Hey Lovelies- in this chapter i attempted to dive a little into Vegeta's mind and his possible turmoil. I hope you like it ;)
Vegeta had only survived the past few days due to brutal training and cold showers. When he was not beating himself to a pulp, to the point of complete, utter, satisfying exhaustion he was trying to be either; eating, showering or sleeping. The latter was a state rather hard to attain - no matter how much he trained. He could not fall asleep, his thoughts a never ending spinning carousel that drove him insane. What made things even worse everything seemed to be covered in a hue of blue.
Even back on Namek he had found Bulma gorgeous. He had prolonged the fight against Zarbon to prove her that she was cheering for the wrong contender. How absolute idiotic.
Never before had he considered, or even given a shit about what a female thought. About him. About anything. That was the way it was supposed to be. As far as he was concerned that was something that did not happen to Saiyans. He couldn't remember much but what he could recall was that it never happened to Nappa or Raditz. Neither of the two of them ever mentioned it, or anything remotely related to it. As far as females were concerned you took what you liked, made sure it wouldn't get back to Frieza and then moved on.
Females are only good to satisfy a biological imperative - the words Nappa had once told him, a long time ago, a lifetime ago, ringing in his ears. Vegeta had found that to be true. The opposite sex did generally not interest him, and the times he had actually given into curiosity and his biological needs it had been just that - satisfying a biological imperative. On his terms. With him in were all nameless, faceless shadows. Exactly how it was supposed to be.
The woman had bewitched him. That was the only possible explanation for what was happening. She was loud, annoying and she associated with lowly scum like that weakling she had invited to her bedroom time and time again - apparently for years.
He was the prince of all Saiyans, his chance of ever having a mate died with his planet. No other woman was worthy. There were no Saiyan females left that might have warranted such a strong need and preoccupation of his thoughts. But even that was something he was not sure of. He knew little to nothing about Saiyan bonding or mating. Earthling females were not something that should take any room in his mind or life - and yet Bulma had. Nappa had told him once that his father had picked a preferred mate for him, in a life long before Frieza. A Life long before all this. A Life that did not even feel like it was his. Sometimes he had wondered what she would have looked like. She, this preferred mate his father had picked. Who would he have been in this different life? But the older he got the less he thought about it - there was only this, his life, his life of blood and destruction. He was death.
Everyone across the Universe knew that. When he came he brought death and when he left, he left destruction. He was death.
Despite the distance he repeatedly tried to put between him and the Earth woman she never left his mind, she never left him. And as soon as he returned she wormed her way even deeper into his very being. She was ruining years of pain and practice that it had taken him to become a perfect warrior.
Cold showers, Hot showers, Ice Bath, Training, sleeping, eating, more training, leaving capsule corp., more training, fighting with her and again more training could not rid him of his ever growing infatuation with her. His body's growing infatuation. His body's cursed hormones.
I should have never intervened in the fight with her and that weakling. That's when it all got unbearable. He had woken up after a flashback and heard the fight she had with Yamcha, he had intervened, he had allowed her to sleep in his bed, to touch him. He had been off his game, sleep deprivation and then the nightmare had him feeling dizzy and he had lost control. Her touch had felt so good that not even his pride had been able to save him.
It had opened the floodgates for a need that no amount of handy work could fix.
Pathetic and soft. That's exactly what he was turning into. A pathetic and soft weakling. Like the clown Karkarot.
His eyes were closed, his head in the back of his neck. His head spinning from the thoughts running through it while trying desperately to banish them. He hated when this happened, when the GR broke and he had to wait for it to be fixed. Wait in her presence to make sure she wouldn't take her sweet ass time with the repairs and those situations allowed his mind to wander.
Unfortunately this was exactly what was happening now.
He was standing in the GR, the woman on her knees,her head in the control panel, fixing some wiring. His mind raging wildly. Her scent lingered in the air, infiltrating his sensitive nose. It also happened to be that time for her. The roughly 3 days in her cycle where her scent just drove him crazy. Where his brain seemed to melt when she was near and the primal beast inside of him raged wild with need against its cage. His back was turned to her, to avoid the view of indecent shorts that exposed too much of her endless legs.
"How much longer woman?" he barked, annoyed with her. With himself.
"You really did a number on it this time Vegeta. I'm gonna have to order parts to repair it - maybe a day or two."
She was in the process of closing the control panel and collecting her tools which laid scattered around her.
"That's unacceptable. I demand you fix it TODAY!"
In long strides, clearly displaying her anger with the alien Prince Bulma made is across the Gravity Room, rounding on Vegeta to be face to face with him. She loved his height in situations like this - it allowed her to get directly in his face.
"Treat my equipment better and you won't have to wait for repair parts to be ordered and delivered" he voice was shaking with anger. This was not the first time they had this argument. To make her point she was poking him in the chest with every word she pressed through gritted teeth.
"Make equipment that is actually worth a shit, and I shall stop breaking it"
Stepping closer to him, Bulma unleashed a cascade of reasons why her technology was not shit and why he needed to learn how to control himself. But none of that truly reached his brain. His eyes were fixed on her deep blue oceans, hair of matching color flying wild and unchecked with all the head movements she made - likely trying to underline some ridiculous point - her cheeks were flustered. Yes, she was mad. A drop of sweat ran from her temple, down her face, along her neck before reaching her collarbone, right where he could hear her blood rushing and heart hammering. God yes she was mad. Mad and gorgeous.
In the midst of all her screaming, this realization of her fiery beauty and appeal, along with the flicker in her blue captivating oceans he could feel his crotch twitch. Never before had the anger of someone else aroused him. This much.