Appreciate your comments on the last chapters. I finished this new one to soothe my soul because I can't yet see the new DBS-DBZ English dubs. (Don't judge me.) You're pushing me, guys. Glad you are sticking with this. I wondered how hard it would be to weave the cat through V&B's dominant narrative. I'll try not to choke!
Bulma screamed like a banshee, spilling coffee on her desk and area rug - her $5000 Zinni rug.
"For heaven's sake, don't do that! You scared the hell out of me, Vegeta."
He raised his eyebrow. "That is a lot of hell to scare, woman. You should always be prepared for war during times of peace... and your door was open."
Pleased with himself, Vegeta walked leisurely to recover Bulma's smartphone from underneath the office pool table. He ignored Dr. Brief's shouting from the other end, choosing instead to deliver a towel to wipe her coffee-drenched desk.
Bulma quickly snatched the device and shook her other fist at him. "Daddy! Don't worry. I just fell from my chair - had my feet on the desk. No broken bones. I'll call you later. Hugs and kisses. Okay, bye!"
By this time Vegeta had planted himself on a nearby leather sofa. He was wearing black shorts and a royal-blue T-shirt, and his legs were spread wide open, exposing a prominent bulge in the middle. Bulma didn't seem to notice. She was just relieved that he had bathed before sitting on her expensive furniture. He also smelled like cologne.
Cologne? Holy guacamole! No way. Bulma inhaled the musky fragrance with meaning and purpose. Never in a million years would this chest-beating, chauvinist throwback of a man wear cologne. My sinuses must be acting up, or maybe mom finally gave him new soap. Yeah, that must be it.
Then she slammed her phone down.
"What are you doing here?"
"I live here," Vegeta said. "I am practically family."
"Yeah, more like Freddie the freeloader."
Vegeta smirked at her. "Is this a relative you dislike?"
Vegeta's persistence could be strangely appealing when he wasn't complaining, especially when he really wanted something. He had learned through trial and error - lots of errors - how to push Bulma to the edge of her patience to get what he wanted. It was a powerful game of wits, or somewhat like blood sport without the gore. He rejoiced when he won without yielding his pride too much. Of course, Bulma had her own cunning defenses that could squash his goals instantly, driving his temper to the brink of brain hemorrhage. Worse, she had the audacity to laugh at her victories, always, knowing full well that he was a sore loser.
Vegeta remained sarcastic - no shock there - and Bulma liked that about him, up to a point. He wouldn't still be living at the Capsule estate if she didn't. She had convinced herself of that, at least, but her original reasons were more complicated. She invited Vegeta to keep him from causing more trouble. The shocks he experienced between his time on Namek and return to Earth stunned him into brooding submission. He also had nowhere else to go. Now, helping him gain more strength seemed illogical, but all she could do was rely on hope, which was inherently unscientific. Whatever happened eventually between him and Goku would happen regardless. Her goal was to break through Vegeta's mental armor just enough to redirect the potential damage away from everyone around them.
By now she could tell from his sarcasm whether he was angry, annoyed, bored, amused, pleased - or aroused. She had seen flashes of that side, but not often, not since they first kissed the year prior. Sometimes she would catch him staring when she laughed heartily at others' jokes or when she described a technical issue he hadn't considered. But revisiting the path to the red-hot passion they shared that one day in the lab was sheer madness.
Lunacy.
"Okay, Vegeta. Your entertainment is over. I must finish here. Mom is cooking right now, so this should be a special night for your bottomless stomach. Take the hint and get out."
Vegeta clasped his hands and leaned forward. "Bulma, what are you and your father planning, and what is my role those plans?"
"You shouldn't have been listening." Bulma's back straightened. This wouldn't be pretty.
"Again, what are you and your father planning? Do not make me repeat myself. I am being well-mannered."
"Oh no, partner." Bulma looked at him disdainfully. He had picked the wrong moment. She was going swimming - and maybe for a massage. He would not disrupt her relaxation. "I am having none of this from you today," she said. "Don't make me repeat myself again."
