06 - Guilty Pleasure
(edited slightly to comply to FFNet rules. Read the full uncensored version on AO3 or tumblr)
Agony. Vegeta was no stranger to the concept, but Bulma was testing his limits of endurance as she ground her little hips against his lap, her lips brushing achingly sweet over his mouth.
He did his damnedest not to take control. That would defeat the purpose of the exercise. Let go. Let it happen. Be in the moment.
Easier said than fucking done. His fingers twitched, impatient to end this slow torture and throw her down on the bed for a good hard eyes were an electric storm, darkened by dilated pupils. Grinding against his erection, tiny whimpers of need escaped her, calling to the caged beast in him — long overdue to be set free — begging for him to rut with her.
"You're burning up," Bulma gasped against his kiss-bruised lips. She wasn't wrong, he felt on fire, but so did she, a fire nymph disguised in water colors. She pried herself off his torso and, grabbing the hem of her shirt, lifted it over her head to give him an unobstructed view of her breasts. Rose-petal nipples perked cutely up at him.
Holy shit… What did you do when faced with two perfect pale breasts? Vegeta didn't know and couldn't think of anything because all the blood in his brain had committed mutiny, leaving his thoughts to flatline. Tearing his gaze away, he looked up at her face in helpless appeal.
A confident smile curled her lips. "Now we're equal," she purred, stroking his bare chest. They were both topless, but there was nothing equal about their situation, not when he was pinned under her and shackled by some arbitrary rule not to take control. His internal agony must have shown because she took pity on him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck and allowing her soft breasts to graze against his pectorals. A shudder of pleasure went through him.
"Fuck," he groaned. Nerves ignited at the touch of her soft skin against his rough, scarred body. In all his years of planet purging, he had never encountered anyone like her, so untainted. What the hell had he done to land this rare treasure in his lap?
He grabbed her hips before remembering he wasn't supposed to, and let his hands fall away.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"You said I had to let go."
She nuzzled his jaw. "I meant let go of your obsessive control issues, not for you to go limp on me." He scowled. He was anything but limp. Bulma encouraged him to put his hands back on her waist, all the while her warm breath tickled his cheek. "Mm, that's better. I like your hands on me."
These hands? That had killed so many, destroyed so much? There was something seriously wrong with her, but he gripped her tighter nonetheless.
"Besides," Bulma added. "The real issue is you're still controlling yourself, aren't you? Holding back."
Goddamn her. "If you're so fucking smart, then tell me what I'm supposed to do," he snapped, glaring at her in frustration.
The smile she gave him was equal parts sweet and sin, and made him swallow nervously. "What do you want right now, more than anything else?"
He glared at her with suspicion.
She laughed. "C'mon, homeboy. Confess."
Hadn't they just been over this? "The Super Sai—"
She pressed a finger to his lips, stopping him mid-sentence which he thought was awfully rude. No one shut him up. "Liar. That's your dream, but that's not what you want right this second, is it?" As if to prove a point, she began a slow roll, grinding up and down the length of his erection. He bit back a moan. "There are more pressing matters than besting Goku right now, aren't there?" she teased.
"Tch." Fucking hell…
Pressing her breasts snuggly against him, Bulma let him go and started fingering the hair at the nape of his neck. "Let me guess… You want to do something to me?"
Visions of her spread under him as he pistoned in and out filled his mind. He refused to answer her, but she didn't need him too, continuing her slow torture against his straining need. He swelled, growing heavier by the second. Throbbing. Fuck.
"Would you like to cum inside me?" she whispered hotly against his mouth, her eyes pinning his.
A strangled groan betrayed him. She grinned in triumph. Fuck her, fuck this. Why had he agreed to this moronic exercise?At least when he trained he knew the suffering that he was getting himself into. This, this was cruel.
"Or maybe," she purred, licking at his mouth, "Maybe you want me to do something to you? I recall you enjoyed my hand."
God, no. He wouldn't last seconds if she did that, not now, as hard as he was. But she had already opened the zip to his shorts by the time he thought to protest. Slender fingers slipped inside and found him. [He] jumped in her hand like a puppy eager for its master's touch.
"F-uck." The word was torn from between his clenched teeth as she started stroking him.
