Vegeta watched as the workers inspected the outside panel of the spaceship. There were three of them, all wearing the familiar Capsule Corp., uniform, rubbing their chins and cocking their heads as they tried to figure out how to fix the ship.

If Vegeta had known it was going to take this much effort to fix, he probably wouldn't have broken it in the first place. But he was desperate for Bulma's attention at the time, and somewhat pathetically was willing to work against his own self interests for her to notice him.

After their kiss, Vegeta got the hell out of dodge. He left her room and immediately took off toward the desert, channeling the burning desire he had for her into energy blasts. He stayed up all night beating his body into a pulp, and even as the sun rose above the horizon, pushed himself to even higher levels. All day he channeled his unbridled lust into energy, slicing down rock and pocking the earth with craters.

It was only until a whole other night had passed that he finally felt tired enough to return. Hopefully, his body so beaten and his stomach growling so wildly, he could ward off dreams of the temptress.

He dragged himself home before daybreak. As he drifted through the sky, he thought of nothing. That was the blissfulness of hard training: A blank mind, the desire to sleep, the lull of starting it all over again.

But before he took off for his room, he found himself watching the workers. They were already shuffling around the ship as he landed on the front lawn. Despite all the odd behavior at Capsule Corp., none of them ever seemed to blink an eye. Whatever Dr. Briefs was paying them must've been a hell of a lot, because they never seemed to notice–or care–that Vegeta could fly or send energy blasts from his hands. They went on their merry way, blissfully unconcerned by the strange goings on at their workplace.

The sun was now firmly in the sky, and Vegeta turned his attention toward the house. Some food first, he decided, then maybe a bit of sleep. He walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, his stomach grumbling, when he almost ran straight into her. Dark circles encased Bulma's eyes. Right as their bodies nearly collided, they both jumped back.

"Oh, Vegeta," Bulma said, startled. "I didn't see you there, I'm sorry."

"It's alright." He shifted awkwardly.

A strained silence came between them. Both were clearly exhausted, both unsure of what to say after their searing kiss. Vegeta fought back the urge to scoop her up in his arms, take her to his room and ravage her as the sun came up.

"I looked for you yesterday," she said, blushing. "I…where did you go?"

"Training." Vegeta said quickly. Bulma waited for him to say more and when he didn't, she just nodded her head.

Truth was, there was more Vegeta wanted to say. He was never a man with a silver tongue. Emotions were much harder to process than the desire to blow something up, and standing in front of her, he so wished he had the gift of smooth talk. Her eyes flitted up to his before she nervously brushed a piece of loose hair behind her ear.

"Okay, well," Bulma rolled back on her heel. "I guess I'll go."

"Right," Vegeta said softly, disappointment swirling through him. He passed her and headed into the kitchen, kicking himself for not taking her up against the wall at that very moment. As soon as he reached the doorway, he heard Bulma charging back toward him.

"Hold on just a second, Vegeta." He could sense the annoyance in her voice. He turned to see a very cross Bulma, her arms firmly on her hips and her expression sour. "You're just going to leave for an entire day after what…after what happened between us and you're not even going to mention it?"

Vegeta was stunned. It wasn't a surprise that she was so forward–that was one of her most annoying characteristics after all, the way she loved to terrorize everyone with exactly what she thought and how she felt. But he was surprised at what kind of reaction it was eliciting now. Usually, he would roll his eyes as she took charge in every single scenario possible. Now, it made him want to rip her clothes off even more than before.

"Are you just going to stand there and look at me?"

He didn't know what to say. In all these years traipsing the universe, he had never once talked about his feelings. The thought alone made him wildly uncomfortable.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said gruffly, crossing his arms. She raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"Are you serious?" She stepped closer to him. "You don't know what I am talking about?"

"No." He tried to remain calm. "I don't."

Bulma could hardly believe it. First, out of nowhere, Vegeta decides to play protector against some random jerk at the bar. Then, suddenly, she realized how badly she wanted to have sex with him despite months of mutual warfare. And now–after they had kissed, and not just any kiss, one of the best kisses she's ever had in her life–he was pretending as if nothing happened.

She wanted off this rollercoaster ride. Vegeta either wanted her back or he didn't. If he wanted her the way she wanted him, she was going to make him admit it no matter the cost.

