the other end and Bulma knew that her mother wanted to hear all of the juicy details and didn't appreciate the change of topic. "Trunks is adorable as ever but he misses you and Vegeta terribly. He's started this annoying habit of biting people. Why, just this afternoon he bit your father on the ankle and now he won't stop chasing after the cat!"
"He's just testing you. When he does something wrong, just do what Vegeta does; take him by the scruff of the neck and give him a firm shake."
"Bulma! He's not a pet!"
"I know that mom, but just telling him 'no' won't work. He's half-Saiyan and needs discipline to control those aggressive tendencies. You're going to have to make him mind."
Bulma knew that she might as well have tried reasoning with the wall. Too gentle to even swat at a fly, her mother would never raise her voice in protest against Trunks' actions, let alone attempt to discipline him. "We'll get along fine until you come home, dear," the blond said and her daughter had to submerge a groan. In two weeks time, Trunks would be completely spoiled rotten by his grandparents and impossible to manage. She and Vegeta were going to have their hands full when they got back. It was fortunate that the Saiyan didn't mind playing the villain when it came to laying down the law (after all, it came so naturally to him), allowing Bulma to console the boy and remain the hero. It was surprising how their varied views on parenting actually stitched together: Vegeta left the mothering to her, and Bulma let him be the disciplinarian. It was enough of a shared balance to create an environment where Trunks' unique heritage could thrive.
Unfortunately, no one else seemed to understand that. "Mother..." Bulma sighed, feeling her pleasant buzz beginning to slide. "Just do your best with him, okay?" she said in surrender, not wanting a fight with her vacuous, well-intentioned mother to ruin her mood. To get the woman off- topic, Bulma told her about the previous day's problems with traffic and having to travel on Daisy. Mrs. Briefs laughed so hard that Bulma had to hold the receiver away from her ear but it left the woman in high spirits when she was finally able to hang up. Right after that, she shut off her phone again. Just in case.
Refilling her glass in an attempt to reclaim her buzz, Bulma fetched her laptop and began charting their next destination as she calibrated the Dragonball radar. The next one nearest them was somewhere in the Caribbean and, after confirming the latitude and longitude coordinates, her brow furrowed in worry. It was hard to settle old superstitions, especially on a planet with so many conflicting myths and fantasies running around. This place in particular had a dubious reputation.
Then again, she thought as her eyes fell on the slumbering alien on the couch, so did he. With Vegeta by her side there was nothing on Earth that could come close to harming her. That knowledge offered her comfort and served to relax her. Smiling, she went back to scanning her computer for some nearby tourist attractions that they might want to see (well, let's be honest here... attractions that SHE would want to see and would have to drag Vegeta along for the ride). A couple of hours north would take them into the Arid Wastes; a desert of sagebrush and barren rock formations where Vegeta had faced off against Gokou in their first confrontation. For some reason, Bulma found herself dwelling over the name as her finger tapped idly on the arm of the recliner. Tourists flocked to the site year around and the fissures and blast holes also attracted film crews. Why did that all sound so familiar to her? The explanation was on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't quite grasp it. After a few frustrating moments, she finally gave up and forced herself to search through her luggage for her lost capsule packet.
Dimly, as if his ears were stuffed with cotton, Vegeta pulled slowly out of his heavy doze to the sounds of luggage being unpacked, rifled through, and then encapsulated again. The sound was irritating and he tried to block out Bulma's frustrated cursing by wrapping his arm around one side of his head while forcing the other side deeper into the pillow. He was in, what Bulma had affectionately labeled as, his 'Badman' mode; he had gotten laid, his stomach was full, he was half in the bag, and all he wanted to do was get some uninterrupted sleep. He'd never admit it aloud, even under the threat of torture, but the truth was that Bulma was literally wearing him out with her voracious sex drive. He never would have believed it was even possible before today.
Slip a gaudy piece of jewelry on the woman's finger and she turns into a succubus, he thought and betrayed a faint smile. He absently wondered how Krillin and Android 18's honeymoon would turn out (if it ever happened, the pair hadn't even set a wedding date yet) and figured that the little runt better pack a body bag for himself. He released a snort at the mental picture of them together. And people that that he and Bulma were an odd pair-?!
There was an excited shout of, "I found it!" from the bedroom and Bulma rushed into the living room and stood beside the couch. "Are you still asleep?"
"Yes."
"Too bad," she said and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist as if he were Daisy. He half expected her to scream out 'Giddy-up' but instead she held up her capsule packet. "I found my spare capsules. It figures that it was in the last bag I checked. Now we don't have to drive around on that moped anymore."
Pulling his arm away, he looked up and was greeted to the sight of a very naked Bulma leaning over him. He laced his fingers behind his head and appreciated the view of her perfect breasts as he yawned, "If you hadn't found it, we could have just stolen a car. No big deal."
She thought he was joking at first, and then she considered the source. "We couldn't do something like that."
"Why not? It'd be fun."
That certainly wasn't a word that came up in his vocabulary very often. She looked at him carefully and was surprised to see him staring up at her with a crafty expression on his face. "You've done it before, haven't you?" she realized.
His faint smile broadened.
"Ohmigod, you have!"
"Not on Earth," he told her. "Not for a long time. Nappa, Radditz, and I were occasionally assigned scouting or reconnaissance missions instead of the usual purgings. The inactivity used to drive us crazy with boredom."
"So you stole cars?"
"Well, not just any cars- if that was what you could even call them. The vehicles varied from planet to planet. But they were always owned by the local law enforcement. That was the whole point. We were allowed to battle if we were threatened by an authority figure. That usually happened after a couple of hours of joyriding. By then, they'd start shooting at us so we were allowed to retaliate."
She knew what that meant. "How old were you?"
"Early teens."
She burst out laughing. "You juvenile delinquent!" she howled, punching his shoulder playfully. It should have bothered her that he had used such antics as justification for killing people but the admission was just so unexpected that it caught her off guard.
"I don't see what's so funny," he mumbled, self-consciously crossing his arms.
"Don't you get it? This is what this whole trip is about. I hardly know anything about your life before you came to Earth. Now I know that you stole cars when you were a kid- It makes you more human in my eyes."
"Whatever floats your boat. Do you want to do it or not?"
"NO!"
"Bah, you're no fun," he pouted, closing his eyes and pretending to fall back asleep.
"I'm not, huh?" Bulma stayed where she was and began to rock her hips back and forth along his hard stomach. Vegeta tried to ignore her but he was betrayed by another part of his anatomy that was eagerly responding to the close proximity of her womanhood.
When he felt her hand guide him into her tight entrance, he mumbled out, "Wake me when you're done."
She had to laugh, even as she eased herself down on that exquisite length until he was completely imbedded within her. Deliberately, she began to flex her inner thighs and internal muscles around his rod as her body remained perfectly still. She had been practicing her Kegel exercises during their three weeks apart as a treat for their honeymoon. Now, Vegeta's eyes snapped open as he felt her inner palpitations; squeezing, letting go, squeezing harder-
"What the hell-?" his voice actually broke in surprise.
