A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON © 2006 Darke Angelus
Epilogue
"So, uh, Bulma," Krillin attempted again after getting nothing more than an hour of tense silence from the livid Heiress. "Up until the point that Vegeta stranded you on the Lookout, you were having a good honeymoon?"
Bulma had her lower lips stuck out in a pout and she pulled out of her foul mood long enough to mumble; "It was an adventure, that's for sure."
"I read about some of it in the tabloids. That little stunt you guys pulled at the Museum exhibit in London had me in serious hot water with 18."
"What?" her eyes sharpened on his face. "Why?"
"She read about the size of the diamond that Vegeta gave you and freaked out. I couldn't go back home until I brought back something larger than one carat."
"And did you?"
The little monk's face screwed up in anguish. "Yeah, but I'm now in hock up to my eyeballs, which at my height isn't saying much. 18 doesn't seem to understand that I can't compete with Vegeta. He's a Prince, for crying out loud, and he's loaded-"
"He can also be a major jerk, Krillin. That's something you're not. Wealth and status don't mean a damned thing if you haven't got the personality to back it all up. You're a super sweet guy. 18 is a very lucky lady, er... person to have you."
Encountering an air current that was a warm, pleasing temperature, Krillin slowed his course back to the Western Capital and regarded her seriously. "You're not having second thoughts about marrying Vegeta, are you?"
Her blue eyes widened in disbelief. "Of course not! What gave you an idea like that?"
"Well, when you called me, you were pretty upset," he said, seriously downplaying the incident. After reacting to Bulma's slip of the tongue, Vegeta had blasted away for a direct course home, deliberately leaving her behind. At first she was a little grateful for the time-out until it dawned on her that she didn't have any travel capsules. Piccolo and the others were in Antarctica, Mr. Popo couldn't fly, and Dende wasn't able to leave the Lookout. It was well beyond Gohan's bedtime, and she sure as heck wasn't going to have Chi Chi or her parents come and get her, so that left only one person.
In truth, Krillin was grateful to have the excuse to leave Master Roshi's island. Android 18 was beginning to get carried away with the idea of an approaching wedding and the monk was beginning to wonder if the concept wasn't frying her circuits. She wanted to rent a huge cathedral for the nuptials to take place, stating proudly that it could seat almost a thousand guests. When Krillin explained that, between the two of them, the most that they would have on the invitation list was maybe twenty people, she flipped out. And when he worked up the nerve to tell her that most of them probably wouldn't even be able to afford a wedding present, she seriously flipped out.
"Why are all of your friends so poor!" she started screaming. Sitting in the corner quietly watching television, the turtle pulled his head and flippers into his shell and tried to appear invisible.
"Whuh- well, Bulma isn't-"
"One person. One! How on Earth are we going to be able to furnish our dream house with one decent present? You tell me that!"
Krillin wasn't able to tell her anything. His shell-shocked mind began whirling around the words; "Dream house", and he was pretty sure that she wasn't talking about the old shack of Roshi's they were currently living in.
The argument was still raging on when Bulma's call came through and poor Krillin, initially relieved at the timely intrusion, was suddenly the sole target of another crazed female. "Wha-what's wrong, Bulma-"
"Vegeta! That's what!" the tiny cell phone practically jumped in Krillin's hand and he had to hold it at arms length. "That miserable, monkey-humping son of bitch-"
The conversation had just gone downhill from there. So it came as a surprise that she was looking at him now in astonishment when he had asked the question if she might be regretting getting married to the Saiyan. "Seriously, Krillin. I love Vegeta."
"You could have fooled me earlier."
"Oh, I was just blowing off some steam," she dismissed with a wave. "It doesn't mean anything. Couples fight all the time."
"They do?"
"It can't always be hugs and kisses, Krillin. Sometimes you have to let out a little steam or you'd explode. 18 is like that, I think. Vegeta and I just do it more often than most people. We actually got along great on the honeymoon. When we weren't screwing like bunnies, we were off having amazing adventures together!"
Krillin immediately blushed. "Uh, thanks for sharing..."
"That's what a honeymoon is all about, silly!" she started to smile at her friend's obvious distress. She knew that the little man wasn't very knowledgeable about women and she suspected that he was even still a virgin. She liked to tease him at the best of times and this was the perfect opportunity. "For the first two days of it, we barely made it out of bed. We tried all sorts of different positions, and once, I even managed to talk him into-"
"Bulma!" the man's face was nearly purple. "Can we not talk about THAT. Please?"
"Oh, poo- You're no fun," she playfully pinched his cheek, giggling. "Fine, then. I'll tell you about what happened in the Bermuda Triangle. How about that?"
"Fine, just keep it G-Rated for me, alright?"
"There wasn't any hanky panky. Vegeta was too tired and he couldn't get it u-"
"Bulma!"
