I hope Vegeta does not come off as too soft in this chapter. I tried hard to portray what he might feel like. I think he was starting to realize that he liked Bulma, and he saw the potential Baby-Trunks had, so all in all there was something there, slowly developing and he kind of like it, which made him really frustrated and mad at the whole situation because his plans for live are so different, and well, change is hard. I think that's why he so pointedly ignores Bulma during the Android/Cell Saga - he's trying to prove to himself that he doesn't care (including being an asshole to Future Trunks) - and once Future Trunks actually dies he's forced to realize that yes he does care and he can't keep pretending like he does not. So he stays with Bulma and his son. Just please keep that in mind when reading this Chapter - also this is Vegeta's inner turmoil and his thoughts so Bulma doesn't even know. In this chapter he works through his flood of emotions like most men; sex, flight, denial… eventual acceptance.
Additionally I will not be able to update till likely next month, i have family coming over :/ Sorry.
BUT i have a one-shot prepared to fill the long absence, I will likely post it next weekend, so feel free to check it out ;)
Enjoy and review please!
She said she missed him. What a ridiculous human notion that accomplishes nothing, yet his chest contracts in a manner that he can only describe as traitorous. The woman is presumably the only person in this universe that thinks of him in such a manner; that thinks of him at all. During his time in space, he had a chance to observe life and trade after Frieza, and Vegeta was appalled to realize that the Tyrant and his legacy were already fading. Nobody even spoke about Dodoria and Zarbon, his right-hand men, who were responsible for so much terror in the realm of the living. And everyone seemed to already have forgotten the elite team of Saiyans that, not too long ago, had Planets shaking in their boots on just the rumor of their deployment. The beings of this Universe had moved on, of course, he could - no would - return to the stars and remind them of who was in charge, yet Bulma would likely be the only being that ever missed him.
In fact, the woman is warm and welcoming and he is reminded of just how long it has been. He almost wants to scoff at the realization of how much he suddenly wants this close contact, how much the dreams he worked so hard to ignore and forget are coming back around full force, reminding him of the pleasure that he derives from being with her in such a manner. Vegeta reminds himself that he is a Saiyan Prince, and above those silly desires and needs.
He watches as her eyes are leaving his, traveling over the expanse of his body almost as if to re-familiarize herself with his physical form, it is then that he finally allows himself to fully study her and take note of her sleep attire. The fabrics covering her are tiny, covering little of her small body and he can distinguish that she has indeed lost weight, but her arms and legs also look more toned. A small, unsought, voice inside his head whispers that it's feasible due to the small boy in the crib. Squashing this unwelcome notion down almost violently he continues his exploration of her, has it really been so long?! Her hair is sleek now, a shorter cut that ends above her shoulders, making her hair looks even softer than he remembers. The shirt she is wearing is small and sleeveless, ending just around her navel and for a split second Vegeta believes he can make out a scar just above her pubic area that is covered by her panties, he doesn't get much time to contemplate it because he can feel that her eyes are back on his face and he curses himself for being caught ogling her body like a pubescent boy.
When his dark gaze finds her blue oceans there is lust in her eyes and to his great shame, he wants her to act upon it. The gods know he won't reach out and take the first step because he can't bring himself to further dishonor the throne of his people but if she acts first maybe he can indulge in what's freely offered, because, he might die while fighting the Androids, right?! Vegeta has obsessed over his potential death, it has spurred him on to achieve his goal, he will not be slain by a bunch of metal and computer programming, in fact, he is confident that he can eliminate them alone, but every now and then in the dark hours of the night there is the small whisper of gnawing doubt.
So when she reaches out and touches him, he does not scoff or brush her off, but instead he is drawn in by the determination flickering in her gaze. Bulma Briefs knows what she wants and her self-confidence mixed with the fact that she has welcomed him, instead of yelled at him, invites Vegeta to place his hand on her hip. She's tiny, more delicate than he remembers, and his thumb strokes over her hipbone on its own accord. When she leans forward and presses her lips against his own reality shrivels down till there is nothing left but the two of them, all his sense are focused on her and on full alert. Her soft hands tangling and clutching in his hair, her hips that press against his own, almost painfully reminding him how long it has been.
