AN: Warning - Like the title suggests, things are going to be heating up a bit in this chappie.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z, Super or GT or any of the associated characters that appear in this fanfic.

Chapter 5: If you can't take the heat...

Bulma wrapped up her morning work session by completing her final checks on Vegeta's training bot that she had been working on the past five weeks and then loaded it to the printer. The 3D printer estimated the completion time in four hours. Bulma checked her watch, noting the time at almost noon and rushed to the kitchens.

Upon arriving in the kitchen, Bulma noted that lunch was already out in a large spread on the dining table. Her mother was carrying the last of the dishes and set it down with a flourish. Panchy then proceeded to the kitchen door, opened it widely and switched the fan on via the remote lying on the kitchen counter. Bulma could practically see the scent wafting from the heavily laden dining table through the kitchen door and out towards the open Gravity Chamber. She watched with amusement as the inhabitants meditating on the lawn perk up and slowly raise themselves from their seated positions: the perfect Saiyan lure.

It was lunchtime, her favorite time of the day. Vegeta and Bra were now making their way over towards the kitchen and Bulma couldn't help the sigh that escaped her as she watched the shirtless Saiyan strut towards her with predatory intent, a light sheen of sweat covering his body. Of course, his desire was for the food laid out before her, but a girl can dream. Bra, of course always ate with them, but the Prince had previously been holed up in his training quarters making use of the previously stocked resources to see to all his needs. Drooling beside her, was none other than her own mother, and the two Briefs' ladies watched the spectacle with flushed faces. It had become their daily ritual, hers and her mother ever since the Gravity Chamber ran out of food and they found their family lunch-time pleasantly interrupted by the surly, hungry and oh so deliciously sweaty half-naked Saiyan Prince demanding sustenance. Since then, Pachy always endeavoured to have the best meals prepared and served by the time the Prince and half-saiyan teen took their lunch break, and Bulma always endeavored to be present to watch him come and claim it.

During the past five weeks, it had become more and more difficult, impossible even to deny her attraction to the Saiyan Prince. If it were purely physical, it would have been easier to ignore it, but Bulma found herself being drawn to Vegeta not only because he was hot as fuck and not at all shy about flaunting it, but also because of the glimpses she caught of him interacting with his future-self's daughter. She mostly saw them when they were outside of the Gravity Chamber, taking a break, but in those moments as she watched his lips quirk up in a half smile at something Bra saying, or outright laugh even. It caused a fluttering in her chest and a tightening in her loins. Even when he was serious, his brows furrowing as he explained something to an equally serious Bra listening with rapt attention, Bulma sometimes felt an acute sense of envy at the attention Bra received from him. She objectively knew that poor Bra was only trying to re-establish the bond that was lost with the death of her own father, but it didn't stop the jealousy pangs from appearing when she watched them. The situation was becoming dangerous, Bulma realised, especially since she didn't know if Vegeta reciprocated even half of what she was starting to feel for him… and Yamcha. She still hadn't resolved things with him ever since he left her lab all those weeks ago. He didn't call. She told him not to, but found herself truly surprised when after almost two months he hasn't even attempted to contact her. It usually didn't even take him a full week to show up with roses and chocolates after one of their spats, even if he wasn't the one at fault for the rift. Bulma found herself wondering if he too felt the inevitability of their end approaching.

She needed to end it, officially, because even if she could finally admit to herself that the romance between them had long since died, she was loath to lose him as a friend. All thoughts of Yamcha were soon banished as Vegeta entered the kitchen. Having already served herself, leaving her Saiyan guests free to go to town on the rest of the meal, Bulma was content to entertain herself cataloguing the various scars on Vegeta's body. She was intensely curious as to their origin, but since they hadn't said more than five civil words to one another since Bra arrived, it wasn't really an appropriate topic to bring up. She watched him until he stalked past her, Bra on his trail, and headed upstairs for a shower as was his usual routine ever since he started joining them for lunch. He was gone for less than 10 minutes before he emerged again, a clean training suit clinging to his still damp skin. Sometimes Bulma suspected that he knew about her secret attraction, and therefore went out of his way to bait her. Especially at times like this, when he stopped beside her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body and could smell his sandalwood and spice body-wash combined with an earthy musk that was uniquely him. It was a deeply masculine and provocative scent and Bulma had to restrain herself from leaning in to take a deeper breath. His hip almost touched her shoulder as he bent over to retrieve a plate and started piling it high with the foods closest to her end of the table. Bulma felt her body heat with every passing second he was in her personal space. She dared an upward glance, noting his stoic almost nonchalant expression. It annoyed her that her hormones could be so susceptible while he seemed to remain largely unaffected. She didn't know why, but she felt as if they were somehow competing in a battle of wills, and her asking him to quit crowding her would put her at a disadvantage and then he would have one up on her. So she kept her mouth shut and ignored his close proximity as she ignored her flaming face.