"I thought you'd like it," she purred, raking her fingernails lightly across his hard chest. She started adding a counter-clockwise motion to her hips while her sex muscles continued their loving contractions. Underneath of her, Vegeta grappled for control before he came too soon but he was fighting a losing battle and they both knew it. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her hips and began thrusting up into her with little grunts of effort. His fingers dug into her tender flesh with almost painful force but Bulma was too distracted too notice as she writhed atop of him, working her hips around his member with savage gyrations.
Never in her life had she ever felt so free with her sexuality. It thrilled her to know that Vegeta would be receptive to just about any whispered suggestion she brought into their relationship, and more than prepared to add a few suggestions of his own. She knew that he'd had more than his share of liaisons in his past, experiencing all manner of positions and perversions. It had served to have gotten it all out of his system and he was finally ready to settle down, willing to share his knowledge only with her. All that Bulma really knew about sex were from romance novels, magazines, and her disappointing on-again-off-again romance with-
"Yamcha!" she cried out, just as Vegeta was about to climax.
With a livid curse, he pushed her off of him and she fell backwards into the arm of the sofa, dazed and shocked. "Wha- Vegeta?"
"You're screwing me and you're thinking about him?!" he bellowed, eyeing her in disbelief.
"I just remembered something that I was thinking about earlier-"
"Shut up! I told you never to say that fucker's name while we were together!"
"It was an accident!" she said sincerely, knowing that the mere mention of her past lover was always guaranteed to enrage the Saiyan and she had spoken his name at possibly the worst moment imaginable. "He's got a part in a movie that being filmed in the Arid Wastes and that's only a few hours away from here. I was wondering why the name of the place sounded so familiar-"
Shaking his head, Vegeta leapt from the sofa and stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Giving chase she heard him lock the door and, following that, heard the shower come on. "Vegeta!" she yelled, bringing a fist down on the door. "Talk to me, dammit! Don't shut me out." She could imagine him standing under the spray, scrubbing off the scent of her, and purposely ignoring her impassioned pleas.
I hurt him, she realized with genuine dismay. He knows that I once loved Yamcha with all of my heart and soul and wonders to this day if I still privately yearn for him. I did more than just hurt him, I wounded his pride.
"Vegeta, I'm sorry!" she pleaded when she heard the shower shut off. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob to try pulling on it and was relieved to hear it become unlocked. Vegeta stepped out, rubbing a towel back and forth through his thick hair. He sidestepped her and went directly into the bedroom to start getting dressed.
Bulma understood that he was getting ready to leave. "Shit, Vegeta! I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to say?"
Pulling on a shirt, he directed one of his cold gazes in her direction and she sucked in breath at the amount of hatred that she saw in those raven depths. "Goodbye," he said as his answer and pulled the ring off of his finger and threw it on the bed.
In a rare moment as she was lost for words, Bulma watched him finish dressing and then turn to the balcony in preparation to fly away. With as calm a voice as she could manage, Bulma said levelly, "Run away if you have to. It's one of the things you do best."
He came to a halt as if he had run into a wall. The muscles across his shoulders and back rippled beneath the material of his shirt as he tensened up in preparation for a fight. "I've never run away from a battle in my entire life," he told her with a low snarl.
"This isn't a battle, it's a relationship," she reasoned. "That's something you have no experience in dealing with. Need I remind you that you swore to an oath? How easily it is for you to throw that promise aside when it suits you!"
He turned around slowly and glared at her. "You call out the name of your ex-lover while we're having sex and you have the gall to make me the scoundrel?"
"I said I was sorry and I meant it," she said in that same measured, level voice. If she lost her temper now and started shouting at him, he would bolt for sure. She had been in the wrong and she knew it, she had to try and find some way to repair the damage.
It was clear that he had been expecting some manner of frenzied tirade instead of this calm approach. A muscle jumped in the angle of his jawline as he looked to the escape that the balcony offered and back to Bulma. Finally, his eyes settled on a neutral sight and he glowered at the far wall, crossing his arms and visibly at a loss in which direction to go.
"I've told you before that Yamcha wasn't that great in bed," Bulma told him. "I was just thinking about how experienced you are when his name just popped into my head."
He released a sour snort. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's not for the reason you think. I never told Yamcha about our engagement. At the hospital while Chi Chi was in labor, do you know what he said about you? He said that you'd never marry me- That you didn't care for me as much as he did. And never would."
Vegeta's mouth twitched in response to her words but that was about it. She decided to press on, "Think about his reaction if we paid him a surprise visit and told him the news together."
There was a scheming look on her face that he immediately recognized. The only difference was that it wasn't his reflection. "You malicious wench," he said in a surprised tone. "Are you actually suggesting what I think you are?"
"He broke us up, got you fired, beat you up, almost got you killed when he led that doctor back to you in Ivory City. It's about time that we finally put him in his place once and for all."
Vegeta understood that Bulma was talking about revenge, something that definitely appealed to his twisted nature. His finger casually tapped his bicep while he considered the idea; it was actually quite brilliant and didn't even involve any combat. He could clearly picture the expression on the idiot's face as they groped one another right in front of him. A gratified smirk threatened to pull up the corner of his mouth but he quenched it as he leveled his gaze at her, "It should bother me that you want to visit your idiot ex-lover on our honeymoon."
"It's a pretty good opportunity, don't you think?"
"Hnh," he grunted, still considering the idea. She decided to walk over to him and was grateful when he didn't pull away from her.
"I've opened my mind to you, Vegeta. You know that you're the only man for me," she told him, caressing his cheek. "You're a prince, you're powerful, and you're fantastic in bed. No human male can compare to any of that! Nobody else can even come close to how much I love you."
The Saiyan was always vulnerable to a little well-placed ego stroking and this moment was no different. Bulma was relieved when the tension in his shoulders finally eased and he dropped his arms to allow her to cuddle in closer. Her arms wrapped tenderly around his waist and she looked into his eyes and whispered, "This was our first serious fight as a married couple. Do you know what that means?"
He looked at her a little warily. "...No."
"Make-up sex," she said with a smile and kissed him.
Two hours later, Vegeta was sleeping again and this time Bulma decided that she would let him get the rest that he needed. She was starting to get a little weary herself and more than a little sore in all of the wrong places. She drew a bath for herself and slid gratefully into the blissful depths of the whirlpool tub, smiling in contentment. Things had been tense a short while ago but their love for one another had finally won out. Bulma knew that there was nothing else that could place their union in jeopardy with this last hurdle behind them.
Relaxing in the hot water, Bulma thought craftily, Tomorrow, Yamcha, you are going to get the shock of your life.
"CUT!" the director yelled and rubbed his aching temple. "Who the hell ever said that this bozo could act?" he muttered to his assistant.
"You know darn well who," she reminded him in a cautious voice.
