Bulma wasn't surprised when she found Trunks passed out on the bed in the room that once belonged to Vegeta. The nearly three year old boy had begun asking countless questions about his father recently and Bulma had answered the best she could.
She couldn't fully explain why his father was gone, only that he had fought a great battle two years prior- the same battle that cost Gohan and Goten their dad - and hadn't returned since. All the Z-fighters had told her that they couldn't sense Vegeta's ki on Earth anymore and Bulma shared her speculations with her son: that his papa had gone back to the stars where he came from to fight for what he believed in. She didn't tell Trunks that she wasn't sure what Vegeta ever believed in, if anything beyond becoming the greatest warrior in the universe.
Trunks had been shown the few photos they had of his papa, all of them where he stood in the background with his arms crossed and looking away. He'd never allowed any photos to be taken of him, but he had inadvertently been in some without knowing it.
She wished that she could give Trunks more than those blurred pictures, but it was all she had. He still looked at the photos many times for minutes at a time - a big accomplishment for a small child like him - and even tried to pull his hair into the same flame shape that his father sported, often acting miffed when his hair fell into his eyes after he let it go. She didn't feel too sad that Trunks had inherited her hairline though.
To soothe his curiosity and perhaps longing for his absent father, Trunks had started to sneak into Vegeta's old room which had been left untouched by her and her parents in silent hope that he might need it again one day. Trunks would look through the empty drawers and the closet filled with human clothes rarely worn.
It didn't take him long to discover the box under the bed which held Vegeta's old armor, the ones he'd been killed in by Frieza. The small boy would skate his fingertips over the unearthly fabric, but never dare to remove it from the box. He did, however, take the spare pair of white gloves he found on the nightstand. They smelled like old sweat and Bulma frankly wanted to throw them out, but tonight she was glad she hadn't.
Tonight wasn't the first evening she'd found him sleeping on Vegeta's bed, but it was a first that Trunks had pulled on the too-big gloves and now rested his little head on his gloved hands as he slept curled up on the well made bed. She suspected the gloves soon would replace his favorite plushie which he usually took with him everywhere; it now lay forgotten on the floor.
Bulma should move Trunks into his own bed, but she found herself unable to remove him from the last place that bound him to his longed-for papa. She herself had spent time in his room after his disappearance, wondering when he might return; she stopped going there when she realized he wouldn't.
She took a picture of the precious moment, then went to get a warm blanket to cover Trunks with. He could sleep here for the night. He'd already started sleeping in a big boy bed and hadn't fallen off it even once; she didn't fear that he'd fall out of the king-sized guest bed that was once used by his father.
When she finally pulled herself away from the sight of her sweet boy whose face always had a little scowl - even in his sleep - just like Vegeta, she dragged her tired body two doors down where her own bedroom was. She quickly went through her bedroom routine before crawling into bed, falling asleep almost immediately after another day of being a scientist, CEO of a multimillion company and the single mother of one lively half-Saiyan.
Bulma didn't notice the time when she was awoken by Trunks' screams, but was instinctively on her feet in an instant to go to him. She'd just gotten to the door when it burst open and her boy came running inside, slamming his small body into her legs.
For a few seconds the room was silent, except from the sound of heavy rain falling outside and Trunks' tiny gasps. She took the opportunity to fully wake up and remember why her son was wearing a large glove on his hand; he must've dropped the other.
"What's wrong, baby?" She asked softly, pulling him back a little, so she could kneel in front of him and look him in the eye. He had a haunted expression on his face and his tiny hands shook as he wrapped his arms as far around her as he could.
"I see a-a-a monster in Papa wroom," he stammered in his childish way of speaking. He was already ahead of his peers in most areas, but he was still barely three years old; especially the struggle with pronunciation was a hurdle she looked forward for him to overcome, so she didn't have to translate to others what he was saying.
"A monster?" She asked calmly, yet seriously. While he had nightmares like any other kid, she never told like monsters didn't exist. She'd seen her share of them and considering how many she'd come across in her life, she wouldn't dismiss the possibility of a monster showing up. Especially not in the room that belonged to Vegeta who, as far as she knew, had many enemies in the universe. "Can you tell me what it looked like?"
The boy shook his head, lifting a gloved hand to rub at his teary eyes; the other glove seemed to have been lost somewhere between her bedroom and Vegeta's when Trunks ran from there. "Too dark. But it was dwipping with water," he shivered as he looked behind him to check if the creature was standing there. "I heard dwipping on da floor."
Bulma looked out at her balcony where rain was beating against the glass doors. If her mom had opened the balcony doors in Vegeta's room to air out as she sometimes did, the rain would certainly make a lot of noise and wake Trunks. But she hadn't noticed the doors being open when she'd been in there before bed.