She stepped forward and placed her hands on his shoulders, slamming him against the wall. She leaned in, kissing him deeply and wildly, letting her hands graze his shoulders and up his neck. It was even better than she remembered. His lips tasted like salt and he smelled so masculine, so musky…

Pressing her tongue even farther, Vegeta caught it with his own. His hands grabbed her hips and ground her into him. His fingers grazed down her back until he found her ass. Firm and round, he pawed at her through her sweatpants. Between them, his erection pulsated.

Teeth clashed with tongue, moans escaped them both, and Vegeta picked her up to trade places. Now she was pressed between the wall and him, her back arching so her hips pressed into him even harder. If it was hard to fight her temptation before, it was nearly impossible now.

His mouth left hers, and he dragged his tongue along her jawline and neck. Each new part of flesh he explored, he nipped her with his teeth, drawing our insatiable moans from her lips.

"Vegeta," she breathed. He didn't respond, instead caressing her ass and hips, his fingers moving closer and closer to her center. She was so wet with desire and he knew it.

"Vegeta," she tried again, finally eliciting a grunt from the Saiyan. "Wait, just wait."

He stopped, still gripping her by her thighs, and looked at her. She wanted to swim in his expression: One so full of lust, she thought he might explode. "Did that refresh your memory?"

All of the remaining blood in Vegeta's head rushed straight to his stomach, making it turn in disgust. Had she just played some bizarre game of mental chess with her? She pushed back, causing Vegeta to gently let her go as she regained her footing. Clearing her throat and straightening her hair, she moved away from him, her eyes grazing the floor.

"So, I'll see you later?" She said softly as she hurried down the hallway.

Vegeta remained standing there for several minutes, his head spinning and his cock throbbing.


For her credit, it was an effective plan.

Peeling herself away from Vegeta as he had her pressed up against the hallway wall was an act of complete and utter control. As much as she wanted to let him take her right there, there were several reasons that wasn't a good idea. The first–and possibly most obvious–was that at any point someone could come bumbling around the corner. It was breakfast time after all.

The second: It appeared in the ongoing war between her and Vegeta, he was resorting to emotional manipulation. He "forgot" their kiss? Sure. Sure he did. It made Bulma seethe with rage to see him so cool, calm and collected as she brought it up, as if he was more than happy to ignore it. But she most certainly could not.

Avoiding mentioning it was one thing, but blatantly denying it to her–after she stripped herself in front of him, both literally and figuratively–was another. Two could play at that game. So she shoved him up against the wall and kissed him.

After an ice cold shower, a few hours of sleep and several cups of coffee, she was back in the living world and feeling mighty satisfied with herself. A kiss like that was bound to make the Saiyan prince want even more of her. With the chip done, she made her way out to the spaceship to start on repairs.

Imagine her surprise when she made her way to the lawn, the afternoon sun hanging in the sky, and she saw a familiar face. Floating in the air was Vegeta. In his hand was a wrench and below a worker was instructing him which bolt to turn.

"I didn't know you cared to help us," Bulma smiled smugly. Vegeta glanced at her for a split second before returning his sights to the spaceship's open panel.

"I don't," Vegeta quickly countered. "You were taking too long."

Bulma smiled to herself.

"We're almost done, actually," one of the workers said as he wiped his grease stained hands on a rag. "Thanks to Vegeta here, we've gotten a lot done."

"How long has he been out here helping you?" Bulma asked, watching as Vegeta went back to work.

"Oh, I'd say for the last three or four hours."

Bulma was positively smug and Vegeta knew it. He flinched upon seeing the grin snaked across her face and focused on the task at hand. The worker below–Hiro, Vegeta reminded himself–continued to instruct on what to do. Vegeta pulled the notch tighter, using a touch so light he even surprised himself.

"Alright, that'll do it!" Hiro said gleefully. "Man, with you being able to, uh, jump up that high it saves us a lot of time coming up and down a ladder."

"Don't mention it," Vegeta grunted, his eyes purposefully avoiding Bulma.