"Thanks for reminding me," he said peevishly and jumped off of his chair and walked around the cameras onto the elaborate set. It was early morning in the 'Wastes and the film crew and actors were taking advantage of the coolness of the desert before the sun could climb and make the heat unbearable. A small shanty village had been built at the base of one gigantic mesa while nearby, brooding spires of harsh rock poked out of the arid dirt like the ribs of some long dead prehistoric giant. It was the perfect setting for a post-nuclear holocaust film called "Land of Yesterday" where the hero of a primitive tribe searched the desert for ancient weapons to defeat an evil warlord.
It was strictly a "B" movie with a limited budget and the director was cutting any corners that he could. It hadn't mattered (at least not at first) that one of the film's extras couldn't act worth a damn; he displayed some rather fantastic powers that served to cut down on the budget allocated for pyrotechnics. If the director had had his way, the guy would have just been stuck on sidelines until they needed an explosion, but he was currently the leading lady's boytoy. The actress was fronting a significant amount of her own money to finance what she hoped would be her comeback to Hollywood. She had promised her lover a part and by damned, he was going to get a part! Not even the director was brave enough to butt heads with that Amazon bitch.
"Yamcha," the man said as he stepped up to the fighter. "It's really very simple. All you have to do is shield your eyes like you're scanning the horizon and shout out; 'There's dust on the horizon! The attackers are coming to the village!' Got it?"
"Sorry Mitch," Yamcha said humbly. He was dressed only in a loincloth and tattered leather boots and his muscles flexed nervously under a layer of sweat brought on by the rising humidity. He hadn't been allowed to shave for the part and several days' stubble coated his lower jaw. Adding his unruly hair to the look and Mitch figured that the guy was definitely handsome- he just couldn't frigging act! "I'll get it right this time, I promise."
"Uh huh," Mitch said unconvincingly as he wandered back to his seat. "That's what you've said for the last eleven takes," he mumbled under his breath.
"Scene forty-seven, take twelve," one crew hand shouted.
"Awright people, we're wasting morning light," the director called out. "Action!"
Stepping out from behind one ripped tent flap, Yamcha (listed in the credits as Expendable Tribesman Three) walked a short distance to the edge of the camp and scouted the horizon, his face drawn and serious. Raising one hand to shield his eyes, his face assumed an expression of curiosity and then fear. "Oh no!" he shouted out, "There's rust on the horiz-"
"CUT!" Mitch bawled out and took his face in his hands.
"Did I say rust? Heh, sorry about that," Yamcha chuckled, scratching the back of his neck with an absent hand.
"Scene forty-seven, take thirteen," the crewmember called out.
Mitch sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable. "Action," he muttered, quickly losing his enthusiasm.
Emerging again from the ruined tent, Yamcha walked to the edge of the camp and scanned the desert. "Oh no!" he shouted out, pointing to the east. "There's dust on the horizon! The villagers are attacking!"
"CUT!" Mitch screamed. "That's not the friggin' line! It's 'The attackers are coming to the village!' How much trouble is that to remember?!"
"I can't concentrate! This stupid loincloth is making me itchy!" Yamcha groused back, adjusting his crotch.
"This is going to look great on the blooper reel," Mitch's assistant giggled.
"Shut up, Penny," he snapped back, fixing her with a sour look. "Where the hell is our 'Village Priestess' anyway? Maybe she can talk some sense into lover-boy here."
"Still getting 'into the role' in her trailer," Penny told him. "You know the rules; don't disturb her while she gets into character. She'll be here soon enough."
Rolling his eyes, Mitch nodded to the crew hand who immediately called out, "Scene forty-seven, take fourteen."
Gripping the armrests of his chair, Mitch Jerkins said, "Action!"
Knowing that this was possibly his last chance, Yamcha left the tent for what he prayed would be the last time and walked over the edge of the camp. He held a hand over his eyes as he looked around and then called out, "There's dust on the horizon! The attackers are approaching the village!" he backed up and ran into the encampment.
Mitch blinked in surprise. That was actually perfect. "Fan-frigging-tastic! Cut and print!"
"No can do," one of the cameraman told him. "The scene has to be done over."
"What the hell for?"
"There's a hovercar in the background of the shot."
"SHIT!" Mitch brought his fist down on the chair's arm in frustration. He got to his feet to stand next to the nearest cameraman and, sure enough, there was a huge plum of dust from an approaching hovercar. Sunlight reflected off of the windshield in bright flashes and the director didn't need to be told that it would be impossible to edit that out of the film. It looked like there was going to be a take fifteen, after all.
Yamcha came jogging back. "Hey, Mitch, how was that? Pretty good, eh?" It dawned on him that everyone had turned to watch a car drive across the sun- singed desert towards the set. His eyesight was sharper than most and it didn't take long to notice the telltale sight of sea-foam colored hair. "I'll be damned. It's Bulma!"
"Who?" a fellow cast mate asked, coming up along side of him.
"Bulma Briefs, my ex-girlfriend," Yamcha said happily until he noticed that she wasn't alone. His face dropped as well as his voice, "... and Vegeta."
"Who?" the extra asked again.
Ignoring him, Yamcha walked over to the edge of the set as the convertible slowed down and finally pulled up near the cast and crew. Bulma was in the drivers seat, radiant in a red sundress and scarf around her neck. Lounging in the passenger's seat, Vegeta took one look at what Yamcha was wearing and laughed out loud.
"Surprise!" Bulma said cheerfully, waving her arms. "Happy to see us?"
"You, yes," Yamcha muttered, fixing the Saiyan with a spiteful glare. "What brings the two of you all the way out here?"
"We have some wonderful news!" she gushed, wrapping her arms around Vegeta's neck. His eyes bulged behind the sunglasses he wore and he squirmed in her grip with a low growl. "You're not going to believe it!"
Mitch had seen enough and he turned to Penny. "Call for some security. This is a closed set."
"I don't think that would be a very good idea."
"Why not?"
"I recognize her; that's Bulma Briefs. You know, of Capsule Corporation?"
"So?"
Penny huffed out an irritated breath and explained, "We're running into the red and the film is only half completed. It just might be in your best interest to give the grand tour to a woman who's worth billions."
Swallowing, the director blinked at her for a few stunned seconds and then turned in the direction where the heiress and her companion had gotten out of the car and were talking to Yamcha. A slow smile spread across Mitch's weary face and he looked like a man who had found salvation at long last. "Penny, you're a genius."
"That's what you pay me the big bucks for, boss," the red head responded sourly.
Flipping her the finger behind his back, Mitch sauntered over to where the three were standing. "Ms. Briefs! Welcome to the set of 'Land of Yesterday'. I'm the director, Mitch Jerkins." He took her hand and shook it with two brisk pumps and then turned to Vegeta. "Hello there, sir. I'm Mitch-"
"I heard you the first time," Vegeta sniffed. He took one look at the director's outstretched hand and sneered, "And I don't shake hands."
More than used to dealing with rudeness from vain actors and the like, Mitch shrugged off the incident as he studied Vegeta curiously. "Have I seen you before? You look awfully familiar."
"So, Bulma, what's the news?" Yamcha cut in desperately, before the director clued in that Vegeta had been broadcast during the Cell games. "I'm really on a tight schedule here and we're shooting a very complicated scene."
