05 - Heavy Breathing

Vegeta shoved the box off the bed, sending the battle armor flying across the floor to lay Bulma in its place. She made for a much better present, and one he was more eager to slip into.

She clung to him like a drowning thing. For someone with such negligible strength, Bulma did a commendable job of holding on, clutching his face to her own as she taught him how to use his tongue for more than monologues and acerbic remarks. But try as he might, he couldn't pin her down. Holding her was like trying to hold water, she kept rolling and undulating against him like waves on the sea. It was maddening.

After long minutes, she broke their kiss, their mouths gasping wetly against each other. Her head dropped back against the pillow. Finally, he was free to take her. Vegeta shoved his hands under her shirt, pushing it up to bare her belly. He bit her tender flesh playfully, laving at her soft, smooth stomach and naval. Bulma squealed, arching back, baring her throat in what he presumed to be submission. The white column of her neck called to him as did her kittenish sounds of distress. His senses heightened, like a predator spotting a wounded animal, Vegeta went in for the kill. He slipped his hands into her hair to hold her still as he mouthed her neck, right at the same time as her clever fingers found his erection. She teased him in the same slowly-cruel way she had in the recovery room when he creamed himself in under three minutes.

"Enough!" he choked, frantically grabbing her wrists. He pushed her arms above her head, glaring at her. Their eyes met, both of them panting hard. Bulma gave in, laying docile in his grip for now.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking at him with big blue eyes. Her face was flushed and framed prettily amidst her ocean of curls.

His jaw worked. "Why do you keep moving?"

She blinked, baffled. Then her lips curled up in a slow smile and she dragged her legs over his hips. "Why wouldn't I?"

He made a frustrated sound, shoving her off. "How can I fuck you when you're wriggling about so much?"

Her breathless laugh grated on his nerves, her eyes dancing brightly. "I thought we were fucking."

She was making fun of him. Had to be. How could they be fucking if she was still in her goddamn clothes? The woman was infuriating. Vegeta tightened his fingers about her wrists in annoyance.

Her breathing faltered, a breathless moan falling from her lips. The sweet scent of her arousal permeated the air, making his nostrils flare. Well, wasn't this familiar. He recalled a similar reaction from her in the recovery room; he had held her down then too.

She had a weakness.

A warm, triumphant feeling swelled inside Vegeta, the same he felt during battle when victory was imminent. Smirking, he bowed over her, leaning more of his weight against her arms. "We will be fucking, just as soon as you spread your legs for me like a good little bitch."

Bulma's eyes darkened, with anger or arousal he couldn't tell. Didn't care. Both excited him.

"I'm no one's bitch," she replied, her voice dangerously low. Her legs once again snuck up and looped over his hips.

He shoved them back down. "You're sure acting like one."

"And you're doing it again."

He narrowed his eyes. "Doing what?"

"Trying to control the situation."

He froze, her words a harsh slap to the face. Caught red handed. He was supposed to be losing himself in the moment, not grappling it — her — into submission.

Fuck.

He let her go. Doubts that Vegeta had earlier pushed aside came back with a vengeance. Unable to look her in the eye, he backed off, sitting on the edge of the bed to collect himself.

A moment later the mattress dipped next to him. He pulled up his knee to shield his flagging manhood from Bulma's gaze.

"Just for the record," she said, tugging her shirt down and then rubbing her wrists, "I like you being dominant in bed."

"Tch," he replied, eyeing her hands from the corner of his eyes. Why did she rub them? Had he been too rough? He thought he had held back enough, but humans were so terribly frail.

"The trouble is, you're still using this too much," she continued, and she stopped rubbing her wrists to tap him on the brow instead.

Vegeta tensed, watching as her index finger came right for him. Every fiber of his being stiffened, ready to snap, poised for her attack even though logically he knew she couldn't hurt him, not by conventional methods. But Bulma wasn't conventional: she was clever. Who knew what she could do if she put her mind to it? She had survived Namek after all. He couldn't even say that.