"Let's go check on the monster. Maybe it was lost and came through the balcony doors, but left when it saw that it wasn't its house," she said to validate his claim, even if nothing was there as she suspected.
She rose from the floor and threw on a robe before taking his hand. He trailed a little behind her as she walked out of her bedroom and down the hall. Even before reaching the room, she could hear the wind whip the curtains around and the heavy rain pattering on the adjacent balcony, and inwardly praised herself for telling him that the monster probably had been lost. She could close the doors and get him into his own bed without fuss if he thought the creature was gone.
Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that met her as she casually walked into the room and saw a black figure standing there in the dark. She very nearly screamed, but managed to strangle it in her throat; it wouldn't do to scare Trunks further or attract the figure's attention.
For a second she stood frozen, the only sounds the heavy rain outside and Trunks hyperventilating as he saw the figure as well. Then she heard the dripping from the long, limp hair as water slid from the wet strands and fell onto the plush carpet.
The figure was the same height as her and quite lean, but incredibly imposing, its presence filling the room. The body was a hard mass of tense muscles, so bulbous and powerful beyond what a human being could ever hope to achieve. She knew the body well, or at least she had once upon a time.
He didn't look at them. His gaze was on the bed or the floor; she wasn't sure which. Maybe he didn't want to acknowledge them or hadn't even noticed them. Whatever it was, it was clear that he wasn't himself since he hadn't yelled at her yet.
No longer afraid of what she was seeing, now that she had recognized him, she turned her back on the figure and knelt down in front of Trunks again; his eyes were still wide and locked on the being behind her, and she had to tilt his chin towards her to make him focus on her.
"Listen, sweetheart, this is an old friend of Mommy's. He hasn't been here in a long time and probably thought this room was empty. I think he's pretty tired though, so let's leave him be. Maybe you can meet him tomorrow."
Trunks seemed hesitant and stared back at the figure which still hadn't moved, but he followed without question when she rose from the floor, took his hand again and tugged him out of the room. Right before she closed the door to give their guest some privacy, he lifted his dark eyes to stare at her. She gave him a pointed look saying Stay right there and closed the door.
She led Trunks to his room as though he hadn't just encountered an unknown intruder at the end of the bed he'd fallen asleep in. If she took him to her bedroom to let him sleep there, he would think something was amiss with the stranger and she didn't want him to worry. He knew that if his Mommy acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, he could relax.
After she'd tucked him into bed, he hugged the single glove he had been holding as though it was a lifeline. "Mommy, will your fwiend stay in Papa wroom?" It was clear that he was torn between wanting the stranger to stay put and yet getting out of his Papa's room.
"Yes, but he won't mess it up. I promise." Trunks nodded to her, yawning and closing his eyes. It took less than a minute for his breathing to slow, his grip on the glove loosening a bit as he drifted off to sleep.
Bulma rose from her son's bed, taking a deep breath. She was really too exhausted to deal with anything right now, but she didn't want him to run either. Besides, he might actually be broken in some way and might stand in the same spot for hours, ruining the carpet with that rainwater. She sighed, resigning herself to dealing with the mess that was her former lover and the father of her child.
When she opened the door and walked into his old room, Vegeta was standing in the exact same spot where she'd left him. His head bent, his eyes staring down. She could see now that he was looking at Trunks' favorite plushie which had been left on the floor; a custom-made Oozaru, a poor attempt by Gohan to teach the boy about their Saiyan roots. Trunks had become very attached to it, despite its somewhat sinister expression. Next to it was the lost, white glove that Trunks had been sleeping with.
Vegeta was wearing his old armor, although it was beyond tattered. It looked like someone had tried to stitch it up, but had failed spectacularly. His hair and clothes were still dripping water, and as Bulma slowly approached, she felt how soggy the carpet was becoming under her bare feet. He needed to get out of the soaked clothes and dry his hair; if nothing else, then to spare the carpet.
She opened her mouth to speak to him, but before she could, he snapped his head up to look at her and turned his body, grabbing her biceps with cold, trembling hands, his eyes wide and almost feral.
"Why," he stared at her with accusation in his voice and in his eyes, along with undeniable desperation, "Why can't I stop thinking about you? You and that-" his gaze flickered for a second behind her towards the hallway, his voice cracking as he spoke, "brat…"
She gaped at him, unsure of what to say. He'd been out of their lives for two years and, although she saw him every day in her son's features, she had taught herself not to miss him. She would never have guessed that he even spared them a thought at all.
"I left to get away from you and your insufferable presence in my life, but you persistently hold onto me! Why do I have to be haunted by your existence, the knowledge that you are here?" He sounded indignant and yet pained in a way that felt awfully familiar to Bulma; she'd felt similarly after he'd left them.