Mitch flashed him an incredulous look, and Yamcha grinned at him as if to say; Cut me some slack here, would ya? I'm trying to impress my ex!
Bulma smiled and passed Vegeta a sly look. "Should I tell him now?"
"You've been practicing it the entire way here," the Saiyan said in a smug tone of voice. "I think he's as ready as he'll ever be."
Taking a deep breath, Bulma wrapped an arm around Vegeta's waist and declared, "Vegeta and I have gotten m-"
"-Well, well, well," commented a husky female voice from the sidelines. "Who do we have here?"
Bulma released an angry snort at the interruption and cast an unfriendly glare at the woman standing beside them. Her entire body went cold with immediate recognition. Mitch brightened as he rushed over to the leading actresses' side. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet the star of the movie herself, D-"
"No need for formalities, Jerkins. We've all met before," the tall woman said as she fixed her raven stare solely on the stunned couple.
"Haven't we, Vegeta?" Dorothy Pereaux added with a grin.
**************************************************
Chapter Three: It's mayhem on the movie set while the cameras are rolling!
... it had all been a dream ...
Jerking awake with a gasp, Bulma sat straight up in her bed. She cast the room a frantic glance, seeing only indistinguishable shapes in the murky darkness of pre-dawn. She... she was back in her room at Capsule Corporation. Everything had just been a dream: Vegeta's 'proposal', the months before the wedding, and finally the wedding itself. None of it had ever happened-
"N-no," she whimpered. Groping round blindly in the dark, her panicked fingers hit the lamp on the nightstand and knocked it over with a heavy thump.
There was a low grumble directly beside her and she jerked away with a tiny yelp of shock. It took some time for her mind to shake the after affects of her dream (screw that- NIGHTMARE!) and when she righted the lamp and turned it on, she was relieved to see that she was right where she was supposed to be: the honeymoon suite of the Majestic Regency Hotel. And she wasn't alone.
Lying on his right side facing her, Vegeta slumbered on, oblivious to her little bout of panic. Half of his face was buried into the pillow and his left hand was lying loosely near his chin. The sight of that wedding band on his finger dissuaded the last of any residual doubt and Bulma finally settled back down.
I love him so much, Bulma thought, snuggling close against Vegeta's warm body and letting her teasing fingers trail lazy circles over the smooth tanned skin at his side. Her touch eventually reached his slender hip and frolicked there for a timeless moment while she deliberated whether to wake him from his sound sleep or to remain cuddled warmly next to him.
She brought her lips forward and lightly kissed his smooth brow and brushed an errant strand of hair back from his forehead with a delicate finger. It was mystifying the intensity of emotions that he evoked in her. Her extended relationship with Yamcha had its up and downs but nothing to equal the passions that Vegeta effortlessly stirred. Her breathing began to speed up despite her mind telling her to remain calm next to him, to let him rest after his hectic pace of the night before.
Her breasts tingled with hedonistic expectation when he suddenly stirred, burrowing his head further into her soft bosom. She could feel his breathing on her sensitive aureolas, puckering them erect with trembling anticipation. Her fully awake and yearning womanhood throbbed out a primitive message to her whirling brain, clamoring incessantly at the closeness of this naked man beside her. Following the summons from her fiery center, she let her gentle fingers travel to the wide base of his shaft, finally gripping the delightful hanging member, hefting the smooth length in her small palm with almost ceremonial rite.
Vegeta came awake slowly, adjusting his fuzzy mind to the pleasurable warmth of her body next to his and the slow, sensual stroking of his rod. He inhaled her heady scent as he moved further into the soft, yielding flesh of her bosom.
"Uhmm... Ready for more already?" he murmured, bringing a hand to a weighty breast and directing the hard little nipple into his mouth.
"Only if you're up for it," she giggled; glad he was awake and feeling life surge into his powerful tool. "How did you sleep?"
"Fine." He moved his hand to her thigh then back up to her hip and over her smooth, taut belly. He let his fingers dally in the furry pelt at the apex of her womanhood, feeling her pouting softness warm to his gentle touch. Bulma spread her legs in delight at the feel of his teasing fingers, letting him arouse her desire to a fever pitch as he suckled at her breasts with tender lips.
"And just what you intend to do with this big thing?" she asked cutely, trying to keep her voice steady as she squeezed and stroked his now-hard member.
"I'll show you what I'm going to do with it!" he growled playfully, rolling her onto her back and lying between her wide, welcoming thighs. He marveled at the sight of her flushed, excited features as he held himself up by his elbows and admired her softly contoured breasts. "What a sight to wake up to," he murmured, plucking a ripe nipple into his mouth and laving the erect nub with his tongue for a brief moment, then doing the other in the same fashion; mouthing it softly between his lips as he whipped it to a growing hotness.
"Oh God, I'm ready," she breathed, placing her hands at his sides and urging him forward.
"Impatient, aren't you? I haven't even kissed you good morning yet," he smirked.
She darted her tongue urgently across her lips and prepared to meet his mouth with an eager passion. Instead of moving forward, Vegeta continued to smile down at her, not moving, looking into her expectant eyes for long seconds. Instead of meeting her mouth in lustful union, he suddenly pulled up her knees and held them firmly against her breasts. The act left her wide open to his greedy, hungry eyes and he studied her glistening pink labia with solemn authority.
"Vegeta!" Bulma gasped incredulously, her suddenly exposed clitoris throbbing wildly in this vulnerable position. With a sound like a chuckle, he was full on her in a frightful, unexpected rush- pressing his face hard against her flaming center.
"Oh my God!" she wailed, feeling his lips capture her hard clit and stabbing it with a rapid frenzy with his stiff tongue. She squirmed wildly for more, moving and twisting in erotic rapture. He nuzzled hard against her quivering nub, knocking it from side to side, and then darted his hot tongue deep into her moist folds.
Vegeta mouthed her for a few moments longer, then reared back on his knees and made an elaborate show of dragging his forearm across his mouth. "There! Now that," he boasted, "is a Saiyan's idea of a morning kiss!"
"Ohhh... Wow," she panted wonderingly. "You can kiss me like that every morning!"
"I just might," he said in a smug voice as he mounted her. Nudging the broad head of his erection against the pouting lips of her entrance, he began sliding the tip up and down the heavenly slit, deliberately teasing her. She dug her fingernails into his back in response and he continued to move slowly over her. Easing in just the knob of his manhood, he cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look directly up into his eyes. "Do you want it?"
"Of course I want it," she panted. "I want all of you inside me. As much as you can give."
It was what he wanted to hear. He lowered his head and kissed her, darting his tongue between her moist lips as he slid his member all the way into her quivering furnace with one, unending stroke. Slowly, relishing each minute ripple of her velvet sheath, he began to piston in and out of that tight warmth. This was against all the dictates of his unique breeding; to be gentle, to take his time, to actually care for another's pleasure before his own. Before Bulma, he never would have bothered about anything, save his own quick release. More times than not, he wouldn't have even bothered to learn his conquest's name. So many things had changed over the years and perhaps not all of them, as he so liked to brood about, were for the worst. The time he spent with Bulma had served to make him a better lover.