She rolled her eyes. "You are such a prude!" she cried, and proceeded to give him a clean, abridged, kindergarten version of some of their more noteworthy adventures. The storytelling lasted until they reached the Western Capital and by the time Krillin set her down in the courtyard of the Headquarters building, she was calm again. Retelling the events had made her realize that perhaps Vegeta had good reason to be angry with her. All along she had assured him that the wish making was to be his affair and she had stolen the thunder right out from under his nose (even if it had been an accident).
Speaking of thunder...
There were a series of hollow 'booms' that echoed in the night air and Krillin followed Bulma around to the back yard. The Gravity Simulator was rocking on its struts and the crimson portals were flashing as if muted explosions were going on inside of the circular chamber. In a twisted sort of way, Bulma supposed that there were. Vegeta was having a temper tantrum of epic proportions and, at first, she figured that it just might be best if he let off some steam where he couldn't hurt anybody. Then she saw the simulator shudder followed by several rivets popping out of the hull and she realized if she didn't interfere, and soon, he was going to breech the walls of the training device and hurt himself. Again.
Bulma's parents were sitting at the patio, enjoying a cup of lemonade, and just carrying on chatting as if it were just like any other day. Trunks was mutilating his newest stuffed toy nearby and when he caught sight of his mother, he leapt immediately to his feet and raced towards her-
Thwangg! The boy was suddenly knocked off of his feet as the steel cable that Dr. Briefs had attached to his harness became taut. It had originally started out as a harness for his cat, but the old man had redesigned it to stop the boy from his incessant climbing, sprinting and getting into everything that could be potentially damaging to the baby. When Bulma went over to sooth the crying boy, she noticed that it looked as if her parents had aged ten years.
"You're back!" her mother gushed. "Why, when I saw Vegeta return early I just knew that you would be home soon. It's wonderful to have you back. Juh- just wonderful!" Tears began leaking out of the corners of her eyes and, beside her, Dr. Briefs took off his coke-bottle glasses and scrubbed his eyes with a hankie. Bulma wasn't sure if it was relief in having them back, or relief that their babysitting tenure was finally over.
"Momma!" Trunks grabbed hold of her arm and began shaking it (and shaking the rest of her, he was getting so strong!) "I can do hunnert numbers! I Can! Lissen momma! Lissen: Wontoothreefoor-"
Yeah, probably the latter.
There was another resounding boom, and Bulma turned in time to see the Gravity Simulator wobble in its frame. "Just a moment, sweetie. Your mother has to go do something first."
"NoNoNOOO-" the boy's cry became as feral wail as he strained against the steel cable, arms waving for his mother who was running across the yard. The cable was attached to a steel bracket screwed into the side of the Headquarters building. As the little hybrid lunged against the restraint again, Dr. Briefs barely had the time to duck as the bracket, and a good-sized chunk of concrete, went sailing over his head. Now free, Trunks streaked off in pursuit of his mother.
Bulma, meanwhile, had ducked under the rocking training dome and popped open a service hatch. Reaching inside to a depth of her shoulder, she groped around blindly for a moment before she seized something and hauled it out with a yank. In her hand was a bunch of sputtering wires. Two seconds later, the simulator began to power down.
Three seconds after THAT, the simulator door slammed open and Vegeta stuck his head out, bellowing: "Woman! What the fuck did you do?"
"Fukfukfukfukfuk" Trunks began parroting happily. Mrs. Briefs tried to cover his mouth and he bit her finger. She started running around the yard, screaming in agony.
Standing a fair distance on the sidelines, Krillin watched the show, his round face expressionless with shock. Bulma and Vegeta were in each other's face yelling things that didn't make any sense. Trunks was trying to get their attention and crying at the top of his lungs. Mrs. Briefs was still screaming like a fire bell. It didn't take long for a police cruiser to show up, its lights flashing and siren wailing. Two policemen approached the warring family members and were trying to tell them to keep it down, neighbors were complaining about the noise. Immediately assuming the role of a united couple, both Vegeta and Bulma told the civil servants exactly where they could go. The cops retreated back to their cruiser threatening to call for back up. In the background of it all, Dr. Briefs sat back down and took his face in his hands. It looked like he was weeping.
"This is nuts," Krillin muttered under his breath and took to the sky, suddenly eager to get back to his peaceful island. And he had actually been complaining? Confronting one harried, bitchy fiancé was certainly better than staying at the insane asylum that was now the Capsule Corporation headquarters building!
Speeding a swift course out over the Pacific Ocean, he resolved that he would never complain about 18 ever again.
Nobody in the entire Briefs household had gotten more than an hour's sleep that entire night. The cops made good with their threat and called for assistance. They were well aware that Vegeta posed more of a threat than they were prepared to deal with (the fact that he had been a contestant at the Cell Games was public knowledge) and damned if the SWAT Team didn't arrive decked out in full riot gear. All they would have needed to make it complete was the portable camera unit from "COPS". Upon further investigation, Mrs. Briefs' theatrics were revealed to be over something quite serious; Trunks had almost bitten through the bone of her little finger. An ambulance was called and she was rushed off to the hospital with her husband fretting by her side.
