Recap: Vegeta struggles with his desire for Bulma while wrestling with devastating flashbacks. Bulma considers how to support him without losing herself in the process. (This has some lemony parts, folks.)
3 a.m. - Thursday
Bulma had been staring at the wall for hours before Vegeta arrived. The top-to-bottom floor curtains were drawn tight, making the spacious bedroom almost pitch black, had it not been for a few scented candles glowing nearby. The white lace-covered canopy bed was exceedingly comfortable, as Bulma expected, but sleep eluded her. The previous day's events had penetrated the recesses of her mind, finally. She had been truthful telling Vegeta and his mother earlier that she would be fine, but by no means did that translate to "I'm one-hundred percent now." Not even close. Sunrise was around the corner, she thought - only five hours left. She banished the desire to call Vegeta from her psyche. What good would that have done? He asked her to trust him.
Her eyelids fluttered as she sank into the downy sheets and pillows. Rest was on the horizon. She was grateful that the queen made it clear to the staff not to disturb her until she needed something. She could stay locked in there all day without seeing a soul, except for Vegeta, of course.
A phone ring shortly thereafter broke the trance. She breathed in sharply. Her cousin Olivier was likely annoyed, if not downright irate, that she had not contacted him directly yet. They had communicated through e-mail since she departed from New York. He had left the hard work of comforting Bulma to Vegeta at first, with some uneasiness, since the prince was adamant about bringing her to Hegemone. The two men strongly believed in loyalty, a value they bonded over while at university. Neither made close friends easily, either, and were protective of relatives, which for Olivier meant it was time for a heart-to-heart talk with his cousin. He fancied himself as one of the family's headmen now - protecting home and hearth like an old bear - as well as a patrician. For some men, wealth and power tend to exaggerate these otherwise acceptable behaviors more to the point of annoyance.
"How close were you to it, Bulma?"
"Close to what, Olivier?" Bulma said sleepily. "How about saying hello. It is rather early for you."
"My dear, have you forgotten what it's like to run a company? I am calling you when I could be jogging near the Thames to relieve my stress - or having my first glass of scotch of the morning."
Bulma raised up in the bed, hoping to make it through their chat without a hefty argument. "Very funny, old man. If you're drinking booze this early, then that's a problem."
"I can't stomach the terrible stuff, actually," Olivier said, ignoring the jibe. "Tastes like medicine to me, but it's a favorite of Vegeta's, along with costly vodka. You must know that by now. Also, a friendly reminder that I am not much older than you."
Bulma closed her eyes. She realized that he didn't know how bad Vegeta's drinking had been – how difficult everything had been considering the pressures the prince faced. Vegeta must have hidden the problem fairly well when the men last saw each other, during fashion week in London. Bulma had no intention of telling her cousin yet either. One problem at a time.
"Darling, are you still there?"
Bulma sighed. "Yes, yes. I am sorry I haven't called."
"It would have been nice hearing you, considering that there was a bombing. Were you nearby?" He spoke like her father, rumbling like a slow-moving freight train through his sarcastic scolds.
"Look, Olivier, I'm fine."
The loud clatter of a tea cup echoed through Bulma's speakerphone before Olivier spoke again. "You were very close then," he growled. "Damn it! Where the hell were Vegeta and his small infantry of guards? Were you alone? You must be afraid. I am so sorry. I knew I shouldn't have agreed to any of this. Vegeta and I could have taken care of Zeus without you there. I have a mind to call him right now!"
"Olivier Nigel Marlowe, stop it!" Bulma snapped. "I shouldn't have to tell you to be discreet. Besides, I would have traveled to Hegemone anyway, with or without your or Vegeta's help."
"Leave for London today instead of tomorrow, Bulma. You should not remain there longer. My carriage house is ready for you. You are having Zeus cremated here anyway, so stay long as you want – for the rest of your life, even. I will travel to Scotland with you to spread your friend's ashes. Just have his memorial there next month. Other friends can travel to participate."
Bulma smiled and glanced at the wall clock. He still had a heart of gold. "Thank you, but I can't hide forever, and several of Zeus's friends aren't wealthy. They also deserve to pay their respects in person, in New York, and I must… I must return to work. That will help me feel better."
"As you wish, darling. As you wish. I am sorry about this tragedy. Could you at least hear me on something else, please?"
Everyone in their family was pushy. Olivier was especially skilled at wearing others down. Bulma sounded more tired, so he had a vital opening to press her harder. He was a businessman. One uses the tools available to achieve the desired result.
Bulma's eyelids were drooping fast. "Why don't you go jogging now, cousin? I am knackered. Isn't that what the Brits say – or only haughty, U.S. expatriate Anglophiles like you?"
"Ugh. Honestly, that was rude. You sound like aunt Bunny. God rest her soul. I was born here, along with your mother, remember? Now tell me about your relationship status with the prince."
"We are friends."
"Rubbish. What is this, high school? The de facto ruler of a country - who also happens to be a highly private, hot-tempered, and exceedingly wealthy man - asks his longtime friend to pay expenses for a family member following another man's gruesome death. The longtime friend gladly pays, of course, but is also worried. Vegeta can be distant at times, but I care for you both."