Teasingly, he pulled out so that only the tip was concealed in the throbbing furrow, then, with a guttural groan, he plunged in again deeply. He moved in and out of her, increasing his tempo as he went, and Bulma began to swing her pelvis back and forth in perfect rhythm to his strokes. Moaning in pleasure, she pulled her legs up and wrapped then around his back, eager to give him complete access to her clutching channel. Lost in waves of exultant lust, she didn't notice his reaction when the heel of her left foot connected with his tail scar. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she moaned her way the exquisite shudders of pleasure of a tender climax.
The instant he felt that rough contact on his tender flesh, Vegeta released a pained snarl and dug his fingers deep into the mattress. If he had been holding her at the time, his reflex reaction would probably have severely injured her. The old wound always bothered him, some days were worse than others. He had thought that he was finally over the worst of it until their joyride on that pink, two-wheeled monstrosity the day before. He had felt every single bump and pothole concentrated in that inch-wide scar at the base of his spine.
Fortunately, the blaze of agony was brief and Bulma never noticed the slight pause in his technique and he was plunging into her again, faster than ever. A light sheen of perspiration clung to his olive-colored skin and his entire body glistened in the soft glow of the lamp's light. Every muscle moved with precision, his body tense and alive with excitement as he pumped his hips back and forth. Bulma's body was thrilled with wave upon wave of undulating ecstasy and she moaned in utter delight, responding perfectly to his every lunging stroke. She stared lovingly into his dark, slanted eyes, captivated to have this muscular, powerful body all to herself. She grabbed a handful of his thick hair and pulled his face down to give him a deep, hungry kiss as her hands eagerly kneaded the knotted muscles of his broad back and shoulders.
Gazing deeply into the dazzling pools of his wife's glittering blue eyes, Vegeta was stunned to see the trust and love that radiated from that innocent gaze. No one had ever looked at him like that before. He knew fear, and recognized lust when he saw it but not emotions like these- Trust. Love. He never figured that he'd ever be the recipient.
I think that my lifetime of shitty luck has finally run its course, he thought. Only a lucky man could be in my place right now.
Bulma's eyes widened in surprise and he knew that she had caught the stray thought. When their bodies were joined this closely together it wasn't uncommon for their minds to open up. Usually, he kept his thoughts carefully guarded and only betrayed the odd word or image. This was a rare admission for her to catch. Still, he didn't regret the lapse; far from it.
-Remember what you heard, mri Bulma-tik'o, he told her honestly. When we're finished, I'll be back to my old, prickish self. He chuckled against the soft flesh of her neck while she marveled over what he had confessed in his rare thought.
-I love you so much! she projected with her mind as hard as she could, hoping that he would be receptive to it. Almost immediately, she heard him chuckle again and felt his lips against her cheek as he whispered, "I know."
It was enough to propel her over the brink. Clutching at his bulging muscles, she was rocked with pulsing hot passion and her fiery center blazed with orgasmic release. "OOHHH!" she shrieked, thrashing madly beneath him. "Oh- GOD! That's IT! YESSS!!"
Watching her climax, he knew that even if he stopped his frantic stroking he would come. Nothing would prevent the escape of the hot semen that had been building in his balls since the moment her hand had touched him. His orgasm was almost painful in its intensity, and he felt Bulma's body jerk with each spurt of his seed into her spasming womanhood. The sensation was overwhelming and he arched his back and released a roar of savage accomplishment that was echoed by Bulma's shrill peals of pleasure.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of rapturous bliss, their passion passed its peak. The intensity of their lovemaking diminished until finally, Vegeta lay exhausted, sprawled on top of Bulma's voluptuous body. For a long moment, there was only the sound of their rapid breathing until, with a groan, he rolled off of her and stared at the ceiling with heavy eyes. "I know just the perfect thing that would compliment this moment," he murmured lazily.
She raised her head and stared at him. "You do? What is it?" she asked eagerly.
"A great big steak. Why don't you go order up some room service?"
She should have known.
The Majestic Regency was known worldwide for its spectacular seaside panoramic perspective, but the only view that the newlyweds were interested in were for each other. Vegeta and Bulma spent the entire day frolicking nude around the suite and dividing their hours up between intermittent bouts of eating, catching naps, and screwing their mutual brains out. Both were insatiable with their desire for one another and it wasn't until early evening when Bulma finally had the wits to call home and talk to her mother.
"Finally!" her mother screeched into the receiver. "Do you realize that I've been constantly trying to call you ever since you left yesterday?"
"Sorry, mom. I forgot that my phone was turned off," Bulma lied smoothly as she laid back in the recliner and drank some champagne from one fluted crystal glass. She was currently sporting a nice mellow buzz from the bubbly liquid and nothing, not even her harried mother, could upset her present contentment. Opposite her, sprawled on the couch, Vegeta was snoring away with that endearing purr-like quality of his. In his present insensate state, she could use him as a footstool and he wouldn't stir: A combination of exhaustion and the result of downing two full bottles of champagne. It was such a rare sight to see him in a relaxed state that Bulma found that she couldn't take her eyes off of him for longer than a minute.
"Um mm, a likely story," her mother responded but, fortunately, that was about as long as she stayed miffed. "So tell me everything! How was your drive? What did you see? Where is that handsome son-in-law of mine?"
Bulma burst out laughing at the endearing reference and Vegeta muttered something in his sleep, shifted position, and came precariously close to falling off of the narrow sofa. Positioning her foot against his bare hip, she pushed him back from the edge and this time he rolled over in the opposite direction without waking up. She almost started braying laughter again at the sight. "He's right here, just catching up on some sleep."
"But Bulma, it's barely six o'clock. Isn't that a little early- ... oooh. OH! I get it," the blonde tittered like a pre-school girl who had just heard her first naughty word. "You two have been... busy."
"That's one word for it," Bulma said smugly. "How're Trunks and dad?"
There was a frustrated exhale of breath on the other end and Bulma knew that her mother wanted to hear all of the juicy details and didn't appreciate the change of topic. "Trunks is adorable as ever but he misses you and Vegeta terribly. He's started this annoying habit of biting people. Why, just this afternoon he bit your father on the ankle and now he won't stop chasing after the cat!"
"He's just testing you. When he does something wrong, just do what Vegeta does; take him by the scruff of the neck and give him a firm shake."
"Bulma! He's not a pet!"
"I know that mom, but just telling him 'no' won't work. He's half-Saiyan and needs discipline to control those aggressive tendencies. You're going to have to make him mind."
Bulma knew that she might as well have tried reasoning with the wall. Too gentle to even swat at a fly, her mother would never raise her voice in protest against Trunks' actions, let alone attempt to discipline him. "We'll get along fine until you come home, dear," the blond said and her daughter had to submerge a groan. In two weeks time, Trunks would be completely spoiled rotten by his grandparents and impossible to manage. She and Vegeta were going to have their hands full when they got back. It was fortunate that the Saiyan didn't mind playing the villain when it came to laying down the law (after all, it came so naturally to him), allowing Bulma to console the boy and remain the hero. It was surprising how their varied views on parenting actually stitched together: Vegeta left the mothering to her, and Bulma let him be the disciplinarian. It was enough of a shared balance to create an environment where Trunks' unique heritage could thrive.