Vegeta had a serious hate-on for firearms ever since his Installation 15 ordeal and it took a great deal of coaxing for Bulma to get him into the house before things got really nasty. He reluctantly agreed, dragging his son along behind him by the steel cable like an inexperienced pet owner trying to walk a stubborn dog. Now on her own, Bulma put on the charm. She was able to reason with the infuriated officials, but not before offering to buy any and all of the policeman's ball tickets, promotional calendars, and raffle tickets that they owned. It wasn't quite a bribe but it served its purpose, and by midnight, the last police cruiser had left the compound.
She wasn't alone, though. Not by a long shot.
It had been common knowledge that the pair weren't due to return for two more days, but there were members of the Paparazzi who had decided to camp out in the vacant lot across the street anyway, suspecting that the short-tempered couple just might cut the Honeymoon short. They were rewarded for their patience by the story of the year. For the next hour, Bulma fielded their questions and even did a few short interviews, figuring at this point that the Briefs name could use some positive exposure.
She was starting to lose her voice by the time the media hounds released her and she wearily entered the house. All she wanted to do was get Trunks settled, wrap her arms around her husband, and go to bed. What she found when she entered the living room was almost enough to make her run screaming back out into the courtyard.
The entire living area of the headquarters building was a shambles. There were dents in the walls, the wallpaper was ripped and torn, the ceiling fan was partially ripped out of its fixture and had a serious lean. The bookcases along the far wall were all upset and there were piles of shredded paper and ripped books littering the carpet, which had a number of suspicious stains that Bulma had never seen before. The lamps were all broken and the plasma screen TV was hanging crookedly on the wall, dripping what looked like pudding from one corner.
The furniture looked battered and worn with several gouges in the rich fabric that were oozing puffs of stuffing. The reason was clear when she watched Trunks force himself against the backrest of the loveseat and catapult over to the sofa. Back and forth he went, gradually gaining altitude with each bounce.
"Vegeta, what's he doing?" she asked the Saiyan. His head was ticking back and forth like a spectator at a tennis game as he watched the boy.
"I think he's trying to fly," he answered.
"How-how old were you when you..."
"Four years," he said, locking eyes with her and raising his eyebrows. "For some reason, he's developed the instinct early. Probably because we were separated from him." He looked around the demolished living room in amazement before something else caught his eye and he wandered away.
"You wanted to come and join mommy and daddy on their vacation, did you?" Bulma asked sweetly, catching the boy in one of his leaps and spinning him around until he was releasing shrill giggles of pure glee. "You DO realize that this will all be coming out of your allowance, don't you Trunks?"
"What the hell-?" she heard Vegeta choke out and turned to look over at him.
He was investigating the 55-gallon freshwater aquarium that she had bought for him last year. She had read in her psychiatric journals that fish tanks were supposed to be calming to highly stressed people and had tried it on a lark, not figuring that he would have anything to do with it. Not only had the Saiyan taken to the hobby, he was fast becoming an enthusiast and there were several even larger tanks spread out in key locations around the Headquarters building. He was starting to experiment with salt water and coral reef tanks but this first one was his favorite. "What happen to my fish?" he asked no one in particular. The water was curiously empty.
"Fishys- YUM!" Trunks gurgled.
"You ate them!" Vegeta screamed.
"Uh, I think it's bedtime for you, young man," Bulma said, quickly heading for the stairs.
"I paid over a hundred thousand zeni for that albino Arowana, and that little brat ate it!" he bellowed after the two. "And my two Luohans were a breeding pair. She was getting ready to spawn – AGH! And my platinum Cross back-!"
"You are in sooo much trouble," Bulma muttered while below, in the living room, the Saiyan continued his inconsolable raving.
Trying to get the baby settled was an exercise in frustration. He was too excited about his parents' return and not even a bath and a story was enough to calm him down (it wouldn't be until the next day, when her mother returned from the hospital, that Bulma found out the boy had eaten a gallon of coffee ice cream after supper). He finally settled into a twitchy doze at about four in the morning and Bulma walked out of the room on her tiptoes in hopes of not waking him.
Then, from the bedroom: "DAMN IT! He ate these too!"
"MOMMAAAH!" Trunks wailed.
"SHIT!" Bulma cried in the hallway, wrapping her hands in her hair and almost pulling it out in frustration. This situation was starting to make their suffering in Antarctica look appealing. She stomped into the bedroom and found Vegeta fretting over his newest acquisitions; only two yellow Tangs were left and one had a bite mark out of its dorsal fin. "That little bastard-"
"I just got him settled and you woke him up!" Bulma yelled at him.
"But-" He started frantically gesturing at his salt-water tank.
"Screw the fish! I'm exhausted and he's hyper and mom's hurt and the house is a wreak and you're mad and-and-" Without warning she burst into tears and flew into him arms, sobbing inconsolably. Down the hall, Trunks' screaming was assuming an almost hysterical pitch.
Vegeta's arms tightened around his bride while he stared at his decimated fish tank in dismay. "Some welcome home THIS was," he grumbled under his breath, all traces of the incident at Dende's Lookout completely forgotten.