It created a burning anger in her that she hadn't felt for a long time. He might have been rattled by his attachments to them, but he had taken a choice that left them with none: he had left them without a chance for resolution, without knowing what had become of him or whether he would return.
Despite how he had treated them in the end like they didn't exist, she had waited for him. She'd known how foolish she was for doing so, but she had hoped that he would come back and be there; if not for her, then for their son.
But he hadn't. And she had come to accept that. She'd let him go. His room was there because she couldn't outrule the possibility that he would be back and, frankly, she didn't want to bother clearing it out. She had once asked her mother to do so, but Panchy had firmly dismissed it, certain that Vegeta would come back.
Now that he had, Bulma wasn't sure that she wanted him here at all. She was suddenly reminded of how angry he could make her with his self-important attitude and his innate suspicion that everyone was trying to keep him down, even when she and her parents had done nothing but help him. It infuriated her beyond words; not that it would stop her from speaking her mind.
She twisted her body as she stepped away from him to make his hands let go of her. She was well aware that he was choosing to release her as it would take nothing for him to hold her in place. Even that enraged her, that he somehow held all the cards. He could fly away, leaving her again, and she could do nothing to stop him.
But she could give him a piece of her mind. "Listen, bub, you can't just show up after two years, burst in here and blame me for whatever feelings you seem to have caught. I have done nothing to keep you here. I never tried to guilt you into parenting our son or even care about any of us. I knew from the start that I couldn't get you to do anything you didn't want, so I didn't try."
He was sneering at her, but she could see in his eyes that he was listening and she decided to keep going, her finger lifted as she did; had she dared to get closer to the man she no longer knew, she would've poked him in the chest like she used to. "I don't know what you've been doing in the past two years, but we have moved on. You have no obligations here, you never did. It's clearly easier for you to blame me because gods forbid you actually have to deal with your feelings, but whatever you are feeling is entirely on you!"
Her words seemed to anger him further and he slowly stepped closer to her. She wasn't afraid though and stood her ground, crossing her arms. "And if you think you can intimidate me in my own home, you obviously don't know me at all. I may be weak, but this whole compound is littered with weapons that can take even you down."
He growled, but stopped coming closer. "You have no idea how close I came to destroying your pathetic little planet. If you had seen the energy I had been ready to throw at this mudball, you'd ha-"
"But you didn't," she smirked, knowing she had him. Of course she had always known that he could destroy Earth at any second, but she knew now that even though he had wanted to - had wanted to get rid of his attachment to this planet - he had been unable to go through with it. No matter how cruel and detached he thought himself to be, he was in fact incapable of letting them go. "Whether you like it or not, you're too attached to Earth." To us.
The air went out of him and she got the distinct feeling that she'd just said something he already knew. He fell back on the bed, slumping down with his elbows on his knees, his back hunched over as he buried his face in his hands underneath his wet bangs. "You softened my mind, my…" heart, he didn't say, but she knew that it was what he felt. He lowered his hands and lifted his earnest eyes to hers, revealing the fact that he knew she understood what he hadn't said.
She softened a bit, despite her common sense, and noticed that he was shivering. The incomprehensible compassion - the one that had made her invite a homeless, coldblooded killer into her home all those years ago after they returned from Namek - resurfaced at the miserable sight of the broken Saiyan before her. After a little deliberation she finally said, "Come on, let's get you into a hot shower and some dry clothes."
She went into the en suite bathroom to turn on the shower. When he didn't follow her, she poked her head into the bedroom. "Don't think that the rain can hide the stench filling up the room," her tone was snide and commanding, something that had always worked on him, "get out here."
This time as she walked back into the bathroom which was filling with steam, she could hear him rise from the bed and follow her, his boots squeaking slightly from the water in them. It was comically endearing and she held back a snigger as the squaky warrior entered the bathroom.
She found a large bath towel and a smaller one for his hair, as well as one to soak the worst of the water out of the carpet for now. In the cabinets she found some bodywash and shampoo, both recently bought; her mom had really kept the room up to date as though she knew he would return.
When Bulma turned around to put down the items by the shower stall, she came face to face with Vegeta who'd silently been standing behind her. She hadn't even felt him there. It took her a few seconds of staring into his deep, dark eyes hidden beneath his flopping hair before she realized that he was naked. Heat rose on her face at first, but it pooled into her lower stomach as her eyes inadvertently drifted down to the rock hard muscles on his upper body, taking in the way the clean cut lines of his abdomen led into the V of his-
Her head snapped up and her face reddened as she realized Vegeta had caught her looking; not that she had been very discreet about ogling him. A once familiar smirk almost took over the hard frown he'd had from the moment she'd first seen him tonight, a dark glint flashing in his gaze. She knew that she had to get out of there immediately and practically set into a sprint as she bolted out the door, slamming it behind her.