Unfortunately, no one else seemed to understand that. "Mother..." Bulma sighed, feeling her pleasant buzz beginning to slide. "Just do your best with him, okay?" she said in surrender, not wanting a fight with her vacuous, well-intentioned mother to ruin her mood. To get the woman off- topic, Bulma told her about the previous day's problems with traffic and having to travel on Daisy. Mrs. Briefs laughed so hard that Bulma had to hold the receiver away from her ear but it left the woman in high spirits when she was finally able to hang up. Right after that, she shut off her phone again. Just in case.
Refilling her glass in an attempt to reclaim her buzz, Bulma fetched her laptop and began charting their next destination as she calibrated the Dragonball radar. The next one nearest them was somewhere in the Caribbean and, after confirming the latitude and longitude coordinates, her brow furrowed in worry. It was hard to settle old superstitions, especially on a planet with so many conflicting myths and fantasies running around. This place in particular had a dubious reputation.
Then again, she thought as her eyes fell on the slumbering alien on the couch, so did he. With Vegeta by her side there was nothing on Earth that could come close to harming her. That knowledge offered her comfort and served to relax her. Smiling, she went back to scanning her computer for some nearby tourist attractions that they might want to see (well, let's be honest here... attractions that SHE would want to see and would have to drag Vegeta along for the ride). A couple of hours north would take them into the Arid Wastes; a desert of sagebrush and barren rock formations where Vegeta had faced off against Gokou in their first confrontation. For some reason, Bulma found herself dwelling over the name as her finger tapped idly on the arm of the recliner. Tourists flocked to the site year around and the fissures and blast holes also attracted film crews. Why did that all sound so familiar to her? The explanation was on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't quite grasp it. After a few frustrating moments, she finally gave up and forced herself to search through her luggage for her lost capsule packet.
Dimly, as if his ears were stuffed with cotton, Vegeta pulled slowly out of his heavy doze to the sounds of luggage being unpacked, rifled through, and then encapsulated again. The sound was irritating and he tried to block out Bulma's frustrated cursing by wrapping his arm around one side of his head while forcing the other side deeper into the pillow. He was in, what Bulma had affectionately labeled as, his 'Badman' mode; he had gotten laid, his stomach was full, he was half in the bag, and all he wanted to do was get some uninterrupted sleep. He'd never admit it aloud, even under the threat of torture, but the truth was that Bulma was literally wearing him out with her voracious sex drive. He never would have believed it was even possible before today.
Slip a gaudy piece of jewelry on the woman's finger and she turns into a succubus, he thought and betrayed a faint smile. He absently wondered how Krillin and Android 18's honeymoon would turn out (if it ever happened, the pair hadn't even set a wedding date yet) and figured that the little runt better pack a body bag for himself. He released a snort at the mental picture of them together. And people that that he and Bulma were an odd pair-?!
There was an excited shout of, "I found it!" from the bedroom and Bulma rushed into the living room and stood beside the couch. "Are you still asleep?"
"Yes."
"Too bad," she said and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist as if he were Daisy. He half expected her to scream out 'Giddy-up' but instead she held up her capsule packet. "I found my spare capsules. It figures that it was in the last bag I checked. Now we don't have to drive around on that moped anymore."
Pulling his arm away, he looked up and was greeted to the sight of a very naked Bulma leaning over him. He laced his fingers behind his head and appreciated the view of her perfect breasts as he yawned, "If you hadn't found it, we could have just stolen a car. No big deal."
She thought he was joking at first, and then she considered the source. "We couldn't do something like that."
"Why not? It'd be fun."
That certainly wasn't a word that came up in his vocabulary very often. She looked at him carefully and was surprised to see him staring up at her with a crafty expression on his face. "You've done it before, haven't you?" she realized.
His faint smile broadened.
"Ohmigod, you have!"
"Not on Earth," he told her. "Not for a long time. Nappa, Radditz, and I were occasionally assigned scouting or reconnaissance missions instead of the usual purgings. The inactivity used to drive us crazy with boredom."
"So you stole cars?"
"Well, not just any cars- if that was what you could even call them. The vehicles varied from planet to planet. But they were always owned by the local law enforcement. That was the whole point. We were allowed to battle if we were threatened by an authority figure. That usually happened after a couple of hours of joyriding. By then, they'd start shooting at us so we were allowed to retaliate."
She knew what that meant. "How old were you?"
"Early teens."
She burst out laughing. "You juvenile delinquent!" she howled, punching his shoulder playfully. It should have bothered her that he had used such antics as justification for killing people but the admission was just so unexpected that it caught her off guard.
"I don't see what's so funny," he mumbled, self-consciously crossing his arms.
"Don't you get it? This is what this whole trip is about. I hardly know anything about your life before you came to Earth. Now I know that you stole cars when you were a kid- It makes you more human in my eyes."
"Whatever floats your boat. Do you want to do it or not?"
"NO!"
"Bah, you're no fun," he pouted, closing his eyes and pretending to fall back asleep.
"I'm not, huh?" Bulma stayed where she was and began to rock her hips back and forth along his hard stomach. Vegeta tried to ignore her but he was betrayed by another part of his anatomy that was eagerly responding to the close proximity of her womanhood.
When he felt her hand guide him into her tight entrance, he mumbled out, "Wake me when you're done."
She had to laugh, even as she eased herself down on that exquisite length until he was completely imbedded within her. Deliberately, she began to flex her inner thighs and internal muscles around his rod as her body remained perfectly still. She had been practicing her Kegel exercises during their three weeks apart as a treat for their honeymoon. Now, Vegeta's eyes snapped open as he felt her inner palpitations; squeezing, letting go, squeezing harder-
"What the hell-?" his voice actually broke in surprise.
"I thought you'd like it," she purred, raking her fingernails lightly across his hard chest. She started adding a counter-clockwise motion to her hips while her sex muscles continued their loving contractions. Underneath of her, Vegeta grappled for control before he came too soon but he was fighting a losing battle and they both knew it. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her hips and began thrusting up into her with little grunts of effort. His fingers dug into her tender flesh with almost painful force but Bulma was too distracted too notice as she writhed atop of him, working her hips around his member with savage gyrations.
Never in her life had she ever felt so free with her sexuality. It thrilled her to know that Vegeta would be receptive to just about any whispered suggestion she brought into their relationship, and more than prepared to add a few suggestions of his own. She knew that he'd had more than his share of liaisons in his past, experiencing all manner of positions and perversions. It had served to have gotten it all out of his system and he was finally ready to settle down, willing to share his knowledge only with her. All that Bulma really knew about sex were from romance novels, magazines, and her disappointing on-again-off-again romance with-
"Yamcha!" she cried out, just as Vegeta was about to climax.