"THE HONEYMOON IS OVER": That was the glaring headline of the Western Capital's main paper, the Clarion, above a photo of the newlyweds facing off against the police. Even taking his poor eyesight into account, Vegeta didn't have to hold that at arms length to read it, not that he wanted to anyway. He wordlessly passed it across the table to his bride and went back to eating his breakfast, privately nursing a throbbing headache.
Bulma had her head propped up on one arm as she ate her cereal and didn't even give it a glance, slapping it facedown on the table. "Can you pass the butter?" she asked, her voice painfully hoarse, and he nudged the container in her direction without comment.
Beside them, Trunks was dozing in his high chair with Cheerios drying on his round cheeks. He was still clutching onto a spoon with a death grip in his right hand, and holding onto his empty bowl with the other. It was the first time that he had been quiet since they had returned and, as if sharing the same thought, both parents looked over and passed the boy a resentful glare.
Mrs. Briefs flounced into the dining room, her left arm in a sling, and picked up the discarded paper. "Oh dear, I don't think that this will go in the scrapbook," she remarked gravely, reading the headline.
Bulma raised her head. "Mother, why didn't you tell me-"
"Us, tell us," Vegeta corrected forcibly.
"-'Us' that Trunks was completely out of control? We would have rushed right back."
The blonde looked at her as if she didn't understand the question. "And interrupt your honeymoon? Not a chance! Trunks was just an adorable little baby! Maybe just a tad hyper, but nothing we couldn't handle."
"'Couldn't handle'? The doctor said that dad is on the verge of a nervous breakdown! He wants to keep him in the hospital for the rest of the week!"
"Well, Trunks was a bit too much for him to handle. He is getting on in years, Bulma. I'm sure that the rest will do him some good. As for the house, the damage is minor-"
"Minor-" Vegeta half rose out of his chair and Bulma had to grab onto his arm and haul him back down.
As if she hadn't been interrupted, her mother babbled on; "-and besides, the living room could use a much needed makeover anyway. Perhaps that adorable Ty Pennington from that popular television show could give me some pointers. He called two days ago, you know-"
Bulma looked at her sharply. "He- What? Are you serious?"
"Who?" Vegeta asked, frowning.
"Absolutely! What a wonderful person! He offered to do up a newlywed suite for you and Vegeta for free! And some fellow named Mr. Burnett wants to talk about a possible reality show starring the two of you. Isn't that just incredible? Also, Oprah called, and Dr. Phil, and Tyra Banks, what a sweet woman-"
"Who?" Vegeta asked again.
"You two are famous!" Mrs. Briefs gushed, as she began clearing away the table with her one good arm. "The phone has been ringing off of the hook ever since the day you left. Every news station, talk show, newspaper, magazine, fan club, and interest group is trying to get an exclusive interview with you two."
"You hear that, stud?" Bulma elbowed her husband. "You have fans!"
"Uhm," he muttered, snatching a piece of toast from a plate before Mrs. Briefs made off with the dishes into the kitchen.
When the blonde returned, she brought back armload of letters and dropped them in front of her daughter. "These are for you, dear," she said and returned to the kitchen.
"Wow! They love me, they all love me!" Bulma cried, tearing through the letters like a maniac.
Mrs. Briefs came back wrestling with a full garbage bag. "And Vegeta sweetie, these are all for you, dear!" she said and emptied the bag full of letters, manila envelopes, postcards, gifts, and trinkets on the table in front of him. She kissed his cheek and danced off into the living room, starting to clean up the mess of broken pottery and ripped paper while humming happily to herself.
Bulma glanced over at the huge pile and then to her husband. He looked back, adding his trademark cocky smirk. "Oh, shut up," she mumbled, slumping back into her seat, all previous enthusiasm gone.
The newlyweds were swiftly absorbed back into their various routines that they'd had prior to the wedding, although they had to make more than a few concessions. Vegeta could no longer enjoy his morning runs in the nearby park without being hassled by reporters and camera crews and had to fly out to the country to be left alone. He also assumed full responsibility for keeping a firm eye on Trunks and resuming his role as trainer and disciplinarian (as far as being a 'loving father' was concerned: Fuck that. He was still too pissed about his fish). His days were spent with the boy (much to Bulma's parents' inconceivable relief) and after supper, he returned to the simulator with a vengeance, eager to make up for twelve days of roaming around the planet. As charming as a diversion that the sightseeing and rutting had been, it had done little for his gravity training and he had to actively work himself back up to his previous limits.
Bulma was unprepared for the surge of popularity in Capsule Corporation products and she was hip-deep in paperwork from the moment she resumed the role as President. Ever the opportunist, she would have been insane not to take advantage of the renewed attention and her days were spent with marketing executives, fashion designers, automobile companies, and giving interviews. It initially ticked her off that people had more interest in Vegeta than her, and were often disappointed when they discovered that she was the only one who would talk to them. She supposed that she could understand. The Saiyan was a complete mystery and if there was any diversion that all humans shared, it was the desire to solve a mystery. By being uncooperative, Vegeta was actually doing the company a favor and inadvertently prolonging the interest.