"Shh, there's a good boy," she soothed.
Normally he would tell her to fuck off calling him of all people 'good' or a boy, but his vitriol abandoned him, dissipating like smoke in the wind as his whole world centered on what she was doing with her magic fingers. She pressed on some sweet spot that caused him to buck and whimper humiliatingly against her cheek, [] drooling over her hand.
"Mm, that's it," she crooned. "Doesn't it feel good to let someone else help you? Just give in, Vegeta. Let go."
A soft growl escaped him, a tortured thing, a mixture of frustration, pain, and helplessness. He struggled with himself to do as she said, warring with his better nature to keep his walls up, to take the lead, to not use her and just… enjoy.
His mind and heart might have been conflicted, but his body wasn't. She played him so expertly that within a minute he felt a familiar swell rushing towards him. Her other hand dragged fingernails down his chest, and her mouth whispered sweet nothings in his ear, telling him how hard and strong and magnificent he was, and he was done done done. With a strangled cry he grabbed her and thrust up, spilling himself [].
And there, just for the briefest of moments, floating, barely perceptible, he felt something he had never felt before.
Free.
"Oh, good boy, you came so quickly for me," she purred, still easing him through the aftershocks. Her honeyed words rolled over him like a summer breeze. How badly he wanted to believe them, and he felt instantly ashamed for doing so.
Breathing heavily, he grabbed her hand to slow her down. "I am not a good boy," he hissed, his voice hoarse and deeper than usual.
Bulma laughed, a warm, breathless sound. Pressing her silken breasts to his sweaty chest, she husked, "Prove me wrong."
Even the smell of his freshly spilt seed couldn't mask how badly she wanted him. Lucky for her, Saiyans recovered quickly. His lips curled up in a sadistic little smile, and he scooped her into his arms, carrying her over to the bed to show her just how much of a bad man he could be.
~xox~
Of all the people in his life, Vegeta supposed his father had been the most gentle, if you could call the King that. Bulma wouldn't, in fact she would be appalled to learn all the things that his father had put him through, but next to others like Zarbon and Frieza, his father's brief guardianship had been the most lenient. So it wasn't that surprising that Vegeta didn't understand the concept of a nurturing mentor. Experience had been his teacher, and it taught him cruel but valuable lessons. Strength meant power. Power meant control. Control meant freedom.
And above all else, he had learned to never rely on or trust anyone. Ever.
Except Bulma was turning those theories on their head. Vegeta wasn't sure how much he bought into her way of thinking, but he was willing to explore their possibilities, especially if the payoff meant gaining the Legendary.
Bulma was a much different teacher than he was used to. She nurtured him, guiding him with her body as much with positive reinforcement. It was unsettling to always wait for ridicule or pain, for the other shoe to drop that never did. Little by little, his reservations started to crack. Learning from her was… nice. Or maybe that was just the sex.
Holy fuck, the sex. It wasn't some quick passionless fuck to scratch an itch. He came to appreciate her lessons. A lot. From the first time he pinned her to the bed he was hooked, devouring her, his nose leading him between her legs to lap at that exquisite smell she gave off around him. She liked that, squealing and grabbing his hair, rutting herself against his mouth like a cat in heat.
He finally sank into her, fulfilling his promise [], all the while her eyes desperately locked onto his and her body shivered under him like a broken bird. Drowning, he lost himself in her for just a moment as she clung to him for salvation. Him, save something. Ridiculous…
Yet he dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, she was right. He could unlock some hidden part of himself, whatever that elusive component was, and reach the Super Saiyan form. It was there, right there. With her help, he could touch it.
She was his tool, a stepping stone in reaching his goal. Visiting her was nothing more than an exercise. After practicing his katas in the GR, he would visit her to practice 'letting go'. That's all it was, just training. Nothing more. It didn't matter that he found himself looking forward to the evenings, that he started ending his training earlier to meet her, that he lingered longer and longer in her bed afterwards, sometimes sleeping there until dawn, waking up with his arm over her tiny waist and her nose buried against his chest. She could have killed him in his sleep but he had trusted her not to, and she him. He refused to acknowledge the guilty pleasure she had become. What of it, so long as it gave him what he wanted.