With a livid curse, he pushed her off of him and she fell backwards into the arm of the sofa, dazed and shocked. "Wha- Vegeta?"
"You're screwing me and you're thinking about him?!" he bellowed, eyeing her in disbelief.
"I just remembered something that I was thinking about earlier-"
"Shut up! I told you never to say that fucker's name while we were together!"
"It was an accident!" she said sincerely, knowing that the mere mention of her past lover was always guaranteed to enrage the Saiyan and she had spoken his name at possibly the worst moment imaginable. "He's got a part in a movie that being filmed in the Arid Wastes and that's only a few hours away from here. I was wondering why the name of the place sounded so familiar-"
Shaking his head, Vegeta leapt from the sofa and stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Giving chase she heard him lock the door and, following that, heard the shower come on. "Vegeta!" she yelled, bringing a fist down on the door. "Talk to me, dammit! Don't shut me out." She could imagine him standing under the spray, scrubbing off the scent of her, and purposely ignoring her impassioned pleas.
I hurt him, she realized with genuine dismay. He knows that I once loved Yamcha with all of my heart and soul and wonders to this day if I still privately yearn for him. I did more than just hurt him, I wounded his pride.
"Vegeta, I'm sorry!" she pleaded when she heard the shower shut off. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob to try pulling on it and was relieved to hear it become unlocked. Vegeta stepped out, rubbing a towel back and forth through his thick hair. He sidestepped her and went directly into the bedroom to start getting dressed.
Bulma understood that he was getting ready to leave. "Shit, Vegeta! I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to say?"
Pulling on a shirt, he directed one of his cold gazes in her direction and she sucked in breath at the amount of hatred that she saw in those raven depths. "Goodbye," he said as his answer and pulled the ring off of his finger and threw it on the bed.
In a rare moment as she was lost for words, Bulma watched him finish dressing and then turn to the balcony in preparation to fly away. With as calm a voice as she could manage, Bulma said levelly, "Run away if you have to. It's one of the things you do best."
He came to a halt as if he had run into a wall. The muscles across his shoulders and back rippled beneath the material of his shirt as he tensened up in preparation for a fight. "I've never run away from a battle in my entire life," he told her with a low snarl.
"This isn't a battle, it's a relationship," she reasoned. "That's something you have no experience in dealing with. Need I remind you that you swore to an oath? How easily it is for you to throw that promise aside when it suits you!"
He turned around slowly and glared at her. "You call out the name of your ex-lover while we're having sex and you have the gall to make me the scoundrel?"
"I said I was sorry and I meant it," she said in that same measured, level voice. If she lost her temper now and started shouting at him, he would bolt for sure. She had been in the wrong and she knew it, she had to try and find some way to repair the damage.
It was clear that he had been expecting some manner of frenzied tirade instead of this calm approach. A muscle jumped in the angle of his jawline as he looked to the escape that the balcony offered and back to Bulma. Finally, his eyes settled on a neutral sight and he glowered at the far wall, crossing his arms and visibly at a loss in which direction to go.
"I've told you before that Yamcha wasn't that great in bed," Bulma told him. "I was just thinking about how experienced you are when his name just popped into my head."
He released a sour snort. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's not for the reason you think. I never told Yamcha about our engagement. At the hospital while Chi Chi was in labor, do you know what he said about you? He said that you'd never marry me- That you didn't care for me as much as he did. And never would."
Vegeta's mouth twitched in response to her words but that was about it. She decided to press on, "Think about his reaction if we paid him a surprise visit and told him the news together."
There was a scheming look on her face that he immediately recognized. The only difference was that it wasn't his reflection. "You malicious wench," he said in a surprised tone. "Are you actually suggesting what I think you are?"
"He broke us up, got you fired, beat you up, almost got you killed when he led that doctor back to you in Ivory City. It's about time that we finally put him in his place once and for all."
Vegeta understood that Bulma was talking about revenge, something that definitely appealed to his twisted nature. His finger casually tapped his bicep while he considered the idea; it was actually quite brilliant and didn't even involve any combat. He could clearly picture the expression on the idiot's face as they groped one another right in front of him. A gratified smirk threatened to pull up the corner of his mouth but he quenched it as he leveled his gaze at her, "It should bother me that you want to visit your idiot ex-lover on our honeymoon."
"It's a pretty good opportunity, don't you think?"
"Hnh," he grunted, still considering the idea. She decided to walk over to him and was grateful when he didn't pull away from her.
"I've opened my mind to you, Vegeta. You know that you're the only man for me," she told him, caressing his cheek. "You're a prince, you're powerful, and you're fantastic in bed. No human male can compare to any of that! Nobody else can even come close to how much I love you."
The Saiyan was always vulnerable to a little well-placed ego stroking and this moment was no different. Bulma was relieved when the tension in his shoulders finally eased and he dropped his arms to allow her to cuddle in closer. Her arms wrapped tenderly around his waist and she looked into his eyes and whispered, "This was our first serious fight as a married couple. Do you know what that means?"
He looked at her a little warily. "...No."
"Make-up sex," she said with a smile and kissed him.
Two hours later, Vegeta was sleeping again and this time Bulma decided that she would let him get the rest that he needed. She was starting to get a little weary herself and more than a little sore in all of the wrong places. She drew a bath for herself and slid gratefully into the blissful depths of the whirlpool tub, smiling in contentment. Things had been tense a short while ago but their love for one another had finally won out. Bulma knew that there was nothing else that could place their union in jeopardy with this last hurdle behind them.
Relaxing in the hot water, Bulma thought craftily, Tomorrow, Yamcha, you are going to get the shock of your life.
"CUT!" the director yelled and rubbed his aching temple. "Who the hell ever said that this bozo could act?" he muttered to his assistant.
"You know darn well who," she reminded him in a cautious voice.
"Thanks for reminding me," he said peevishly and jumped off of his chair and walked around the cameras onto the elaborate set. It was early morning in the 'Wastes and the film crew and actors were taking advantage of the coolness of the desert before the sun could climb and make the heat unbearable. A small shanty village had been built at the base of one gigantic mesa while nearby, brooding spires of harsh rock poked out of the arid dirt like the ribs of some long dead prehistoric giant. It was the perfect setting for a post-nuclear holocaust film called "Land of Yesterday" where the hero of a primitive tribe searched the desert for ancient weapons to defeat an evil warlord.
It was strictly a "B" movie with a limited budget and the director was cutting any corners that he could. It hadn't mattered (at least not at first) that one of the film's extras couldn't act worth a damn; he displayed some rather fantastic powers that served to cut down on the budget allocated for pyrotechnics. If the director had had his way, the guy would have just been stuck on sidelines until they needed an explosion, but he was currently the leading lady's boytoy. The actress was fronting a significant amount of her own money to finance what she hoped would be her comeback to Hollywood. She had promised her lover a part and by damned, he was going to get a part! Not even the director was brave enough to butt heads with that Amazon bitch.
"Yamcha," the man said as he stepped up to the fighter. "It's really very simple. All you have to do is shield your eyes like you're scanning the horizon and shout out; 'There's dust on the horizon! The attackers are coming to the village!' Got it?"