Her finger pressed harmlessly against his forehead. He scowled.

"You're not letting go. You're all up here still, aren't you?"

…Fuck. He really hated how she knew that.

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled, slapping her hand away, frustrated for more reasons than he cared to think of right now.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help."

"Help how?!" he demanded, growing more vexed by the second. "All you do is speak in goddamn riddles and play your psychological mind games."

"Mind games? What are you talking about—"

"Don't play coy," he sneered at her. "You're constantly in my head, hounding me every chance you get, acting friendly, smelling nice, pretending to be on my side. Don't think I haven't noticed. I'm not one of your moronic friends you can manipulate. And I'm not some stray pet you can tame like your parents keep either."

"Vegeta, I'm not—"

He didn't let her finish, not interested in excuses.

"Forget it," he snapped, standing up and going over to his drawers to put something on so that he wasn't the only goddamn one naked in the room. He dug about in his array of useless human clothes she had given him, looking for some kind of appropriate attire. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking taking your advice. What would you possibly know that could help me? No wonder Kakarot keeps his distance from this infernal place."

He found a pair of shorts that didn't offend his sense of fashion.

Something smacked him, hard, in the back of the head. His chest armor hit the floor and rolled to his feet. Vegeta touched his skull for blood, and shot Bulma a murderous glare over his shoulder. That bitch.

"You dare—"

"You self-serving jerk!" she shouted, her voice alarmingly thick with emotion. She stood by his bed, her hands fisted and trembling at her sides. Her cheeks were hot and her eyes shone dangerously. He had never seen her this upset. "I might not be an expert on fighting, but I do know a thing or two about overthinking and having no one else to confide in. I know all about getting stuck in your own head because the only person you can rely on is yourself, and you start to feel like that's all there is. But you know what I learned? That there's strength in working with others, in learning to trust other people, even if they aren't perfect or it makes you feel vulnerable. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass for one friggin' minute, you could see that!"

Vegeta stood in the wake of her outburst, stunned, the clothing in his hand falling back in the drawer, all but forgotten.

When he didn't respond, Bulma made a frustrated sound and turned from him, heading for the door.

Where the hell was she going?

What the hell had she been screaming about?

What the hell was happening?

Deeply unsatisfied with the turn of events and his inability to respond appropriately, Vegeta beat her to the door, slamming it closed just as she started to pull it open. Nobody hit him and got away with it, and he certainly wasn't going to let her leave with the last word, not without him at least understanding what the fuck they were arguing about. He kept his hand on the door to block her exit.

"We're not done here," he growled.

"Well I am!" she said, tugging uselessly on the door handle. He might have laughed at her feeble attempt if she didn't sound so upset. She kept her head ducked down, hiding behind her bangs. "I have more important things to do than to stroke your ego," she spat, her insinuation heavy enough that he blushed. Damn, he wished he had put those shorts on.

"I'm not talking about that," he snapped. He tried to lean in to look at her, but Bulma turned her face away. It surprised him. She never backed down from a staring match. "I don't need you for that."

Bulma stopped tugging on the handle. Slowly, she bowed over it, crumpling up like burnt paper. She let out a strange, strangled laugh. It was weak and hollow, and Vegeta had the uncomfortable feeling she wasn't actually amused.

"N-no, why would you n-need me for sex?" she asked, her voice so broken he could barely make out her words. "Why would a-anyone need me for a-anything? Let's all just u-use Bulma when it's convenient, and l-leave her behind when it's not!"

Oh no.

She was crying?

Stunned, Vegeta stood helplessly by and watched her sob over the handle.

Holy shit. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave, she was standing in front of the exit. He could take the balcony window but that felt too cowardly. Besides, this was his room.

"Bulma," he said.

She kept crying, her heavy breathing hitching between sobs.

"Bulma," he tried again, a little louder this time. "I… don't know what the appropriate Earth custom is in this situation."

"Y-you can s-suck a dick," she sobbed.

"I fail to see how that—"

"O-oh my god, Vegeta, i-it's called sarcasm."