For the next two weeks straight, the pair rarely saw one another during the day, if at all. And at night, one was usually asleep in the bed before the other one appeared, too exhausted to do anything more...
At the beginning of the third week, Vegeta exited his gravity simulator at about four in the afternoon with a towel slung over one shoulder and Trunks slung over the other. The boy had forgotten most of his kata while his parents had been on their honeymoon and Vegeta had to teach him all over again. Each day, he showed the boy new steps and today was the first day the youth had executed the complete routine, not once but twice. The baby was completely exhausted and that was exactly how Vegeta wanted him to be. Even Bulma's parents could hardly believe the turnabout in Trunks' behavior; no more wanton destruction of the house, no more bratty outbursts, and a much calmer demeanor. Up until the honeymoon, her parents had thought all of the training to be excessively harsh to such a small child but now they realized that the Saiyan hybrid actually craved the activity.
Standing in the shade of the simulator, Vegeta closed his eyes and savored the warmth of the still air and the quite lull of afternoon traffic. He stayed that way for several minutes before his battle sense picked up something small rapidly approaching and he snatched a capsule out of the air even before he had opened his eyes.
"Nice catch," Bulma remarked, walking across the lawn towards him in her bare feet. She was wearing her dress skirt and blouse, with her blazer casually slung over one shoulder and her shoes dangling from her hand. "It looked like you were half asleep."
"And beaning me side of the head with a capsule was how you intended to wake me up?" he asked her, half miffed and half joking.
"Oh, I knew you'd catch it," she dismissed, pulling Trunks off of his shoulder to hold him. The boy didn't even rouse. "Pop it open and take a look."
"What is it?"
"Your jeep, silly. I had the garage repair it."
He pressed the lever and threw it to the side and when the smoke cleared, he said, "That is NOT my jeep."
"I let the boys pimp your ride," she said happily. "Everything under the hood is still the same. They just went wild on the styling, is all."
Vegeta's shoulders sagged with more than just weariness and he had to actually squint as the late afternoon's suns rays reflected off of the highly polished chrome which was, it seemed, everywhere; The bumpers, the rims, the roll bar, around the windows. They had taken all of the dents out, which the Saiyan thought added character to the old vehicle, and painted it dark blue with elaborate gold and white pin striping along the sides. The interior had been replaced with white leather and there was a sound system installed in the dash that appeared, when really cranked up, to be able to broadcast to Mars. The only thing that he ever used it for was to get the weather.
When the Saiyan's silence stretched on, Bulma asked tentatively, "Don't you like it?"
"It's fine," he sighed. At the very worst, he supposed, it could have been painted yellow like everything else at Capsule Corporation.
"I knew you'd like it," she said. "I cleared my schedule for tonight. You can take me for a ride."
"No, I'm training tonight."
"Really?" she stuck her bottom lip out in a pout as she sashayed up beside him. "We both have been sooo busy-"
"I like being busy."
"But it's not the really fun way of being busy. All we've been doing is working, or training, and... I'm lonely, Vegeta."
"Woman, you're surrounded by people all bloody day long."
"I work with them, sure, but I don't-" she checked to see if Trunks was awake, or dozing, and silently mouthed a word that immediately caught Vegeta's attention, "-them. I only want to-" she mouthed that word again, "-you. I want to feel your thick, hard-" her lips moved deliberately around the harsh consonant, "-deep in my wet-" her tongue peeked out as she teased him with that forbidden word, "and I want to feel that tonight."
"...What time?" Vegeta found himself asking, his voice sounded very different from its usual blunt tone.
"After supper."
He gave her an absent nod, his mind still filling in the gaps of her description and exciting him more with every variation he came up with. When she gave him a grateful kiss, her tongue slipped into his mouth like a playful snake, and he began reaching for her until she slipped away.
"Tonight," she said, carrying Trunks into the house. "I promise."
Blinking dully like a man coming out of a dream, he absently wondered how the woman managed to manipulate him so easily. He was still puzzling over it when he turned and ran straight into Mrs. Briefs. She had been doing yard work all afternoon and was meticulously tending to her roses.
She raised her floppy hat in greeting and spouted out; "Hello Vegeta. My goodness! Is that a weed-whacker in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
Looking down, Vegeta realized that Bulma's dirty whispered innuendos had given him a raging hard-on; plainly visible in the tight spandex shorts he wore. He immediately flushed bright crimson, unable to even come up with a retort, and phased out of sight in a desperate retreat.
Mrs. Briefs continued on her way as if she had never even been interrupted, sighing, "If only I were ten years younger..."
Despite an elaborate main course of lamb chops and sautéed Chinese vegetables, Vegeta hardly tasted the meal as he kept his gaze trained solely on his bride. Bulma was seated across the table from him wearing one of her micro-mini skirts, that enough was to drive him wild, but she was also wearing a sheer silk blouse that left little to the imagination. Because her parents were also at the table, she had a shawl around her shoulders, but the Saiyan, from his vantage point, could plainly see that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her strutted nipples were practically poking him in the face.