She's kissing him and to her great relief and pleasure he's kissing her back with barely restrained enthusiasm. He's wider than she remembers, his muscles more defined and he smells clean and fresh. For a short moment Bulma wonders how long he has been back, but then his hand is on the small of her back encouraging her to roll her hips against his again, and all coherent thought goes out the window.
Vegeta has not spoken a single word, once again she has done all the talking, but when he cups her ass and lifts her till she can wrap her legs around his firm waist she reminds herself that he is a man of action, not words. And right now his actions are telling her that he has missed touching her just as much as she has missed physical contact with him. He will likely never tell her and Bulma is surprised to realize that she does not mind, this makes her feel better than words ever could. The next thing she knows is that they are on the move, to her surprise he picks her bedroom instead of his own, on numerous occasions he has mentioned that he thinks her a slob, but now they are sinking into her silk sheets. Vegeta is right behind her, on top of her, never losing contact with his lips.
He is supporting himself on his elbows above her while his hands are cupping her face, fingers spreading into her hair, and he is kissing her like a starving man. Bulma has her legs wrapped around his waist and she is doing her best to grind her damp core into the bulge of his sweatpants. All the while marveling at how much his body has changed over the past year. His muscles seem even more defined, firmer as if he has lost the last gram of non-existent bodyfat - if that is even possible. The skin underneath her fingers is the same impossibly rich honeyed tone she envies so much, apparently, the sun is not needed to sustain Vegeta's sun-kissed looked. Above all, she can feel his heart hammering against the swell of her own breast, so different from the still passionate, but much more calculated encounter before. Her core is throbbing and she is fumbling with the waistband of his pants while he has switched to palming her breast and sucking on her neck. From the way she is laying underneath him her endeavor to rid him of his pants is unsuccessful, and she moans something rather incoherent into his ear to try and encourage him to help her get these hinder-some clothes off.
The world shifts when Vegeta suddenly rises to tower above her between her spread legs, her panties are wet and she herself is breathing raggedly. His dark eyes are half-lidded and never leave hers as he shrugs off his sweatpants, revealing his hard and jutting erection to the cool air of the night. Again she has to admit to herself what an exquisite specimen he truly is. The dark flame of his hair making him look impossibly tall above her.
Two large tan hands reach for the hem of her small night shirt and she obediently lifts her arms above her head to assist him in the removal of her top, the moment the fabric passes her wrist it disappears, tossed away carelessly, while his thumbs have found her nipples. Bulma's fingers curl in her silk sheets as he squeezes one peak between his fingers while his other hand is trailing south to rub against her clit, all the while he is watching her, seemingly spurred on by her breathy moans of lust and approval. All she can focus on is the throbbing between her own legs and Vegeta's hands on her body, the back of her thighs feel like they are on fire from where they are touching the tops of his, still seated on his heels between her spread legs. When his fingers grasp the hem of her soaked panties her ankles come up to his shoulders on their own accord, allowing him to slide the fabric of her legs while his manhood, moist with pre-cum, nudges her own wet lips.
And then Vegeta goes very still. The change is so sudden and quick, forcing her to immediately sober up and return back to reality. He is still between her legs, her ankles on his shoulders, panties discarded. It takes Bulma a moment to realize what has caused this shift in mood and behavior, following his line of sight she sees that he is scrutinizing her c-section scar on her lower abdomen. His face has returned to his emotionless mask, even his breathing has slowed to almost normal, but it is his eyes that are burning with an intensity that she can't place. For a moment she is very worried that he finds it appalling - in the first few months after Trunks birth she herself did - but then she regards his naked chest and reminds herself that he is covered in scars. Heck, she is even sure that none of them gave life, but much rather took it. Whether it be his own or that of someone else she doesn't know. The silence between them stretches on, his hand has traveled down her leg and his thumb is now carefully tracing the line. Vegeta's expression remains unreadable and Bulma considers the possibility that he does not know that it is related to the birth of his son.
"It's from Trunks birth" she finally informs him, careful of her tone of voice to be as neutral as possible. At that, he looks at her before his gaze flicks back down to her abdomen. When he still does not respond or move she has to fight with a flicker of frustration, she's really horny and even from her position underneath him, she can see that he is still hard too, whatever he is contemplating and mulling over surely can wait. Determined as she is Bulma softly rolls her hips against his, trying to spur him back into action. Her blue eyes find his dark gaze and she really hopes that he can see how desperately she needs this right now, and thank Kami Vegeta seems to return, realizing the position they are both in, his hand trails from her scare to his own manhood, and he strokes himself leisurely before oh so slowly pushing into her core.