The Super Saiyan. It was there. Right there…
He grew stronger, by day he pushed the limits of the GR and his body, and by night he learned how to make her arch and claw the sheets and scream his name until the whole house rattled with it. But months dragged on, and time was running out.
…It wasn't working. They had already lost half the time before the androids were due to arrive, and as far as transformations went, he was still impotent. Every day, every hour that he didn't change added to the weight on his shoulders that he bore in the burning red intensity of the GR. He couldn't make it happen. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. How had Kakarot done it? HOW?!
The screen in the GR came on. Turning angry eyes to Bulma's projected image, his body buckling under 450 times Earth gravity, Vegeta snarled at her disruption. "What is it?"
"You missed dinner."
Was it that late already? "That's what you're interrupting me about?" he snapped.
She hesitated. That was unlike her. "…Are you joining me tonight?"
He looked away and grunted. "Later."
"Okay…"
The screen turned off, leaving him unsettled. He pushed through training for another couple of hours, just so Bulma didn't get the impression that she could command his time. He tried to clear his head and find that quietness where he just was, the same feeling he got when he spent himself inside her, panting raggedly against her pale throat. He powered up, charging his ki and building his rage. I AM VEGETA, PRINCE OF ALL SAIYANS. I DEMAND MY BIRTHRIGHT! The GR trembled. Drones shattered and the lights flickered, but all he managed to do was exhaust himself.
God fucking damnit.
After a shower where the water felt tepid next to his burning frustration, Vegeta made his way to her room. She was in bed, her naked shoulder peaking out from beneath the sheets. It was all the invitation he needed. He stripped off and climbed in next to her.
"How was your day?" she asked, turning to greet him, reaching out to brush her thumb over his furrowed brow.
He grabbed her hand and pinned it down because she liked it, and because he was in no mood for tenderness right now. Ignoring her question, he dived right for her throat and bit her this side of too-hard.
His reward hit his nose as her pheromones burst to life. She moaned and tried to fight him off. Cute.
"W-wait, Vegeta, I have something to tell you," she protested weakly.
"Later," he snapped. Licking up her beating pulse, he found another of her weak points right behind her ear and grazed it with his teeth, pressing her into the mattress with his body. Her shiver of submission ignited his own lust.
"It's important," she whined, but her words were already breathy, her legs falling apart to allow him between.
What could be more important than this, then helping him achieve the Super Saiyan? He pushed inside []in one rough thrust, and didn't stop moving.
"Ah! Not so rough—" she protested, so he kissed her complaints away but didn't slow down. He was frantic, manic, driving himself into her in search of an answer he couldn't find inside himself. She was such a vulgar thing and came quickly, []. He did not cave, []moving harder than before until she crumbled and sobbed and came again, and this time he followed.
But there was no peace, no floating euphoria. Only a grey buzzing noise filled his mind, and a sick weight grew in his gut.
He pulled away and left her there, wet, used, and gasping in bed as he retreated to the privacy of the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror glared back.
It was a lie. It had been a lie all this time, one he had foolishly given himself in to. How did he think he was supposed to find the answer of a Saiyan legend between the legs of some pathetic human woman? She wasn't helping him, she was sabotaging him. All this time he could have been training longer and harder, but instead he distracted himself with pleasures of the flesh. How pathetic did she think he was, wrapped around her little finger?
His hands gripped the bathroom sink, and the porcelain cracked under his grip.
Enraged, he grabbed some tissue and wiped away the evidence of their sex, throwing the used paper in the trash where it fell on top of a strange plastic strip with two blue lines that smelled vaguely of ammonia.
He stormed back into the room to grab his clothes.
"You're not spending the night?" she asked, the blanket pulled over her waist but her breasts were on full display. He kept his eyes averted, his mouth turning down sourly.
"I'm leaving," he said as he pulled on his pants.
"Wait, leaving? Vegeta, I have to tell you—"
"Tell me what, Bulma?" he exploded, teeth gnashing. "About how much of a colossal waste of time this has been? I tried it your way and it failed. I won't have you holding me back any more, understand?"
He glanced at her to make sure she did. The look in her eyes haunted him all the way out into space.
~xoXox~