For what seemed like an eternity, the meal went on until Bulma finally put her fork down and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "That was incredible, mom. What's for dessert?"
"You are," Vegeta said, jumping to his feet. He walked swiftly around the table and pulled Bulma to her feet. "Let's get going."
"Wow! Somebody's impatient tonight," Bulma giggled as she tried to keep up with the anxious Saiyan. She waved good-bye to Trunks and her stunned parents. "Have a good night, every-" her words were cut off as Vegeta slammed the front door.
Mr. And Mrs. Briefs shared an astonished blink of surprise and then turned a fearful gaze over to Trunks. It was the first time that they had been left alone with the baby since his parents' return.
As if sensing the attention, the boy stopped eating long enough to flash them a cunning grin.
"Oh no," Dr. Briefs groaned, clutching his napkin. "Not again..."
"You do know that it drives me nuts when you pull that cockteasing routine of yours," Vegeta grated from between clenched teeth as he drove them out of the city limits.
"I know," she said with a small smile.
"Then why the hell do you do it?"
"Because you like it."
He whipped his head around to stare at her. "I do NOT enjoy struggling to keep my dick in my pants when your parents are seated right next to me. Are you crazy?" He passed her an impatient wave. "Don't answer that. I already know the answer."
"Hey!"
"Where are we going anyway?"
She crossed her arms. "It's not far, just a ways up the mountain. I'll tell you where to go," she said, flashing him a sidelong glare.
"Uhm," he grunted, returning the look.
The jeep easily navigated the twists and turns of the steep slope and, at her instruction; he pulled off and drove down a dirt road not easily seen from the paved highway. From there, he turned onto a woodlot trail that went deep into the thick forest. "Damn it, woman!" he cursed, putting the jeep into 4-wheel drive to navigate the muddy ruts and heavy brush that had grown over the rarely used path. "Will you tell me where the hell we're going?"
"You'll know when we get there," she just said mysteriously, smiling.
He drove until he came to a fallen tree that completely blocked their path. When he started to get out to move it, she pulled out a blanket from the backseat and touched his arm. "Don't bother. We're almost there. We can walk the rest of the way."
"Walk where?" he almost shouted.
"It's not far," was all she would say and turned on a flashlight, walking purposely away.
He didn't like this and spared the foreboding timber an unsettled glance. He had never been comfortable in places he didn't know and Bulma's strange behavior was wearing on his already strained nerves. The black trees loomed over him and there were unseen creatures lurking in the depths, far beyond his vision. He could sense their presence and unknown agenda. There was the furtive snapping of brush nearby and some...thing with glowing eyes settled on a branch overhead and hooted, startling him.
No, he didn't like this one little bit, but despite his misgivings he followed after Bulma just the same.
"We're here!" Bulma announced as they stepped out of the thick woods into a small, grassy clearing. The tree line ended on either side giving them a perfect, unobstructed view of the valley from where they could see the shining lights of the Western Capital.
"You had me drive you all the way out here when we could have gone to a hotel or someplace comfortable?" Vegeta couldn't believe it.
"You can be more appreciative. I spent the last two weeks looking for a perfect spot before I finally found this one. It's all about the view. Look over there!" she pointed to the right and there he finally saw it, struggling to rise as if it were pulling itself free from the ocean depths itself.
The moon.
It was the wish that Bulma had made at Dende's Lookout. The thing that she missed the most; the object of ancient worship by druids and that most sought-after of romantic icons by couples and lovers worldwide. Tonight the moon was full and bloated, looking enormous on the horizon and tinged slightly by nature's orange brush.
"Oh," Vegeta said in surprise. He had seen the holographic projections that the Capital used to project every night, it had been nothing spectacular and his body could tell it was an imposter even before his eyes confirmed it. These last two weeks he had noted the difference as the restored moon ran slowly through its phases. There had been many a time when he had exited the gravity simulator late at night and just stared at it with deep longing. His was a shape changing were-race that had a secret pact with the moon that went deeper than blood and bones. It used to be a celebration of the night that the Saiyans would enjoy no matter which world they were on; changing into Oozarus to destroy, murder, and breed.
This was the first time that he stood under the Earth's full moon without his tail, but he could still feel its power. He had to close his eyes as his entire body was seized by a shiver that raced up his spine and throughout his limbs like an electric shock, making his entire body break out in sweat and excited goose-flesh. His heart practically leapt from his chest and began beating rapidly. He gripped his head and released a strangled growl.
"Vegeta?" Bulma asked timidly.
"I... can feel it," he managed to say, trying to get his rapid breathing under control. "I can't turn Oozaru without my tail, but I can still feel the light. It-it's everywhere!" he turned to look at her and she released a cry of shock, taking a fearful step back.