He finally moved away and Bulma released a relieved sigh. Bra arrived at the table soon after Vegeta took his seat. The remainder of lunch went past in silence as the Saiyans' focus was shifted completely to consuming massive amounts of the food that was laid out on the table. Bulma found herself, not for the first time, thanking her lucky stars that they were rich or else these aliens might have eaten them out of house and home already. Her thoughts suddenly went toward the Son household and Bulma felt a twinge of pity for the Ox Princess who was doing it all alone. Kami knows Goku probably wasn't any help outside of providing all the gigantic game.

"It must be super weird having your future daughter suddenly living with you." Yamcha stated, taking a sip of lemonade. They were sitting at the kitchen island and Yamcha was watching the two Saiyans spar on the grass.

It was more of a tutoring session, Bulma noted, as their most intense sparring was usually done in the Gravity Chamber.

Two weeks ago, Bulma finally decided to swallow her pride and went to visit Yamcha. She wasn't usually one to apologise, so it was quite an awkward discussion at first. After a while though, it got better and as the afternoon wore on Bulma found herself laughing and reminiscing about old times. He really was a sweet guy, she thought. Which made what she had said to him a lot harder. She broke up with him. It wasn't done without her own fair share of tears and heartbreak, but she really didn't feel that it was fair to string Yamcha along when her affections were focussed on someone else. Bulma knew that he probably still loved her, but he didn't fight it when she ended it, for which she was immensely grateful. They decided to stay friends however, and now she saw him at least twice a week when he stopped by for lunch or a short visit.

"Man, she looks just like you, it's scary. Except for the tail," continued Yamcha. "I must admit, I could never imagine you as a mother."

"And why is that?" Bulma asked.

"I dunno. You were always so… wild. Restless, I guess. I didn't get the vibe that you'd want to settle down anytime soon."

Oh, Yamcha, she thought. If only you knew.

"Does it make you feel like a mom, though? Having her around?" Yamcha asked.

Bulma sighed, "Honestly, I feel like Vegeta's getting more parental experience than I am since she spends the majority of her time with him. I think she feels a bit awkward around me. I don't know why, though."

"I can understand her wanting to hang around Vegeta. He died in her time, didn't he?"

"Yes. It hasn't even been a year for her."

"Poor kid. I may not think much about the guy, but I guess he didn't turn out to be a horrible father." Yamcha's eyes were on the two figures on the grass as he said this. His brows furrowed a bit and Bulma noted a hint of pain in his expression as he observed them.

"I think she was a bit of a daddy's girl anyway" Bulma stated, fishing out the photo that she kept in her lab coat pocket. She meant to give it to Bra, but somehow was reluctant to part with it. She had since laminated it to preserve it when she noticed the edges start to crinkle.

"Why would you think that?" Yamcha asked, leaning over to see what she was holding. She saw his eyes widen as he caught sight of the polaroid.

"It's just… a feeling I have."

The kitchen door opened, and Vegeta walked in, as usual, half naked and dripping sweat. Bulma should have been disgusted, but found herself immediately fixated when she caught sight of the droplets trickling down those washboard abs, following the perfectly defined contours of his adonis belt to pool into the rim of his low-cut spandex shorts. Damn, she cursed internally, finding her mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara desert, and involuntarily wet her lips with her tongue.

Vegeta went straight to the refrigerator, pulled out two large water bottles and then proceeded to uncap one and raised it to his mouth. The motion caused his back to flex, accentuating its flare that tapered down to a narrow waist, and the bulging bicep on his raised arm.

Now that's just mean, Bulma thought resentfully and struggled to detach her gaze from the obviously posturing male in her kitchen. She really wished he would quit playing around and just admit that he was into her. Who wouldn't be. She was gorgeous and she damn well knew it. He wasn't as slick as he thought he was. She recalled the couple of times that she caught him ogling her admittedly purposefully on display chest during one or two of their many arguments. Arguments that had her adrenaline spiked blood pumping thickly through her veins and had her throbbing between her legs. On second thought, maybe she didn't want to quit their little games just quite yet. She was already plotting ways to retaliate which involved sunbathing in some choice location… topless. She shifted in her seat, feeling the breeze hit the back of her neck from the open glass sliding doors in the living room, providing some relief from her overheating body.