She continued crying, and Vegeta decided the best course of action was to let her.

After several minutes of heart-wrenching tears, Bulma finally calmed down. She wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve, then peered balefully at him from over her shoulder.

"You're still naked," she croaked.

"Good observational skills," he drawled. "Perhaps while you're in the enlightening mood, you would like to tell me what this is all about?"

She glanced away, wiping at her eyes some more.

"Nothing. I'm just surrounded by assholes." She looked at him again, wincing. "Metaphorically and literally. Could you please put something on? You're very…" she waved a hand at his physique, "distracting."

He grunted and left her to fetch his shorts. He pulled them on as Bulma curled up in his armchair, tucking her knees under her chin and looking generally miserable. He glanced around and finally decided to sit on the coffee table opposite her.

"Well?" he prodded.

She huffed, the air puffing up her bangs. "You struck a nerve, is all. Don't let it go to your ego."

"According to you, my ego's already at capacity. I think you're safe."

She smiled. It was a weak, fragile thing, but a smile nonetheless. He wasn't prepared to admit how relieved he was to see it.

"You humans are too sensitive, too emotional," he lectured her in the kindest voice he could muster. "You need to be more like us. Crush your feelings like you would your enemies. They will only hurt you."

Bulma arched a skeptical brow. "Wow, how barbaric."

"It is the warrior way."

"I'm honestly surprised hearing all that from you."

"Me?" he asked, frowning. He was a paradigm of Saiyan stoicism.

"Yes. I mean, take Son. He's always been so carefree, you know? Hardly ever gets angry or sad or jealous. Emotionally, he's neutral. But you? Jeez, Vegeta, you're a hornets nest of emotion. One poke, and all hell breaks loose. Sure, it's mostly anger, but still. You can't feel anger unless you feel something. Same for depression."

His eyes narrowed. "Who said I was depressed?"

Bulma shrugged. "I do, I guess."

"Tch. You are delusional."

"Pot, meet kettle."

"What?" he asked, truly baffled now.

Bulma sighed, shaking her head. "Earth expression. Never mind."

They both lapsed into silence.

Vegeta bristled with indignation. It was irksome to think she had been watching him and jumping to ridiculous conclusions about his mental state. Didn't she have anything better to do?

As far as he knew, she did. From what he could tell she worked nearly as much as he did, toiling away in her lab while he labored in the gravity room day after day. And when that didn't satisfy, surely there were other people that she could pester? Like the Namekians, there were dozens of those bastards… well, had been. Vegeta frowned, realizing it had been months now, maybe even a year since they left. Okay, forget the Namekians. She had her parents. Not that they were around much, and when they were their conversations were limited to social niceties and scientific research. Not exactly riveting. So that just left Bulma with Kakarot's little group of idiots. At least they could prove amusing, in the same way it was amusing to watch ants scatter from strategically placed ki blasts. What were their names again? Vegeta struggled to recall, he hadn't heard their names in months, much less seen their faces, not even Scar-face who had been sniffing around her…

Oh.

Vegeta's head jerked up, looking at Bulma with large eyes.

She was just as alone as he was. Only, she hid it better. Or maybe she didn't but he was too self centered to notice before now because when did he ever think of anyone besides himself? It never crossed his mind that the only social interaction she might get was with him. Every word she spoke, every smile she gave him hadn't been some trick but an attempt to connect with him, to ease that all consuming emptiness he knew too well: loneliness.

"What?" she grumbled, her fingers toying with the hem of her pants. "You look like you swallowed a fly."

Vegeta hesitated. What should he say, if he should say anything at all? This was clearly a touchy subject, a matter of her pride (that, he could understand), and he had accidentally rubbed salt in her wound. Normally, that would please him but not now, not with her. Whatever this was that they had going on, this weird symbiotic relationship, Vegeta didn't want it ruined. Not because of any sappy sentimentality; he was no idiot. He needed her for pragmatic reasons. She was good at fixing things, and he was a broken weapon.