How could he affect her this way after so long? She'd hated him for months before accepting that it was of no use and instead had focused on moving on. It had been working, slowly but surely. But now that he'd returned, she felt as though she was the same woman she was two years ago.
However, she wasn't the same. She was no longer the distraught Bulma Briefs who had been left to deal with the loss of her best friend, along with the loss of her almost-lover and her future son with whom she'd gotten close, while juggling single motherhood and running a multibillion zeni company. She'd grown stronger, both mentally and emotionally. It took much more to rattle her resolutions nowadays, even though she'd already been strong-willed before.
He couldn't just come back here and expect to- what? So far, he had not mentioned why he had returned or even for how long. She reminded herself not to get her hopes up; he could up and leave tonight if he found no reason to stay. And that would be for the best… wouldn't it?
As these thoughts rummaged through her head, she changed the wet sheets of his bed after he'd sat there for a short while, soaking them through. She considered if she should find some food for him, but decided against it; he knew where the kitchen was, he could do it himself. Instead she found some clothes for him which she laid out on the bed. She also took the sheets to the laundry chute before taking Trunks' monkey plushie into his room where it belonged, giving Vegeta plenty of time to finish his shower and dress.
She stood for a minute in silence beside Trunks' bed, watching the serenity on his face while she considered going to bed. Her mom had taught her that she should show hospitality to guests, but Vegeta didn't really count as a guest, did he? Besides, she owed him nothing.
This time she felt him come up behind her and, if she didn't know any better, he walked with a strange hesitancy radiating from him. He kept his distance from her as he moved past her to place a white glove in Trunks' bed; the one he'd lost in his Papa's old room. It was odd to see him in human clothes again, even with a new pair of gloves, but then again it was just odd seeing him at all.
Bulma chanced a glance to the side to gauge Vegeta's mood, even though she knew his face would show no emotion if he could help it. But to her surprise, she saw a faint sadness in his frowning features, one she hadn't expected at all. He was looking down at their son sleeping peacefully and almost appeared… regretful.
She didn't know what to say or do. Was he troubled that he had scared the boy? It didn't seem much like him, but it's pure instinct for any person - parent or not - not to want to wake a sleeping child. Perhaps that's why he was here: to ensure that Trunks was serenely asleep and would stay that way.
"He was just startled," she said, not in a comforting tone, but explanatory, "he hadn't expected to see anyone in there. It's usually empty."
"It's fine, he… he doesn't know who I am," he mumbled and, once again, she felt a sense of regret coming from him. Not that it would make her pity him.
"He knows who his father is. He just couldn't recognize you without that silly flame-shaped hair which somehow manages to stay upright in 400 times Earth's gravity, yet yield under a little water," she joked to lighten the mood, although she did actually wonder how his hair worked. "But I've told him what I know about you and the Saiyan culture. He deserves to know where he came from, his roots."
Vegeta's hand reached out and almost touched the Oozaru plushie before withdrawing as though he had almost been burned. They stood in silence for some time. He didn't show any sign of having more to say. She yawned, a glance at Trunks' Capsule Corp. clock telling her that she only had a five hours to get the last of her beauty sleep.
"I'm gonna go to bed," she announced, nearly placing a hand on his bicep before realizing her mistake; they weren't that familiar anymore. "You're welcome to stay and… well," she didn't know what more to say. There was no way she could expect him to talk to them in the morning if he was even there. She didn't want to allow herself to expect him to do anything because she would end up sorely disappointed. "Goodnight," was what she settled on before walking out of the room and across the hall into her own.
Just as she crossed the threshold, she suddenly found herself being pressed against the closed door, the lock flipping into place. Vegeta had rushed past her at an impossible speed, closed the door and pushed her against it without her being able to perceive it until it had already happened.
He was crowding her space, trapping her against the door with his body and looking at her intently. She'd forgotten how mercurial he could be, but right now she was more aware of how he was making her feel as his black eyes stared into hers. Her heart began beating faster and her breathing turned shallow, however, she didn't feel scared of the man standing flush against her. It took a lot more to frighten her.
She took him in, allowing herself to study him in the light and closer than she had before. His hair was drying and starting to rise into his signature hairstyle, revealing the deep widow's peak beneath. It would make Trunks recognize him, even in the darkness, if the boy had been awake. Despite Vegeta's ever muscular body, his cheekbones were more pronounced; his face and neck were also slimmer, all signs that he had lost weight.
His eyes were as intense as ever, heated with a flickering flame, yet revealing none of his current thoughts. As always, his eyes held a dark solemness within them, revealing that his life hadn't ever been an easy one. Sometimes Bulma wondered if she was the only one who saw the deep desolation within the endless blackness of his gaze.