In truth, he had not intended to help Hiro and his crew. But after attempting to eat and failing (his stomach was too tied up in knots) and attempting to sleep and failing (his erection kept him wide, wide awake) he gave up on relaxing and started bumbling around the house. That's when he saw Hiro teetering on top of a ladder looking positively moronic. If he helped them fix the machine, he thought, he could actually use it. In fact, he could lock himself in there and avoid Bulma for days at a time.

As soon as they put him to work, he realized he was a bit in over his head. Each direction from Hiro or one of the guys was met with a slew of questions. The what goes to where? So I turn it left or right? It was like being in Frieza's boot camp all over again, minus the looming threat of death hanging over his head.

With each panel he helped fix, the more he realized just how smart Bulma was. He learned about orbital maneuvering system engines, propulsion engine wiring and reaction control systems. He learned that hundreds of thousands of wires connected each piece of this gigantic machine to a simple control panel at the ship's front, and that an electric anchor acted as the machine's simulated gravity rotator. As much as he hated admitting it, he was truly impressed. She built this all in her mind, understanding the ins and outs of a machine so powerful it propelled people into space.

Of course, he would never admit that. Not while she looked on with such delight.

"Well boys, you guys can call it a day." Bulma's hands were on her hips, striking a pose that Vegeta almost thought looked like a victory stance. He came back to the ground and charged ahead, ignoring Hiro and his team securing their tools. Before he got past Bulma, though, she stepped out in front of him.

"Not so fast." She swung out her hand. He skidded to a stop. "Vegeta, I'm impressed that you were this thoughtful."

"Don't read too much into this, woman." He crossed his arms and leaned back. "This is an act of charity."

Her grin grew two times as large. He hated it.

"First you protect me against a creep and now you're helping with repairs," she said in a sing-song voice. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you might have a little crush on me."

A crush? He was familiar with the term–as there was only so much training a man could do, so eventually he resorted to watching television–but that was not what he felt. Not in the slightest. He laughed. "Don't test your luck."

The workers shuffled past the two, their eyes darting between their boss and the strange man living on the compound. They tipped their hats and scurried away, peeking over their shoulders as the two stood in silence. Each scrambled inside the laboratory, their eyes as wide as saucers.

"Don't be shy, Vegeta," she goaded him. "If you like me, you can just admit it and we can move on. I mean, what's not to like about me? Beautiful, brilliant–"

"Humble," Vegeta interjected. She chuckled, leaning in closer to him.

"Just admit it, Vegeta." She stepped closer. "You like me."

This was her victory. In their war of hating each other, she wanted to come out on top, to get the Saiyan prince to bend a knee to her. This was all definitive proof that he did not, in fact, hate her the way he pretended to. That all of his rough and tumble bad boy act was a mask hiding sensitive, human emotions. The thought alone made her salivate.

He had to squash this. Yes, in some ways he did have a crush. In other ways, she drove him so crazy it bordered on the edge of madness. Whatever these feelings were bubbling up in Vegeta were merely primal. He leaned in and she was taken aback.

"Let me say this one time and let me be clear." His voice was low and quiet, laced with a sexual energy that made Bulma squirm. "I don't like you. I actually dislike you substantially, and if I had my choice, I would be back in space conquering pathetic planets like I used to. But the fact of the matter is, I need to defeat Kakarot and I can't do that until these androids are dealt with."

It was partially true. When he first came to Capsule Corp., he did want to go back into space. The thought of crushing Kakarot was just too enticing, so much so he decided to stay behind and aid in his fight against Gero. For the past few weeks, the desire to stay chipped away at his itch to return to his position as a colonial warlord, largely in part because of her.

Instead he lay awake each night thinking about her and all the things he could do to her if just given a chance.

"Don't misconstrue the desire to love with the desire to fuck." His tongue elongated the word and sent a shiver down her spine. Was he being serious? All he wanted from her was sex? She wasn't buying it and she was about to call his bluff.

"Okay then, tough guy." She gently placed a finger on his chest and let it drag down the front of his armor. "Then fuck me."

This rendered him absolutely speechless. So speechless, in fact, when he did try to spit out a retort no sound came out at all.

"Tonight, my room, 11 p.m." She dropped her hand and turned on her heel, swaying her hips as she walked back toward the kitchen. "And don't be late."

Warfare of the murderous kind was Vegeta's forte. Carnal warfare, however, appeared to be hers.