She is making this harder on herself than necessary, Vegeta thought. My request is not unreasonable. I started the disagreement - might as well have fun.
"Does it have anything to do with that two-month trip you took a while ago to the mountains, Bulma?" he said. "The one you lied about, calling it a vacation?"
Bulma lips pressed together. "You followed us?"
"Of course I did."
"That is creepy, Vegeta. You sound like a stalker."
"It may sound disturbing, but my greater concern was self-preservation. It should have been yours too."
"In what way? You saw our house there?"
"Yes, I did, and saw no playing there by anyone except your mother. No friends joined you, which is highly unusual for people as social as you and she. That is how I knew you were working. For safety reasons, perhaps you should consider another place for your lab. That one is not hidden adequately and…"
"And just how long did you observe us?" She shouldn't have been surprised by his hypervigilance, but he always managed to stay one step ahead.
"Long enough," Vegeta replied. "After my first visit, when you arrived there, I followed up the next weekend. I had planned to return again, but by then you were leaving messages. I was feeling strangely then - and now we know why - so I put more effort into my training."
"Messages you never returned," Bulma retorted.
"You have cameras everywhere and adequate security to prevent intrusions, and you unwisely trusted others to watch me - including that strange old man in the bright clothes, who says he is a 'martial arts trainer.' What is his name again?"
Bulma was ready to punch him.
"Master Roshi," she said.
"He practically set up residence at your estate, consuming every bottle of wine in sight," Vegeta said. "I avoided him. He was not a troublesome drunkard, though. That was fortunate for him. Now, let us return to my first question."
"I'm leaving now." Bulma picked up her handbag, turning toward the door. Then, Vegeta sensed a change in her ki.
She is worried - very worried.
"What concerns you?" Vegeta moved in closer. "You are terrible at hiding anxiety. I certainly do not need protection from whatever is troubling you."
Bulma did not utter a word. She was worried, but not just about the discussion with her father. She eyed Vegeta's chest, arms, lips, and the place between his thighs. He had stayed long enough to be an enticing distraction, and he damn well knew it.
"I could dangle you from the side of your mountain hideaway to force an answer." The pupils of Vegeta's eyes widened. "Would you prefer that?"
Bulma leaned against her desk. Her hands clutched the edges for dear life. "Try me."
Game over.
Vegeta moved in as Bulma's hands grasped his hips to stroke the swollen place between his legs. She had given him permission to kiss her. He lifted her face with both hands, looking into her eyes, their lips touching lightly. She licked his top lip until his breath shook with anticipation of their impending union. Kissing slowly and deeply, they fell back on her desk, scattering accessories across the floor. Vegeta then pushed her mini-skirt up to her thighs. Bulma soon felt her bikini panties ripped to shreds by his teeth. At first Vegeta took great pleasure watching the pink folds between her legs throb, inviting his cock's penetration. He almost lost himself in them.
What an exquisite sight this is, but I am not ready.
This woman would scream for it, beg him for it - lose herself in it - but not until they took care of other business first. He then ran the tip of his finger across her clitoris, followed by his tongue.
Bulma gasped and seized his hair. "Ahhh, ahaaah." She pulled her legs up, planting her feet firmly on the desk. Vegeta smiled faintly, and then his face became deadly serious. This was mere child's play.
"Hn." He thrust his tongue in farther. "What are you willing to do for me, Bulma?"
"AAHH!"
"That is enough, woman! Be quiet. Now tell me, nice and slow, what you will do for me." Vegeta's head remained between Bulma's legs, but his commands weren't entering her ears.
He had penetrated her mind.
"Oh, Bulma, are you that easily aroused? Recall how easy it was for you to shout my name before. We did not even get this far. I wonder if I should continue. Now, I asked you a question! I will stop if you continue to make me wait."
Bulma's breathing slowed. She would not be so effortlessly dominated. Without looking up, Vegeta caught her arm in midair as she tried to grab his shoulder. He would have been insulted by the reaction if he wasn't having so much fun.
"Get out of my head, Vegeta - now."
Laughing with an air of victory, Vegeta drew his tongue up to her breasts. "Oh, come now. You don't want that."