"I don't… distrust you," he admitted.

Bulma blinked up at him, frowning, trying to puzzle out this sudden confession. "What?"

Feeling oddly self-conscious, Vegeta looked down at his hands. It was ingrained in his DNA to trust no one, but as far as his trust scale went (from As bad as Frieza, to, I'll kill you last), Bulma ranked pretty highly.

"You were saying something about learning to trust people," he grumbled by way of explanation.

Bulma let out a wry sound. "Ah. Given up on the idea that I'm trying to poison you?"

"Well, if you mean to, you're taking your damn time about it."

"Believe me, it's a daily temptation," she drawled, giving him a lopsided smile. "Maybe I'm poisoning you slowly, a little bit each day?"

He smirked back. "No, I don't think poison is your style."

"No?"

"No. You're more Saiyan than that."

"Me?" she asked, stunned by his compliment.

Vegeta's smirk grew. "Yes. You're far more direct. And violent. You wanted to kill the androids at the source. You socialize with fighters. You even resort to violence yourself," he said, glancing over to where his chest plate rested on the floor.

Her gaze followed his, her lips curling up at the memory of hitting him.

"And," he added, leaning forward, his voice dipping lower. He braced his arms on her chair, trapping her between it and him. "You go right for what you want. Without mercy."

It pleased him to see her pupils dilate at his proximity.

"That's being Saiyan?" she asked, not backing away. They watched each other, like two predators circling, waiting for some unspoken signal to pounce.

"Very," he purred.

They continued reading each other. Her eyes were still pink from crying, but Vegeta could see the wheels of her mind in motion, calculating, weighing options, assessing him. Did she dare give him another chance?

"So, what do you want, Vegeta?" she asked, her voice laced with suggestion, the question curling around him.

That warm, triumphant feeling of victory once again swelled inside.

He grabbed the arms of her chair and pulled. The legs squealed as he yanked her closer. She gasped in alarm, her eyes going wide as he brought her close enough for their knees to press together and their noses to touch. He snatched her up by her tiny waist and pulled her against him.

"I want to be a Super Saiyan," he growled, his words bristling with his hunger. He could taste the transformation. It felt ever present, looming ethereally in the back of his mind, like a figure in his peripheral vision that vanished when looked at directly. He would do anything to claim it, even if it meant claiming her. Especially if it did.

"Is that all?" she asked, so quiet he thought he had imagined her speak. Her hands splayed on his chest, the last vestige of her resistance.

Was that all? They both knew what she meant: did he want her? He did, he could admit that now, but was it because she could help him attain his goal, or because there was something compelling about her?

Vegeta raised a hand, fingering a soft blue curl, trying to puzzle her out. Her hair slipped against his rough skin like silk. He pressed on it, flattening the curl in his grip, but the moment he let it go the curl sprang back to life. So much like its owner. She was like no one he had ever known, or rather, bothered to get to know. Most people he held this close would be filling the air with death pleas, not pheromones of desire.

He nuzzled her cheek to better inhale her smell, and a tremor of want shuddered through him, pooling in his cock. Her breathing was quickening, and he heard her whimper as one hand slipped under the back of her shirt. He used the other to caress her face, brushing his thumb against her cheek and down her slender throat, ghosting over her pulse. There, a mark from his mouth colored her skin. Something possessive curled in his gut.

No, he couldn't say why he wanted her. Self-honesty wasn't his strong suit. But whatever the motivation was, he did want her. Now.

Wrapping his fingers about the back of her neck, Vegeta pulled her mouth against his. "I want to learn to let go, inside of you," he confessed hotly.

Bulma's lips trembled, her arms caving, giving in. "What makes you think you can?"

"Because I don't stop until I've mastered a technique."

~xox~

AN: Sorry for the delay on this prompt. On top of life stuff, I ended up re-writing this three times, so it took longer than anticipated. Hope it was worth the wait tho. Thanks to stupidoomdoodles for some detailed encouragement ^_^