She wasn't sure what he wanted from her. Perhaps she would've known in the past, but things had changed. His lust for her was evident, but she wasn't sure if he was attempting to use it to intimidate her - it hadn't worked well in the past because she never backed down - or if he simply yearned for her and didn't have the words.
No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she knew that she wanted him as well. He'd always been able to make her weak with want, but she wouldn't openly admit it. She knew that he could smell her building desire, especially as his nostrils flared and his eyes glinted with knowledge, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of saying it.
Besides, she had no intention of giving into her traitorous body's impulses. Things had changed in the two years he'd been gone; hell, they'd changed even before then, when she'd become pregnant with Trunks. His opinion on it had been clear in his avoidance of her.
She stared at him with resolvement before easing herself out of his insistant entrapment. If he had wanted to keep her in place against her will, there was no way she could have moved, but he allowed her to do so. He'd always given her the choice to extract herself from the situation for which she was grateful.
"What do you want, Vegeta?" She asked, walking casually toward her bed. Having removed her body from his intoxicating proximity, his presence no longer sent sparks of need through her, and she mostly just wanted to go back to sleep.
When she crawled onto the bed, she allowed herself to glance back at him. She expected him to be angry that she'd spurned his silent advances, but instead she saw a man who looked utterly lost. His shoulders slumped forward, his head slightly lowered, but mostly she was startled by his eyes. They were pleading with her, his gaze filled with longing and regret; she'd never seen him look so desolate. This was a far cry from the smoldering look he'd given her moments ago.
"I ruined it, didn't I?" He murmured so quietly that she struggled to make out the words, even when the only other sound in the room was from the rain outside. She didn't reply, unsure of what he was trying to say. "I rejected you - both of you - and now I've ruined the best thing I ever had."
Of all the things she'd expected him to say in the unlikely case he returned, this was not it. She was shocked by his statement, unable to form an answer. In truth, she didn't have one.
"My pride and my stubborn ego has tried to refute what I felt for you time and again. I've never needed anyone in my life and I refused to accept that I needed-" he paused, clenching his fists. "I left in an attempt to forget you and how vulnerable you made me. But the truth is and has always been that you make me feel whole; like a real person. You even gave me an heir, the one thing I thought I would never have, and it terrified me that someone might rely on me because I knew I wasn't good enough. It was only confirmed when I couldn't..."
When he couldn't save Future Trunks. She'd heard how distraught he had been when their adult son had been killed, the first sign that Vegeta felt anything for any of them. But she hadn't thought further of it because Future Trunks had been revived shortly after. They had all gotten so used to being able to cheat death with the help of the Dragon Balls, but Vegeta hadn't. To him, losing the future version of their son had been permanent. It was likely the first time he lost someone he cared about since he lost his homeplanet and his parents with it. It changed her perception of his actions after the Cell Games. He must've been shaken to his core.
He inhaled shakingly as he closed the distance between them, sinking to his knees in front of her, and looked into her eyes with a startling sincerity. "I've traveled the universe to deny it, to bury the feelings inside me, but I can't run from the truth: I want to be good enough. I want to be here with you."
She was surprised by his confession, finding it so unbelievable that she wasn't sure she could trust his words. Perhaps he saw her hesitation in her gaze because he suddenly bent his head, breaking their eye contact. His hands fisted at his sides.
"I have treated you horribly and I left you without a word. Even upon returning, I scared our child and accused you of being the cause of my indecision. I lash out because it's easier to blame others than face my own failings... to bury my pride and accept that I need someone else. That all I want is to be with you.
"But I understand now that I've ruined my chance to be part of your life. All I ask is that… you continue to raise our son as you have been doing. He will be a better man than I."
He rose from the floor, his behavior ever so royal, and pointedly avoided her gaze as he turned to leave. There wasn't any sign that he expected her to stop him and it seemed to surprise them both when she did.
"Wait."
Her mind was reeling. She'd never heard him speak so much and the fact that he was sharing his feelings, his inner thoughts, confounded her even more. She had tried to knock down his walls back when they were together, but had only managed to scratch the surface. Every time she cracked a brick, he would enforce it when he realized his supposed vulnerability.
Now he had dropped a wall willingly and let her see a part of him that he'd kept well hidden. He had also revealed to her that, from his point of view, she held all the cards. He wanted to stay here with them, possibly be a part of their lives, and she could turn him away if she decided.
For once it wasn't the Gravity Room and bots that kept him here with her. It was her who held in her grasp the entire future he seemed to wish for himself. A future with them.
It was too much responsibility. Was he placing such a burden - his happiness - on her shoulders? It was ridiculous! There was only one person responsible for his future: himself. If he left, he was simply giving up.
She couldn't be what he wanted, she couldn't be the answer to all his problems and she couldn't be the one to decide what he did with his life. But she couldn't let him go either because, despite everything, she still loved him with all her heart.