"Don't be so dramatic, Olivier. The prince is fond of me. I stood up to him when he acted like an overgrown brat the first time we met. He liked it. Then we charmed the hell out of each other. Now we're friends. I also make nice clothes, for which he pays handsomely."
Olivier sighed. "Okay, we will play hard ball since you're being coy. In my heart I have always known Vegeta to be a good man. He is my friend. He can also be an insufferable asshole. Regardless, I prefer that you keep your distance instead of becoming romantically involved. If you really are just friends, then fine, but he has been a serial womanizer, showing little respect for the strong feelings women have had for him. I never liked that, which he knows, and I am not confident that his behavior has changed."
"The womanizing wasn't hard to figure out," Bulma replied. "You know me. I don't spend time with anyone that I can't be bothered with. Any more secrets to share?"
Olivier wanted more details on the bombing. She wasn't giving up the goods, so he had to try a different approach. "Bulma, I am still the chief executive of a major company. If you think governments are the only ones that engage in spy work, then you're naïve. We have no stake in Hegemone's affairs, but other businesses do. Some are dishonest brokers who will do whatever it takes to get what they want. That includes infringing the will of the people and their rights. Countries rarely change political systems without unrest. I hope peace prevails in Hegemone, but I'm not betting my wealth. This is my terribly indirect way of saying I do not want you to get hurt, emotionally or physically."
Frustrated, Bulma grabbed a fistful of hair. As if she didn't know this already! "Enough, cousin. It's not like I'm marrying the man. Like you, the prince and his family have been generous despite their troubles. We both need sleep, so let's end this. I will be on your chartered plane tomorrow. Bye."
"Cheers, darling. I love you."
Drowsiness had taken ahold again. Then, another interruption dragged her back: knocking, followed by Vegeta's voice. He was pleading for her to come out.
He wasn't drunk. She was grateful for that, but Vegeta was ill. He calmed down when they first embraced, but then he bolted for the bathroom and vomited repeatedly. Bulma remained relaxed, sitting on the floor for almost an hour wiping his face and whispering that he was safe. Vegeta looked ashamed afterward, saying little as she guided him to her bed and partially opened the curtains.
He had completely broken down with her again. He should have shown more restraint, he thought. This time Bulma's eyes brimmed with pity, even though she had no idea what caused the problem. He hated that. He had become a greater burden. She had to feel that way by now.
Naturally, Bulma considered what triggered his panic attack – because that's what it was. Stress from the explosion could have rattled anyone's nerves, but Vegeta seemed confident leaving the hotel and prepared to confront the aftermath.
He draped his arm over his eyes. "You are… so calm," he said. "Just like the last time."
Shaking her head in disagreement, Bulma sat down. "Recall that I wasn't that relaxed after you arrived drunk at my home, but Zeus and I supported you. As for now, I remembered when he was withdrawing from drugs. Your reactions were similar. I tried to calm your panic attack the same way I did for him."
Vegeta winced. "Oh, that's reassuring. Now I resemble a heroin addict? Can we stick to alcohol?"
"You're feeling better." Bulma smiled, poking her finger underneath his arm. "I'm glad."
"Stop that."
"No, Vegeta. I want you to look at me."
He turned over. "Tiger Lily, please. I should not be here at all, not like this. I had a moment of weakness. I am better. I am better."
Bulma felt unsure whether to ask about Nappa yet, but she hoped Vegeta wouldn't sink beneath his defensive shell. "You promised at the hotel that we would talk," she urged gently. "I am holding you to that now. Are you up for saying what happened?"
"I said drop it!" Vegeta flipped over on the bed. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"
Bulma stood to blow out the candles. She had to keep her peace of mind. "As much as I want to help, I see you were right the first time. You should not be here any longer, at least for now. You've been up all night and under tremendous stress, as have I, so go rest. I also suggest that you follow the advice you gave me earlier. Don't expect others to pity you when you abuse yourself. You have people who care deeply for you. Push me away all you want – I can deal with it - but let others help you."
"Do not throw my words back in my face," Vegeta said angrily. "Your pity is obvious. I see it, and as I have said before, I do not want it. Your situation was different." His eyes followed Bulma's confident, graceful stride through the room. "You are… leaving tomorrow, yes?"
"I am. Olivier called. He is concerned about you."
"Let me guess. He is worried that I have seduced you and will callously dump you in the town square."
"Don't do this," Bulma said, holding up her hand. "Just don't. Despite his annoying lecturing, he's aware that I'm not naïve or easily swayed by men's advances. You were no exception, as you well know."
Vegeta looked away. "Even now?"
Bulma stared at him. "Vegeta, you opened yourself in a way you haven't with other women, at least from what I know of your past. You pleasured me because you wanted to yesterday. I felt genuinely cared for. Our connection began because I offered the space for you to explore your sexual interests without judgment. You learned to trust…enough. Our agreement still stands. I ask for nothing more."
Her self-assured response infuriated and shamed Vegeta more. Just because he wanted her completely didn't mean he should have her. That had been his mantra before she arrived. Their faces lost all visible emotion as he stood to leave. Bulma didn't move as he passed, keeping her back to him.