"Sorry Mitch," Yamcha said humbly. He was dressed only in a loincloth and tattered leather boots and his muscles flexed nervously under a layer of sweat brought on by the rising humidity. He hadn't been allowed to shave for the part and several days' stubble coated his lower jaw. Adding his unruly hair to the look and Mitch figured that the guy was definitely handsome- he just couldn't frigging act! "I'll get it right this time, I promise."
"Uh huh," Mitch said unconvincingly as he wandered back to his seat. "That's what you've said for the last eleven takes," he mumbled under his breath.
"Scene forty-seven, take twelve," one crew hand shouted.
"Awright people, we're wasting morning light," the director called out. "Action!"
Stepping out from behind one ripped tent flap, Yamcha (listed in the credits as Expendable Tribesman Three) walked a short distance to the edge of the camp and scouted the horizon, his face drawn and serious. Raising one hand to shield his eyes, his face assumed an expression of curiosity and then fear. "Oh no!" he shouted out, "There's rust on the horiz-"
"CUT!" Mitch bawled out and took his face in his hands.
"Did I say rust? Heh, sorry about that," Yamcha chuckled, scratching the back of his neck with an absent hand.
"Scene forty-seven, take thirteen," the crewmember called out.
Mitch sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable. "Action," he muttered, quickly losing his enthusiasm.
Emerging again from the ruined tent, Yamcha walked to the edge of the camp and scanned the desert. "Oh no!" he shouted out, pointing to the east. "There's dust on the horizon! The villagers are attacking!"
"CUT!" Mitch screamed. "That's not the friggin' line! It's 'The attackers are coming to the village!' How much trouble is that to remember?!"
"I can't concentrate! This stupid loincloth is making me itchy!" Yamcha groused back, adjusting his crotch.
"This is going to look great on the blooper reel," Mitch's assistant giggled.
"Shut up, Penny," he snapped back, fixing her with a sour look. "Where the hell is our 'Village Priestess' anyway? Maybe she can talk some sense into lover-boy here."
"Still getting 'into the role' in her trailer," Penny told him. "You know the rules; don't disturb her while she gets into character. She'll be here soon enough."
Rolling his eyes, Mitch nodded to the crew hand who immediately called out, "Scene forty-seven, take fourteen."
Gripping the armrests of his chair, Mitch Jerkins said, "Action!"
Knowing that this was possibly his last chance, Yamcha left the tent for what he prayed would be the last time and walked over the edge of the camp. He held a hand over his eyes as he looked around and then called out, "There's dust on the horizon! The attackers are approaching the village!" he backed up and ran into the encampment.
Mitch blinked in surprise. That was actually perfect. "Fan-frigging-tastic! Cut and print!"
"No can do," one of the cameraman told him. "The scene has to be done over."
"What the hell for?"
"There's a hovercar in the background of the shot."
"SHIT!" Mitch brought his fist down on the chair's arm in frustration. He got to his feet to stand next to the nearest cameraman and, sure enough, there was a huge plum of dust from an approaching hovercar. Sunlight reflected off of the windshield in bright flashes and the director didn't need to be told that it would be impossible to edit that out of the film. It looked like there was going to be a take fifteen, after all.
Yamcha came jogging back. "Hey, Mitch, how was that? Pretty good, eh?" It dawned on him that everyone had turned to watch a car drive across the sun- singed desert towards the set. His eyesight was sharper than most and it didn't take long to notice the telltale sight of sea-foam colored hair. "I'll be damned. It's Bulma!"
"Who?" a fellow cast mate asked, coming up along side of him.
"Bulma Briefs, my ex-girlfriend," Yamcha said happily until he noticed that she wasn't alone. His face dropped as well as his voice, "... and Vegeta."
"Who?" the extra asked again.
Ignoring him, Yamcha walked over to the edge of the set as the convertible slowed down and finally pulled up near the cast and crew. Bulma was in the drivers seat, radiant in a red sundress and scarf around her neck. Lounging in the passenger's seat, Vegeta took one look at what Yamcha was wearing and laughed out loud.
"Surprise!" Bulma said cheerfully, waving her arms. "Happy to see us?"
"You, yes," Yamcha muttered, fixing the Saiyan with a spiteful glare. "What brings the two of you all the way out here?"
"We have some wonderful news!" she gushed, wrapping her arms around Vegeta's neck. His eyes bulged behind the sunglasses he wore and he squirmed in her grip with a low growl. "You're not going to believe it!"
Mitch had seen enough and he turned to Penny. "Call for some security. This is a closed set."
"I don't think that would be a very good idea."
"Why not?"
"I recognize her; that's Bulma Briefs. You know, of Capsule Corporation?"
"So?"
Penny huffed out an irritated breath and explained, "We're running into the red and the film is only half completed. It just might be in your best interest to give the grand tour to a woman who's worth billions."
Swallowing, the director blinked at her for a few stunned seconds and then turned in the direction where the heiress and her companion had gotten out of the car and were talking to Yamcha. A slow smile spread across Mitch's weary face and he looked like a man who had found salvation at long last. "Penny, you're a genius."
"That's what you pay me the big bucks for, boss," the red head responded sourly.
Flipping her the finger behind his back, Mitch sauntered over to where the three were standing. "Ms. Briefs! Welcome to the set of 'Land of Yesterday'. I'm the director, Mitch Jerkins." He took her hand and shook it with two brisk pumps and then turned to Vegeta. "Hello there, sir. I'm Mitch-"
"I heard you the first time," Vegeta sniffed. He took one look at the director's outstretched hand and sneered, "And I don't shake hands."
More than used to dealing with rudeness from vain actors and the like, Mitch shrugged off the incident as he studied Vegeta curiously. "Have I seen you before? You look awfully familiar."
"So, Bulma, what's the news?" Yamcha cut in desperately, before the director clued in that Vegeta had been broadcast during the Cell games. "I'm really on a tight schedule here and we're shooting a very complicated scene."
Mitch flashed him an incredulous look, and Yamcha grinned at him as if to say; Cut me some slack here, would ya? I'm trying to impress my ex!
Bulma smiled and passed Vegeta a sly look. "Should I tell him now?"
"You've been practicing it the entire way here," the Saiyan said in a smug tone of voice. "I think he's as ready as he'll ever be."
Taking a deep breath, Bulma wrapped an arm around Vegeta's waist and declared, "Vegeta and I have gotten m-"
"-Well, well, well," commented a husky female voice from the sidelines. "Who do we have here?"
Bulma released an angry snort at the interruption and cast an unfriendly glare at the woman standing beside them. Her entire body went cold with immediate recognition. Mitch brightened as he rushed over to the leading actresses' side. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet the star of the movie herself, D-"
"No need for formalities, Jerkins. We've all met before," the tall woman said as she fixed her raven stare solely on the stunned couple.
"Haven't we, Vegeta?" Dorothy Pereaux added with a grin.
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Chapter Three: It's mayhem on the movie set while the cameras are rolling!