He obviously wanted more than just her; he wanted to be in their son's life as well. If nothing else, he should stay for Trunks.
"You can still have a home here," she said cautiously, "a life. You have a son who wants nothing more than to see his father and learn from him. There's only so much I can teach a half Saiyan after all. You can show him how to live up to his potential. I know it's probably not what you'd planned to do with your life, but it's here if you want it."
He turned slightly, so she could see his profile, and nodded once. "I will accept my responsibility. As a father and as the last remaining full-blooded Saiyan. The Saiyan race will not die with me." He hesitated and she knew what he wanted to ask as his eyes carefully glanced her way.
"I don't know what it will mean for us," she looked down to her fiddling hands in her lap.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head in acceptance. "It's understandable. I brought you nothing but sorrow." The way he said the words made it clear how much he believed them.
"Well… that's not true. You gave me Trunks and I could never regret that. Besides, you helped me forget about Yamcha and made me realize that I deserve better than him. You challenged me, not just in our verbal fights, but also intellectually. You made me advance my research in robotic defenses and offenses as well as exploring my creations in higher gravity."
She'd really never realized that he'd influenced her in these ways until she said it out loud, but it was true. He had been one of the most influential people in her life, right after her father and Goku. "I was always the odd one out, even in the Z gang. But you made me feel like I was the most important person of the group, respected me for my intelligence and made me feel… like I wasn't just a background player, but valuable."
"You are," he said without pause, suddenly closer and staring unwaveringly at her.
"And you always believed in me," she finished with a small smile, rising from the bed to stand face to face with him. Her hands found his gloved ones, their fingers automatically entwining as though they did it every day. There was a dangerously familiar flutter rising in her stomach. "I've missed you for these last two years," she admitted.
"It hasn't just been two years for me… the Time Chamber, I- I went in there twice." Oh. She'd forgotten that two years had passed for him there, first with Future Trunks, then by himself. "I know all those years have been self-imposed by me, but…" he inhaled deeply shakingly, but kept his eyes locked on hers, "I have ached for your presence every moment in our time apart."
She knew what she did next was wrong on so many levels, but as she saw the sincerity in his eyes, his feelings reflecting her own, she couldn't stop herself from closing her eyes and leaning in to kiss him.
He didn't respond at first, uncertainty coming off him in waves as he stiffened. It wasn't until she let go of his hands and ran her fingers lightly up his arms until she could encircle his neck and press herself closer to him that he reacted.
It was like striking a match. His hands grabbed her hips and crushed her flush against him as he slanted his lips over hers, licking the seams of her mouth and urging her to allow him entrance. She happily acquisitioned, parting her lips and moaning as his tongue pushed inside to explore the cave of her mouth.
Vegeta's kisses had always been incredibly intense. When he kissed, it was with his whole body. He never did anything by halves and would bring his determination and single-mindedness into their intimate moments. It kept her mind from racing as it usually did, constantly thinking up new inventions or improvements. But never with him; he kept her in the present.
And oh, she'd missed it. Their chemistry had always been intense, a sizzling flame perpetually burning between them, and it seemed to burn brighter than ever. She wanted him, desperately, in spite of the years they'd been apart because of his insecurity, despite the fact that she didn't know if she could trust him to stay.
But it didn't matter. She needed this tonight. Hell, she deserved it. After a couple of years going on bad dates that at most ended with a disappointing goodnight kiss, she deserved a mind-blowing orgasm. And Vegeta had always delivered.
His gloved hands moved from her hips and over her curves, quickly pulling her robe away to reveal her body beneath. He paused their kiss and drew back to admire what he'd uncovered. Although she was a mother with a child who could burst into her bedroom at any moment, she still preferred to wear something luxurious to bed. Her most raunchy nightwear hadn't been used in years, but she had plenty of other nice things to wear.
Tonight she'd worn a red satin slip with simple lace trimmings at the V into her cleavage and the hem right above her knees. It hugged her curves, especially after her pregnancy, and left plenty to the imagination. But it was clearly enticing if the hunger in Vegeta's gaze was anything to go by.
One by one he took off his gloves and threw them on the floor, never taking his eyes off her. He closed the scant distance between them, his bare fingers lightly toying with the spaghetti straps on one shoulder while his other hand slowly lifted the hem of the slip up her thigh. Her body tingled where he touched her, her panties already damp.
He leaned in to claim her mouth again, but took his time to build up the intensity of their kiss. She followed his lead, relishing the opportunity to let someone else take the reins. On daily basis, it was her who took care of the company and made arrangements in their household. It was a relief to relinquish control to him in the privacy of her bedroom.