Each breath pummeled Vegeta's chest until he stumbled to a halt. He clutched Bulma's arm to look into her eyes. He was a fool. Yes, he was. Bulma's neck and face flushed red. She shook her head at him, pushing him back.
"Bulma, I…"
"Don't you dare," she said, covering his lips. "Don't say something that you'll regret later. I'm here for you, but not in that way. I can't be. Your life is complicated enough. So is mine." The last thing she wanted was a pointless, premature declaration of love that she couldn't return.
"Fine then." Vegeta moved closer, holding her arm firmly. "Fine then. I know I have been a fool."
Bulma bowed her head to break from his hypnotic gaze. "You're many things. A fool isn't one of them. I have learned more than I bargained for. Now let me go."
"I want to pleasure you again." Vegeta grasped Bulma's hand again, kissing her tiny fingers. "Allow me."
His dark voice burned like white lightening through Bulma's body. She had seen every inch of his body countless times, caressing the polished grooves as if he were a Renaissance-era sculpture. But now the wolf had reappeared in his eyes. They darted hungrily, awaiting a response.
She was trapped like a stalked deer. Vegeta's head cocked to the side, adorned with a slender, victorious grin. He gently removed her silk robe, dropping it on her feet.
"Art of War, chapter one, verse seven, tiger lily. Recite it for me."
A breathy laugh slipped from Bulma's mouth as their foreheads touched. "Heaven signifies night and day, cold and heat, times and seasons."
Vegeta nodded approvingly. "Very good." He unfastened the bottom of Bulma's lace negligee, inserting his roughened fingers inside of her. Their friction against her clit jolted her, provoking rhythmic, throaty panting. She trembled as his fingers climbed the mound, producing a flood of wetness. He kissed her shoulder and then bit down on it. She winced with pleasure until his tongue encircled and lapped the small bruise and moved to the collarbone. Her leg inched up Vegeta's side, riding his energetic fingers.
"I can bite harder wherever you want me to."
Bulma sighed, attempting to force out words clearly. "Not yet, your highness. Just kiss me."
Vegeta eagerly obliged her request, sealing her soft, supple lips with his own. Their tongues waltzed together, pirouetting with skillful ease. This soon gave way to hot-blooded waves, flowing effortlessly until their breathing harmonized. Bulma wanted Vegeta to ride her like a wild stallion – no, more like a medieval knight's battle charger.
Her knight picked her up, slowly returning to the canopy bed. After sitting down, Vegeta pulled Bulma on top of his legs, pushing his throbbing dick inside until her back arched. He then closed the gap, drawing her closer to increase her clitoral pleasure. He loved hearing her vibrant exhalations and moans. His tongue traced her expanded nipples, guiding her breast into his mouth. He couldn't get enough.
Bulma fingered through his hair. "I want you to fuck me, Vegeta." Her head fell back as they laughed together.
Vegeta shook his head with amusement. She was incredibly beautiful at that moment. "Oh, really? Now you tell me? I think our whole mess began this way."
He moved Bulma underneath him, throwing off their remaining clothes and straddling her. Her legs hung in the air while Vegeta pushed forward, drawing an excited yelp from her. He rode high, pressing down on her body. Her head fell sideways as his thrusts strengthened. She tried not to scream, especially now that the prince's devilish eyes dared her. He bore down harder, grinding into her. This was only the beginning, he thought. She would feel pain in other ways before the morning ended.
Vegeta looked up as his phone chimed. Important callers had specific ringtones. Bulma lowered her legs as his face cemented into rock-hard seriousness.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I have to take this."
Bulma climbed behind him, rubbing his shoulders. "Should I leave?"
"No. You are a guest. I will talk in the connecting room."
Bulma dressed in her robe, staring as Vegeta entered the other room. "It's okay. I understand." She moved from the door to give him privacy. Then she heard a loud crack, as if wood had been chopped. She threw open the entrance, stopping abruptly to observe a paperweight on the floor. Vegeta paced the room with the phone bent over his ear. "This is unacceptable," he told the caller.
His voice was calm, but the tone was grim as he looked up. Bulma stood silently as he walked past. "You should get sleep. I must leave. Our cook will prepare food whenever you are ready to eat today."
"What about you?" Bulma protested. "You had a panic attack earlier. Something triggered it. You might be risking a worse one if you don't pull back and rest. Can't another person handle the problem? You have an entire government at your disposal. When will you see your mother?"
Vegeta quickly put on his clothes and hat. "Danae will be fine. Also, I know… you're wondering about Nappa. Yes, he is my biological father, which he confessed in New York. Beyond that, I do not want to discuss it. As you said, my life is complicated enough. Those words should have never been spoken."
"Understood," Bulma said quietly. Vegeta didn't hear it, and she didn't watch him leave.
Notes: To be clear, the underlying problem between these two is fear of co-dependency. Others fear that for them too. As it stands, neither Bulma nor Vegeta want her to become his enabler, but it appears that he might be weakening on that end. He isn't trying to hurt or play games with her, because he is falling in love with her. And to be fair, Bulma walked into this entire situation with him thinking that she could control it. We'll see what happens.