His eyes had transformed into two glowing silver disks and his hair had finally, completely, grown back to its prior, flame-styled length. He was breathing quickly, his breath coming out in swift pants, and she could see that his canines had grown, just enough to be noticeable. "You – Vegeta, you're changing-"
"No more than this," he told her quickly. "I have it under control," he closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he stared at her again, they had lost their supernatural luster. "It just... caught me by surprise. You should have warned me that this was what you had planned."
"I didn't know you would react so strongly to it," she confessed in a small voice.
"I didn't either," he responded honestly, inspecting his hands. He could have sworn that his nails had grown. "I'm a Saiyan, but tonight was the first time in a very long while that I've actually felt like one." He actually smiled over at her and she realized that he wasn't angry with her; it was just the opposite. Her slip of the tongue on Dende's Lookout had given him a very special gift, one that he wouldn't have thought to communicate to Shenron.
Relieved, Bulma laid out the blanket and the pair sat down to watch the moon rise, its luster gaining brilliance as it began its inexorable ascent. Snuggling close to the Saiyan, she detected a change in his scent that went deeper than deodorant, soap or shampoo. There was a musky, rangy undertone to it that was not entirely unpleasant, reminding her of some wild animal; a leftover of his reaction to the moonlight. Gradually, she began to search for more of that heady scent, unbuttoning his shirt while tracing her tongue along his neck and shoulder, drinking up the combination of his smell intermingled with her saliva.
Initially transfixed by the sight of the moon, Bulma's efforts were beginning to rekindle his earlier lust. He felt slightly light-headed, almost drunk from the light shining overhead, and he finally turned to the sole creature fortunate enough to be sharing this very special night with him. Who, in fact, was responsible for all of it.
Enormously grateful, he parted the buttons of her blouse and kissed her chest tantalizingly close to her nipples. He knew from the first time they had lied together how sensitive her breasts were and he drew each of the erect little buds slowly into his mouth in turn, sucking on them and then biting them, hard enough to provoke a spasm of pleasure through her without being too painful.
She moaned and sighed as he unselfishly brought her pleasure, giving him gentle nips of encouragement along his neck and collarbone as she guided his hand down between her legs. He groaned at what his fingers found; her panties were soaked with readiness. Tugging the fabric aside, he slid one finger into her opening, then two, rubbing them against her vibrating button, causing her to buck and churn against him.
When he could stand no more, he leaned her back on the blanket, urgently fumbling with his belt and finally tugging his pants down over his hips, freeing his straining member. Running his hands over the sensual curves of her thighs, he positioned himself between them missionary style. Her legs parted fully as she drew them slightly up, bent, allowing him full access to the parted lips of her womanhood. Gasping, she felt the wide head of his shaft tenderly probe her warmth, teasing her with its size, and she arched her back, communicating her readiness with impatient whimpers.
He leaned over her on his hands, and slid easily into her just as nature intended, as if they were designed for each other, relishing the face-to-face intimacy. With his shirt open he got to feel her hard little nipples spearing his muscular chest. She raised her knees higher, passed her hands up under the back of his shirt and pulled him down to meet her open mouth, her strong, white teeth slowly nibbling at the tip of his tongue.
Her clothes were a total mess, her panties dangling around her ankle, her skirt bunched up around her waist, blouse tangled under her back, her hair in her face, but she was magical in the moonlight, swollen with femininity just like the moon: the roundness of her breasts and face, the softness of her cheeks and lips, clinging to him like shadow, biting his lips and begging him to do it harder, faster.
He rose up to get more leverage and was over her on his knees and forearms, resting on his elbows. He saw that look on her face, heard the desperation in her voice and felt those sharp nails digging into his back. Responding to that wanton need, he squeezed her breasts in his hands, smothering her face with his kisses and sucking the cries from her mouth as his hips rose and fell like a jack hammer, spearing his bloated lance into her, overcome with love and lust.
Bulma's hands went from his face to his back to gripping his arms, impatient with growing urgency when she suddenly said, "Wait Vegeta! Stop!"
With a surprised grunt, he reared up on his arms and looked around, thinking she'd seen someone. He saw nothing but moonlit surroundings, all tinged with silver and blue. She put her hands on his face, her eyes catching the light overhead and transforming them into glowing jewels. Smiling broadly, she pointed up to the full moon that hung perfectly over them, the only witness to this act of lovemaking. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked breathlessly. "It wasn't a wasted wish, was it? The moon?"
Hesitating, Vegeta considered her words with far more control than the situation called for. He was levered up over her, sinking even deeper into the throbbing wetness of her womanhood, her knees up against his ribs, surrounded by the quiet of the moonlit night, the stars above and the crickets in the bushes. This was all so overwhelming; far beyond his experiences that only involved periods of mind-numbing violence, sadism and torture, and the extreme boredom of patrolling the empty expanse of space. It seemed such a simple question on the surface but she was asking for so much more; seeking approval, an assurance that he had no lingering animosity over having the wish usurped.