His hands explored her skin, caressing her back, her hips and her stomach. One hand slid into her hair and raked through it, making her moan, and she let her own hands skate into his hair and over his muscular form. She remembered every inch of him and though she could feel the new changes, noticed the new scars, he still felt like he belonged to her.
He slowly peeled the straps of her slip down her arms and helped the rest slide over her curves until it fell to her feet. She pulled at his shirt to even the playing field and he took it off without hesitation. He gently pushed her backwards until she had nowhere to go but to lean back on the bed and she went willingly, chased down by his lips.
His appreciation of her body was impossible to deny as he pulled back and took her in once more. She was only wearing a flimsy pair of black lace panties which left very little to the imagination. Her body was softer and rounder than it had been the last time he'd seen her naked, but she knew that she was still beautiful. He seemed to think so too.
After a few seconds of visually devouring her body, he lowered himself onto her, though keeping his weight off her, and kissed her mouth chastely before moving over her jaw and down her neck. He was taking his time with her, savoring it, likely aware that this was a one time thing until she knew if she could trust him; if staying really was his intention. In any case, it seemed that he was in no hurry to move things along. But she was.
She reached for his waistband and began tugging his pants off. When he didn't attempt to help her, so focused on kissing and nibbling her skin which only made her more desperate, she palmed his shaft through the thin fabric in the way. He paused his ministrations to groan loudly, reaching down to still her hand.
"Let me," he said hoarsely, his cheeks reddening, "it's been too long. I won't be able to…" He didn't elaborate, but he didn't need to. She wouldn't last very long either as riled up as she was. However, she was eager to feel his mouth on her again.
"Just… faster, please," she breathed heavily, staring down at him where he was nestled between her breasts. "I need you, Vegeta."
Those words had a profound effect on him as she knew they would. He wanted so badly to please her - he had always been like that in the time she'd known him - to show her how good he was at pleasuring her; his pride allowed him nothing else. The urge to impress and excel was deeply rooted within him and the only time she didn't feel bad about exploiting it was in their couplings where they both enjoyed it.
He moved quickly down her torso, foregoing the chance to use his mouth on her breasts. Instead he kneaded them with his hands, teasing her hardened nipples between his fingers as he kneeled on the floor by the bed and let his tongue dive into the wetness at the crux of her.
She cried out at the feeling of his dexterous tongue exploring her slick folds, a muffled moan escaping him as he lapped at her essence and entered her to drink further from her. Her thoughts clouded, pleasure the only thing on her mind as he reminded her what she'd been missing while he was away.
One of his hands left her breasts and, as his tongue zeroed in on her clit, a long finger slid into her core. She moaned, arching her back and rolling her hips to chase his mouth and the finger gliding in and out of her. It was joined by another, his fingers curling inside her and rubbing against the right spot on her outer wall.
It didn't take long of the concentrated stimulation to make her come hard, gasping his name as she gripped his hair and rode the waves of the most intense climax she'd had in years. He groaned in response, licking at her spilled desire as though he was thirsty for it. Even as she came down from her high, he lapped at the slick on her inner thighs.
"Come here," she said between labored breaths and pulled at his hair. Their eyes met and a shiver ran through her as she saw the dark fire in his black eyes directed at her. No one had ever made her feel so wanted as him and his yearning for her only seemed to have multiplied after their time apart.
He crawled up the bed over her, his arms wrapping around her as he kissed her ardently. Effortlessly he pulled her into the middle of her king size bed and settled between her parted legs, the thick length of his cock finding its place at her center.
She moaned into his mouth as he slid his hard shaft between her lower lips, making him slick with her arousal while stimulating her clit with every rock of his hips. His tongue dueled with hers as their urgency increased, their hands touching each other wherever they could reach. It felt as though he was everywhere all at once; everywhere except the one place she needed him.
Finally, he eased a hand between them and aligned them. Their mouths parted and he stared intently into her eyes as he slowly entered her.
She wanted to keep looking at him when she saw the unbridled pleasure when he filled her with one slow thrust, but her eyes closed at the intensity of feeling him fill her to the brink. She trembled beneath him and wrapped her legs around his waist, wanting him to make her feel this way forever.
He shuddered above her before he started to pull back, then drove back inside her, beginning the familiar dance as he fucked her. Her hips lifted to meet his with every thrust and she grabbed hold of his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh, though he probably didn't feel it.
Her eyes fluttered open and found him gazing down at her, slack-jawed and with adoration in his eyes as though she was his everything. "Bulma," he moaned between stuttering breaths, the affection in his voice surging through her body as her heart swelled. It was dangerous to allow her feelings for him to resurface and she pushed them down, closing her eyes again to focus on her pleasure.
It didn't take long for his thrusts to turn erratic, his desperate grunts alerting her that he couldn't hold on much longer. But neither could she, her climax having been steadily building since he entered her. He seemed to feel how close she was and gripped her ass to tilt her abdomen. Every time he rammed into her, he grazed the responsive spot within her and in moments she cried out his name as she fell over the edge.