Things are much less frantic and rough this time around - their previous two days together had been amazing, some of the best sex she'd ever had, but it had always been rough, hard and fast - this is different. When Vegeta slides in all the way he exhales deeply, and his hands find her thighs, angling and supporting her while he smoothly draws back and pushes back in. The rhythm he sets is steady, a continuous tip to base that has Bulma on the edge of sanity, and she can do little else but appreciate the view above her.
Her long creamy legs against Vegeta's dark torso, while his head is thrown back, exposing his strong jaw and neck. His large dark hands that wrap around her legs and grip the insides of her thighs for support. The muscles of his abdominals flex with every steady thrust of his hips and there is nothing she can do but enjoy the feeling of him deep inside her while his balls steadily clap against her backside. The sight alone has the delicious pressure in her lower abdomen building steadily and when her fingers reach her clit, she comes undone under Vegeta's dark predatory gaze.
She can feel her legs shaking against his body and his strong grip, and for a moment she has to focus on her own breathing because her climax is so powerful it is sucking the air out of her lungs. His tempo does not falter when he drops her legs and comes to rest on his elbows above her, lips so tantalizingly close to her own that she can't stop herself from fisting her hand in his hair and pulling him in the final inch. Bulma can feel his orgasm in their kiss, it's an odd but pleasing sensation to have tactical confirmation of his pleasure against her own lips.
He is still catching his breath when his pride scolds him that he let her too close, that this was, no is, a mistake, but his limbs feel pleasantly heavy and he is spent. The pleasing aching in his chest when he realized that her room, and most importantly her bed, smelled like her -and only her - not the weakling or any other men, was a mistake. Somewhere in his head, a small voice in whispering that this isn't so bad in comparison to all his life has amounted to before earth, that returning to the sucking void of space might not be worth the price he has to pay - that voice is clearly a mistake too.
In an attempt to make sense of his suddenly conflicting thoughts Vegeta tries to push it all down and just feel. Bulma is soft and warm underneath him, to his great shock it had displeased him greatly to see her beautiful pale skin scared like that. Because of him nonetheless. Which was a reaction that made no sense, he did not care about her, she was fine, furthermore, it was her own fault. He had specifically told her to stay away from him, to run, but did the stubborn female listen? No. Gods, he was still buried inside of her. Proof enough that none of this was truly his fault, she just wouldn't stay away from him. Any pain, emotional or physical, that she suffered was not his fault.
He needed to get up, eat, shower and then undertake final preparations for the androids. Return to things he knew, things he was good at, things that did not include Bulma. Or his son.
Just when he was about to lift himself up and off her, her legs around his waist tensed, her hands found his face, cupping it in a manner so gentle and soft that he had to avert his eyes.
"You did it, didn't you?"
Her soft question caught him off guard and when his eyes finally focused on her blue oceans, brimming with pride and adoration, it took every ounce of his self-control to hold her gaze and not shrink away like a lesser man would have done. It took a moment but then it suddenly dawned on him, she was talking about the transformation. His ascension to the legend he was prophesied to be. Another blasted thing about this woman he had to add to the list, she was not only the only one who likely ever missed him, she was likely also the only one who ever truly, wholeheartedly, believed in him.
He gave a small and quick nod, completely unprepared for her next question.
"Can I see it?"
She wanted to see? Surely she had seen the clown transform before, but he could not recall her eyes lighting up with anticipation and nearly unrestrained excitement when Kakarot transformed. All at once he was excited at the prospect of showcasing his achievement to someone, even more so to the only person that had supported him along the way.
He untangled himself from her soft form and sat back on his heels not caring about his nudity, he focused on his Ki. Right as the glorious power reached its peak and his aura that surrounded him flicked to a vibrant gold he silently hoped that the sudden shift in energy would not wake the half-Saiyan a few doors down. He was still lost in his own thoughts and focused on controlling his Ki when Bulma's small hand made contact with his bare chest. The sudden contact forced his eyes open and he saw his own reflection in her large orbs, his aura dancing on the walls of the room, illuminating the night.
The woman's face was filled with awe, and his chest constricted again, but this time with the brutal and sobering realization that this was all wrong. This was not him, and he really needed to get out of here.