"No," he managed to say. "It wasn't wasted." His passion just exploded inside of him like a bomb and he fell on top of her, kissing and licking her sweat-streaked face, overwhelmed with feelings that he was unable to articulate. It was a perfect wish, he wanted to say. And yes, it's beautiful: the moon, the night, you, your pussy, your tits, everything I feel tonight. All perfect because of you!
But words failed him, not that he could have said any of that to her anyway, because at that point he was just too desperate to lose himself inside of her, to let himself explode, let his oceans flow and flood her moonlit fields. She was clinging to him and telling him to give it to her, to let her have it, every drop, because on this special night she was particularly vocal. Her orgasms came like contractions, minutes, if not seconds apart; with each she screamed though clenched teeth, then panted for breath before yet another, more violent quake rolled though her. He kept himself jammed to the hilt inside of her as he held her and then spurted out his shuddering release deep into her darkness while his entire being was seized with those whole-body spasms of ejaculatory release.
When the orgasmic frenzy finally passed, he hovered over her, his muscular chest heaving and his abs rippling with his heavy breathing. Beads of sweat dripped off his forehead. Slowly, he drew himself up her lithe body, hands uncurling gently from about her thighs, feeling her body still quivering from the aftermath of her own pleasure. Her hands came up under his jaw line, and with softened low whimpers, she drew him close to kiss him sweetly, lovingly, while her hands fluttered around his neck and shoulders like the wings of a dove.
The moon continued its journey across the sky, and still the lovers remained joined together. They each should have felt oddly exposed lying out doors and having the warm night air touch their bare flesh, but there was something that felt vaguely familiar about it too, as if they'd both done this in another lifetime or dimension. The field around them shimmered under that magical buttery light and the lights of the Capital below seemed surreal.
Bulma nuzzled her husband's firm chest and felt his arms tighten around her in response. She felt deliriously happy and content, as if all the decisions and actions of the last thirty-five years of her life had driven her to experience this one precise moment. The weather, the timing, the location; all perfect. She didn't want it to end, she wanted this moment to last forever, but it was unrealistic. Even the moon had to move on, eventually.
In the silence, she could feel the pulse of her lover's heavy thoughts and she studied his face very carefully. "What are you thinking about, Vegeta?"
He seemed absorbed in watching the Capital and didn't answer her right away. Finally, he pulled back a little to stare down at her; his eyes were piercing and mysterious.
"Before we were interrupted by your loser friends in the rainforest," he said to her, his voice a soft purr in the night, "I was trying to describe how you made me feel. The words still fail me, but I've realized that there are other ways to tell you..." Usually, he kept his thoughts guarded from her, allowing only the odd word or image to escape but in this moment, he finally dropped the wall and she caught a glimpse of what lied beyond. It was intended only for her.
"Oh!" she gasped in surprise.
It was a gift more amazing than even the diamond he had given her; more beautiful than anything she had ever seen or done. She was seeing herself from Vegeta's perspective: The first time on Namek while she had been cheering on Zarbon (and yes, he was deliberately drawing the battle out while thinking that she was a spitfire and gorgeous to boot... for a human). The sight of her face as he hauled himself from the ruins of a destroyed gravity simulator (she was brilliantly pissed off and- damn! – if it didn't always please him when he managed to get a rise out of her). When she had rushed to his side after he collapsed from the V'Nhar, there had been a halo around her head that night (like those angel-creatures humans liked to talk about. Is that what she really is?). Dying in her arms in a crowded airport, her face tear-streaked and inconsolable (tears, and for me no less... I think I'll actually miss her). Finally, the sight of her in her wedding dress as she stepped up to the dais where he stood with the minister. She had been... perfection (lover, soul mate, best friend, wife. None of these words are worthy of her. She makes me feel alive. She is my life. How do I put that to words she can understand?).
"You don't have to say anything," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I understand everything. I think I always have from the moment I first laid eyes on you."
He passed her a bewildered shake of the head. "I don't know how that's possible."
"Possible or not, it's happened, Vegeta. Don't try to puzzle it out. Fate, destiny, love... There are forces at work here that are bigger than the both of us and you can't ignore the result: We're together-"
-Until death do us part, she heard him whisper in the back of his mind.
"Precisely," she murmured, and leaned into him again, kissing him urgently.
Passing aloft overhead in its eternal chase of the sun, the full moon regarded the lovers with its single, impassive eye. It had witnessed the creation of the world, species emerging and becoming extinct, civilizations rising and falling, and- on this very special night- the union of two very unique people bonding under its ancient, magical light. It would continue to regard the two, as the days turned to months and eventually to years, shining over a couple that would stay united while overcoming all manner of obstacles and forces that would seek to drive them apart. It would observe that not even death itself would be able to separate them.
But right now, the moon moved along on its relentless voyage, well aware of a pact that it now shared with a certain Saiyan prince: Both saved from the depths of darkness and oblivion by single human woman.
Both saved by her love.
THE END.
Thanks to all of the Readers who stood faithfully by this story (you know who you are). I hope that I didn't let you down!