Her name was on his lips as he joined her in the waves of bliss crashing over them again and again. They held onto each other and she never wanted to let go, wanting to stay like this in his arms forever.
But reality slowly reared its ugly head as she came down from her high. Vegeta was panting on top of her, his mouth leaving small, adoring kisses on her neck. It felt so right and she knew that it would be too easy to give into this moment, to allow herself to be vulnerable.
She also knew that she didn't trust him to stay with her, with them. If she gave in, him leaving would break her heart – again. A lapse in judgment for one more chance to have the best sex of her life was one thing; opening her heart to him was another.
He didn't protest when she gently pushed him off her, so she could go to the bathroom. She was thankful that she had taken extra precautions to avoid another half-Saiyan pregnancy, despite not expecting to have sex with Vegeta again. Perhaps it wasn't much different than her mother keeping his room ready in case he returned.
After she was done, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her lips swollen and there were slight bruises here and there on her body. Nothing she wasn't used to seeing after having sex with him. She willed her reflection to show the determination she needed to distance herself from him, guarding her heart from the effect he had on her.
When she exited, she hurried to grab her robe before she could enjoy the appreciating look he was giving her from the lounging position he'd taken on her bed. He seemed calm and relaxed in a way that she'd rarely seen and his eyes were looking at her almost fondly. A yawn escaped him suddenly, revealing how tired he was.
She suspected that he wanted to stay in her room and wondered if this was the first time he'd felt safe in a long time. He'd probably had a rough couple of years in space; not that he hadn't been responsible for that himself. She pushed back the sympathy she felt for him, wanting to focus on protecting her own feelings.
"Trunks always runs into my room first thing in the morning and I can't have him see a stranger in my bed, even if he recognizes you," she feigned an apologetic tone, "so you better stay in your own room for the night." She didn't say that she was afraid of waking up alone, that he left her again.
She saw a flicker of dismay in his eyes before they hardened into a neutral expression, no longer any sign of fondness or other emotions perceptible in the obsidian depths. He nodded and scooted off her bed, reaching for his clothes which he quickly threw on, then headed towards the door.
As he placed his hand on the doorknob, he paused, glancing back at her. Silence filled the room as they stared at each other for long moments, gauging what the other might be thinking.
"I will stay," he said with unwavering conviction that she wanted to believe. But she didn't allow herself to do so. She refused to show a sign that she believed him and after a few seconds where he obviously hoped for a response, he left her room.
She flopped down on the bed, another bout of exhaustion creeping into her body. It was late and she needed to sleep, but her mind was racing with what had happened, especially as she crawled beneath the sheets which smelled like sex and him.
She couldn't help but hope that he would really stay, even though she knew that she was setting herself up for heartbreak. What worried her more was that he would stay for a little while, bond with Trunks and suddenly leave again. She would have to let him know that such a scenario was unacceptable and if he did such a thing, she had the means to chase him down and hurt him. He was not allowed to hurt their son.
But he would likely be gone in the morning anyway. He'd probably expected her to greet her into her open arms and her bed which she kind of had. But not without reservations. And while he'd always been stubborn about getting what he wanted, she couldn't help but doubt that he really was passionate enough about this to fight for a place in their lives.
Her thoughts ran in circles as she tossed and turned on the bed. Eventually her eyes fell upon the floor where his discarded gloves were still lying. She watched them, as though they would give her an answer, until her eyes began to blur and she fell into an exhausted sleep, dreaming of adoring onyx eyes and pristine white gloves holding her hands.
"Mom, mom!" Trunks leaned over her stomach until he could grab her hip and crawl over her until he landed with a bounce next to her on the bed. Bulma withheld an annoyed groan. It wasn't an unusual way to wake up these days, but she hadn't gotten enough sleep to be prepared for this kind of awakening. "The stwange man is still in Papa's wroom, but it's Papa! I'm suwre it's him."
Her eyes opened immediately as she remembered the events of last night and took in Trunks' words. She was about to turn to Trunks to ask him what he was doing in the occupied bedroom when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.
She looked up to see Vegeta leaning against the doorway to her room and she smiled. So he did really stay. Despite his usual scowl and his arms firmly crossed over his chest, his expression was somewhat soft and he appeared a little nervous as he stared past her towards Trunks.
"Come here, Trunks," she said and rose from the bed, walking over to the tense Prince. Trunks followed behind her, staring up at his estranged Papa from behind her hip.
"Vegeta," she addressed him and lifted Trunks into her arms, showing the boy that he was safe and didn't have to be scared. The little boy's eyes lit up as the two Saiyans stared at each other. "Meet your son, Trunks."