Having been incapable of completely tearing her gaze from him, Bulma caught the exact moment a few drops escaped the water bottle and ran down his chin. Her mind immediately took her to all sorts of forbidden places, or rather took his mouth to all of her forbidden places and she had to clench her thighs together to alleviate the sudden ache. When he finished the bottle, he locked eyes with her, sucked a droplet from that decadent bottom lip and slowly, deliberately wiped the excess with the back of his hand, a teasing glint in those dark eyes.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the moment ended. Vegeta tossed the empty bottle in the trash can across the room then left the kitchen as suddenly as he entered, the other water bottle clutched in his hand and Bulma released the breath she had been unconsciously holding. Oh to be a bottle of water on a day like this, she thought with a forlorn sigh, absently fanning herself before resting her cheek on her fist. It was only then that she noticed that Yamcha had left.

As Vegeta was making his way back to the Gravity room, he could not stop the involuntary chuckle that escaped him at the thought of the women's reactions to his teasing. She was really too easy. Oh how he enjoyed making her squirm, the rosy flush of her heated skin such a delicious sight to behold. He especially enjoyed how quickly her former lover's face soured, as he too noticed the blue-haired woman's shift in attention. Her interest is obvious to anyone with eyes, but more so for someone with his heightened senses. He'd noticed that the other male's scent remained glaringly absent from her person these last few lunar rotations, and the longer she remained unbedded the more potent the scent of her arousal. Vulgar Woman, he thought with amusement. She doesn't even realise how blatantly she'd been advertising her interest in his presence. Not that he remained uninterested, mind you. On the contrary, he found the woman extremely interesting as of late. He had just not decided whether giving in to his baser needs would be worth it in the end. If it were a simple matter of slaking lusts, he figured that he would have no problem taking the woman up on her non-verbal invitations. Vegeta smirked as he recalled the one instance in the gravity room. Something had broken causing smoke to start rising from the centre control panel and he had demanded the woman fix it. When he entered the next day to check on her progress, she was her fixing something underneath the control panel. He had frozen on the spot when he caught sight of her. The blood he usually required for brain-function rushed straight to his other head and he was infinitely glad that the brat had chosen not to gatecrash his training session that day. Bulma was on all fours wearing a pair of shorts that looked like she took a pair of scissors to them, making the already indecent piece of clothing even shorter. Half of her luscious ass was hanging out and on full display to his unprepared eyes, and he could just make out the white cotton peeking out the sides of the denim crotch between those shamelessly spread thighs. He'd wanted to tear that scrap us useless fabric apart and give her what she'd been begging him for, taunting him with, these last few weeks. Instead he barked, "Hurry up wench, I haven't got all day." He grinned as he recalled the unspoken 'Fuck me' in her eyes turning into a very verbal "Fuck you!" "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he had taunted in reply and it wasn't long until she was storming out of the room cussing a streak as blue as her hair. He liked their verbal spats, enjoyed watching her eyes spark with fire as he insulted everything under the moon about her. She gave as good as she got and had him so riled up sometimes, that he wished that he wished he could just blast her into ash and be done with it. And when she drew close enough to him to poke him in the chest, and he felt her nipples tighten against his pecs, underneath whatever low-cut shirt she saw fit to torture him with that day, there was no denying she that wanted him. She knew it and so did he.

The woman was… fun. He did not despise her like he did the rest of the people on this gods-forsake planet and therein lay the crux of his conundrum. With Bulma, it would not be a simple affair. He couldn't view her as one of the many whore's he'd bedded and discarded afterwards. Like their verbal interplay, he expected that if they were ever to start a physical relationship, it would be more games of one upmanship. The temptation to somehow best the other would be too strong to ignore. Such games were addicting to Saiyans, who thrived on a challenge… and he had a pretty good idea how things would end up after that. In fact, he was almost certain about the consequences of such an affair, he thought as his counterpart's daughter came into view.

He didn't want brats. It didn't matter that this one was busy worming her way into places she had no business being, she was still a pain in his ass. The way she stared at him with those big blue eyes, so eerily similar to the woman's... He did not want to be in any way responsible for something so pure. He didn't deserve it. His hands were saturated with the blood of billions of girls who had eyes just like her. He did not want to be the reason for the shadows lurking in the depths of those eyes, for turning something so sweet and innocent into the haunted wraith that sometimes stared at him through those sad cerulean orbs.

Would the woman be accepting of his resolution? He did not think so, for as transparent as she was when looking at him, Bulma's intentions couldn't be clearer when he caught her watching the girl. The longing in her gaze was unmistakable. Bulma wanted children and he wasn't sure if he could oblige her this time around.

"Let's continue, shall we?" he told the girl. Tossing the unopened bottle of water to her. She beamed at him in gratitude and something in his chest stuttered and flipped at the sight.

He was in deep shit.

AN: And so it begins…