There is violence in this chapter. If you are easily offended or this is simply not your kind of thing. Don't read it.
You have been warned.
Vegeta was around 14 the first time he hugged a girl.
It was his first physical experience not involving violence since becoming part of frieza's army. They had been given orders to purge a planet and things had gone very smoothly, engaged in fierce competition who can wipe out entire cities faster, with young Vegeta well in the lead. He was done destroying the last city in his sector when he had seen her, around his age, long flowing hair, and large bright green eyes. Engulfed in his high of victory and blood spill he was about to extinguish her life with his newly learned Galick Gun - a boy's got to practice after all - when she had reached out to touch his hand and pull him in a tight embrace. Begging for her life the only way she knew how. He had felt her racing heart against his body. Surprise by her actions and the comfort that arose with this first pleasant physical embrace in so many painful years he had found himself hugging her back - failing to kill her. Failing to ride this planet of all life forms. Failing Frieza's orders and with that delivering her to a fate worse than death.
Back on the ship he was reminded that Fireza saw everything, in a horrific and grotesque display of his power he found himself forced to watch as warriors from all corners of the universe took their turn. Leaving a lifeless shell that was torn limb to limb. All the while Frieza's voice in his ear, laughing, commenting, applauding, reminding him of the consequences of weakness, of disobeying. While Vegeta did his best to display that he did not care. Over the course of his life it was not the most cruel thing he had ever seen, it was also not the most cruel thing he had ever done. Yet it often haunted his dreams.
The embrace had no special meaning to him, no deep attachment, no bond, all it did was remind him of the last time his mother had hugged him on Vegetasei.
If that was even a true memory and not an illusion fueled by the subconscious of a young boy.
Frieza's action tore that memory away from him as violent and bloody as he possibly could. Strengthening Vegeta's resolve to never need anyone but himself again. In all the years that had followed he had build not only a wall but also iron strong discipline and managed to avoid all physical contact not pertaining to battle. Exceptions were rare, biologically driven and on his terms.
Nappa and Raditz had dragged him through a fair share of bars and whore houses across the galaxies, enjoying themselves after fulfilling another one Frieza's missions. He had tolerated it, appalled and disgusted, never would he, the Prince of all Saiyans sink to a level like this.
Now he was sitting in his bed, at 2 o'clock in the morning, at the Capsule Corp compound fighting demons and urges he had buried with Frieza and his own death.
Two weeks had passed since Bulma turned his GR back on and respected his wish to not be disturbed. His training had made substantial progress since then but his frustration grew with every single day. The legendary transformation still out of reach. Unable to train it away it was starting to drive him insane.
Worse than that was the weakling who had come around again. Vegeta hated that man and the only reason he hadn't blasted him was his continued need for the accommodations the Briefs provided him. Blasting Yamcha was therefore not an option - not yet anyway. Him and Bulma fought almost daily which only aided in his utter frustration and hate of the weak earthling.
Vegeta was just about to take a shower, attempting to banish his thoughts, and sooth his aching muscles after a day of training, when he heard screams from down the hall.
It was once again Bulma and her weakling mate. Continuing to undress for his shower Vegeta suddenly noticed a change of tone in the argument and there was a loud thumping noise and then a scream of pain or was it fear from Bulma.
Before he even knew what he was doing Vegeta had made it down the hall and tor Bulma's bedroom door right of the hinges as he kicked it open. A scene of destruction stretched out in front of him. Her rooms was a mess. Random things were thrown across the floor like they had been used as weapons and thrown across the room. His gaze moved to his left, where a bathroom was adjacent to Bulma's large luxurious bedroom, what he saw got his blood boiling. Bulma was laying on the floor, holding her head with a grimaced face of pain, the smell of blood was in the air. Her blue eyes were red, tears streaking down her face as her small delicate body laid on the bathroom floor only covered by an oversized t-shirt. Standing above her was Yamcha, struggling to find his breath as he was leaning against the doorframe for support.
Bulma's vision was blurry from tears, it had all happened so fast. She and Yamcha had tried to work things out - against her better judgement she had been stupid enough to give him another shot after a night of loneliness and drinking.
Things between them had been tense for a couple of days now. But tonight escalated quickly and before Bulma knew it they were engaged in a physical fight. Over his stupid phone. She was so shocked that she had not even been able to fully defend herself.
Vegeta called Yamcha a weakling all the time and tonight she had been reminded that this unfortunately still meant that he was a lot stronger than her.
Panic had overcome her as she had tried to scream for help but realized that her parents were out of town a Vegeta most likely still locked away in the Gravity room. In an attempt to get away they had struggled against each other and she had ultimately fallen, hitting the back of her head on the hard, cold bathroom tile.
Struggling to get back to her feet, she saw Vegeta grabbing Yamcha by the throat, a whole lot of screaming erupted between them, but Bulma couldn't make out a single word. She saw Yamcha desperately trying to break free from the Saiyans death grip and moments later she witnessed Vegeta throwing her now ex boyfriend out the balcony door and over the railing. Over the railing. How high up where they again? Her breathing slowed a little,having managed to get on her hands and knees.
Still on her hands and knees she was struggling to come upright, leaning on the vanity unit for support, when she felt two strong arms encircling her and picking her up like she was nothing more than a feather. Vegeta sat her on the sink with surprising gentleness, his face a stoic mask with no emotions and proceeded to look for a towel which he wetted and then carefully examined the back of her head.
She could feel the heat radiating from his body, calming her down and allowing her to finally realize that he was wearing nothing more than a black pair of shorts. Very small shorts. Where those Boxers?! His bare chest was so close to her body as his hands carefully and skillfully maneuvered through the hair at the back of her head. He had done this before. His gaze was fixed, concentrated and his breathing shallow and relaxed. This was not even a bump in the road to him, he had clearly seen much worse and it would take more than a pathetic human struggle to shake Vegeta.
Turning his attention to her face, he carefully wiped away her running mascara and his eyes locked on hers, studying her intently. It was then that Bulma realized that he had not said a single word to her. He had marched in here and then thrown her ex-boyfriend out a window! Now he was cleaning her superficial scratches and standing so so close to her that her brain was possibly melting. Her thighs were spread and he was standing between them, it what looked like underwear. The Vanity suddenly felt cold underneath her in contrast to the heat radiating off him.
Her eyes found his again only to realize that he had still been watching her, she swallowed hard.
"Thank you Vegeta" she finally breathed almost inaudibly.
Vegeta grunted , while turning her head to examine the side of her neck, "I told you he's pathetic" he finally added when he let go off her face and tossed the small towel into the sink to their right.
He was too close again. The inside of her thighs touching his, her breath feathering across his chest. Too close, he needed to get away.
"I never thought he'd do anything like this, ever. I was so scared when I realized my parents weren't home and I thought you are still out in the GR… i thought none would be able to help me" she sniveled, interrupting his train of thought and leaning against his chest. Her hands finding his back on their own accord, she was trying to hide her tears that were fighting their way back to the surface. His skin was surprisingly soft, inhumanly hot and she felt comforted and safe with her head right over his heart. From this angle she could see the large scare she had felt through his shirt a few weeks back. It started on his pectoral and ran diagonally across his chest ending just before the rib-cage. It had been deep, and her mind raced wondering what the story behind it was.
He could feel her soft and heated cheeks against his torso, small wet drops rolling down her face before meeting his skin and melting between their bodies. Her arms wrapped around him. Like a hug? A hug?! This universe was playing tricks on him, someone up there was having a grand time on his expense.
Unsure of what to do, or how to behave in this situation he picked up a clearly shaken Bulma and carried her towards her bed. The only thing he could think of doing was put her down and return to his room, wanting to leave her and this hug behind as soon as possible. He had never huged again. Those things ended bad.
But once he had deposited the woman on the bed and removed his arms from around her soft body her small hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Her blue watery eyes looked at him with a hint of terror when she whispered "I don't want to be alone tonight".
"He's not coming back, woman" Vegeta responded a little more harsh than he had planned.
All Vegeta wanted to do was retreat to his room, take a shower and fall into bed. The naked skin of her legs against him, when she had been sitting on the vanity unit, had felt too good and he needed to get away from her. Freeing his wrist from her grip he was about to step away and turn around when he heard her hoarse voice again
"Vegeta.. I am scared..I don't want to be in in this room, especially not alone.." she sniffled again "...Please…"
Her last word sounded so desperate and pleading, making the familiar pull inside him resurface. When he turned around to look at the woman her blue eyes flash green and his chest constricted in and unfamiliar, uncomfortable way. Walk away. You did more than enough. Walk away! NOW! His pride was berating him and he struggled to sort out the emotions arising inside of him. She is none of your concern. She is nobody. You don't even care. GO! His dark eyes meet hers, now blue again, pleading oceans and his resolve crumbled. His body bend back down over her on his own accord. He picked her up. There was no way Vegeta was about to lay in a bed that smelled like that pathetic human weakling.
Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his naked skin against her. Once they were upright again she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and nestled her face in the crook of his neck.
She felt so utterly betrayed by Yamcha. She was so mad at herself for ever trusting him and her emotions were running crazy, but being so close to the Saiyan, who not only radiated heat but - strangely - also calm and peace made her feel better. Made her feel safe. Safe in the arms of a Murder, Psychopath, Maniac. A man who had told her on numeral occasions that he'd hurt for fun.
She sighed deeply, breathing in his smell as he made his way back to his room. He smelled good. Deep and spicy but somehow also surprisingly fresh. Distinctly male. Bulma was brought back to reality when he placed her ,surprisingly gentle, on the bed. A wave of panic came over her again as he pulled away again and she opened her mouth in an attempt to protest but was cut off.
"I need to shower. Go to damn sleep, woman" he said dryly, while heading towards the bathroom "And stay on your side of the damn bed".
Bulma felt a little sting at his dry words, but realized that she should not push her luck. He had taken care of Yamcha, followed by her and now she was laying in his bed. His bed. The Prince had actually submitted to her request to not be left alone, and she did not want him to regret his decision. There is more to him after all.
When Vegeta finally slipped into bed with her Bulma waited a few minutes before carefully sneaking a peek over her shoulder. He was laying with his back to her on his side. Torso bare. His body slowly and rhythmically rising and falling as he appeared to be drifting off to sleep. A flood of appreciation and gratefulness came onto Bulma she she replayed the evening in her mind and before she knew what she was doing she had rolled over and wrapped her arms around his waist. Nestling her face into his neck she whispered "Thank you" again.
Vegeta had noticeable tensed at her touch and Bulma feared he was about to throw her off him and the bed as well while snarling a cascade of insults at her, so she quickly added " I'll never tell anyone. I promise. Our little secret"
It was an attempt to sooth his pride that was most likely raging wildly inside of him right now. And it seemed to work, his body slowly relaxed. He didn't reply. Smiling against his back the blue haired girl relished in the feeling of his warm skin and his momentarily tolerance of her.
Vegeta laid awake all night, not moving a single inch. He felt her rhythmic breath on his back as she drifted off to sleep, her hand loosely draped over his side. He could see her creamy soft skin in the moonlight shining through the balcony doors. Her touch was burning his skin with little jolts every time her sleeping figure moved against him. He told himself that this was not an attempt to ease the grueling memory his his first hug. The loneliness that followed for years or the physical encounters in his teenage and adulthood years that were marked by distrust and as little contact as possible. The blue haired female was flush against his back. Legs tangling with his in her sleep. Frieza was dead. She infinitely weaker than him. It was okay, he was still in control. Ignoring his pride Vegeta decided that just this once he was going to allow this. Just this once. In the hope that it would be enough to scratch the itch.