Those flames licking at his heels? They were devouring him and at this point Vegeta couldn't for the life of him recall what had made him leave the back compound in such a hurry that morning. Instead of being plagued with frustration, he could have been basking in afterglow from a day spent thoroughly acquainting himself with the fierce little captain who had offered him her service upon their meeting and offered up her magnificently lush and peng self as an added perk. It was too late to come back on that now. Not literally, despite it nearing midnight, but figuratively. Too much time had passed for it to be a continuance and asking for a repeat was further than he was willing to go. He hadn't made a point of forcing her to swallow her pride only to end up betraying his own. Instead, he had convicted himself to an endless replay of the event.
What his trundling train of thoughts was seizing on – again – as he made his way up the stairs for a shower, was her reaching her end so effortlessly. No hourlong groundwork, no simultaneous pearl-polish, no endless searching for the right angle or pace, just him giving her the front-to-back had been enough to bring her off. That second, manually orchestrated one had come on her even easier and faster. What had it been? A minute of twirling? Shorter? His lust spiked – again – at recalling the sudden influx of slickness both times she blew and he concluded his tackle of the stairs with an impatient scoff. He was being obsessive and pathetic and he needed to stop it. The it could be several things that were all equally juvenile. His pride was in his way, as it often was, and he was acting like an overzealous boy who had just found out that his cock could be used for more than pissing, which he hadn't done since he had actually still been an overzealous boy.
The bathroom door was cracked and he walked in on the woman standing in front of the mirror above the sink. She was removing the make-up she didn't need and resumed her nightly ritual by rubbing liberal amounts of artificial and unappetizing smelling anti-wrinkle cream onto her smooth, wrinkleless features. While he had been aware of her presence in this bathroom before he even set foot in the house, she was still not catching on to him practically standing on top of her and he had to step in front of the mirror for her to make a shrieking leap.
"For Kami's sake, Vegeta!" Bulma called exasperatedly, clutching her chest. "How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that!"
"I don't sneak, woman." Vegeta said, realising that even this exchange was routine. "You have no clue where you are at."
She didn't. She was as unaware of her proximity to her surroundings as she was of how little she needed that sickeningly sweet-smelling cream she was slapping onto her perfect skin. Flawless it was, like she was, immaculate from the tips of her toes to the top of her brainy head, a stunner possessed of the kind of beauty that turned heads. Yet for all that, Bulma Briefs was never sure about her body. She was more comfortable inside her mind. Dragging her out if that and into her aesthetically pleasing frame, made her awkward and vulnerable. It was a pity that she never put some of her brainpower towards seeing herself for everything she was rather than what she was not. She was always obsessing over one of her outward aspects, be it her meagre weight, her non-existent wrinkles, her long lashes that apparently weren't long enough or her small feet she deemed too big. Vegeta had spent a long time trying to figure out who she was comparing herself with when she wallowed in her self-hatred, but eventually and mere accidentally caught her glued to the tv where screaming commercials were rolling by, aimed at making these sodding Earthlings buy all the crap they didn't need. Weight care products advertised by an even skinnier woman than the one gawking at the screen, creams and lotions and potions and what not to battle ailments Bulma did not have, but the gogglebox convinced her were going to catch up with her sooner or later. Her trivial and needless insecurities were another reason, another minor one, for his attraction to have never grown beyond physicality.
The big reason, the one that had made it all go to shit on them before it ever even getting a chance, was the race barrier. The woman had never stopped viewing him as the cold-blooded murderer from space she met on Namek and he? Well, he had not been able to move past regarding her as the pretty girl he had ordered to hand over the dragon balls she had stolen from him, and he later took as a bedwarmer on Earth. One he would, despite the lack of true synergy, forever be devoted to. For their babes who needed her, and for her giving him this place away from his life in the WTO. Vegeta owed the woman everything he had and should he find himself in the position a second time, he would again and without hesitation, give his life to preserve hers and save this planet she called home. That had been his second downfall, his self-destruction to take out Buu, and he had put paid to the failure by surpassing the pink blob's human incarnation Uub.
Resigning himself to the routine, Vegeta reached back to close the bathroom door behind him and started stripping off his gear. He ignored the anticipated bashful spluttering the woman did upon catching him with his shirt off and it turned near frantic at him dropping his breeks as well. Since this was nothing new, he was distracted by the realisation that he smelled of another woman. The fierce little captain was still with him. On his gear, his skin, his mind. The woman was oblivious of that as well, and had been on the few other occasions where he had been struck with an urge to galivant and get it someplace else. Not that it was a secret. He was simply following suit. She did not speak of her dalliances and so he did not speak of his. They had been nothing worth speaking of, nothing worth repeating either and also better left undisclosed to save himself a headache. The Earthlings were very big on monogamy, though very few actually stuck to it, and the ones who condemned getting some side-action fiercest, were usually also the ones having a bit on the side. Why would he bring up something meaningless and give the woman another reason to despise him? He had come to learn over the years that she didn't deal well with rivalry, which was one of the few things they actually had in common. She may have gained one this time around, a rival, and he contemplated whether he should tell her that.
What, apart from more strife, would be in that for him? Reparations for years of ignoring how he could smell the weakling on her after she went out on the town with some vague acquaintance in tow as a ruse? Vegeta had made peace with his wounded pride long ago, accepted that the promises he made when he settled on this planet, were easier kept by acting like he wasn't aware of the weakling pissing all over his turf. For had he been aware, had others known him to be aware, he would have had to do something about that. He wasn't one to refrain from answering a provocation and fucking the woman who had borne him his babes, was an affront that warranted a price too steep for the weakling to pay. Vegeta prided himself in always keeping his word, and since he vowed to the woman that he would leave the Earthlings unharmed, he could not vindicate himself by putting her weakling on-the-side in the ground. So no, fessing up would not serve as reparations. And not to pay the woman back in kind either. He knew she had needs he couldn't fulfil. She had every right to have them met elsewhere. He didn't begrudge the woman her pleasures. But, jealous as she was, she would begrudge him his. That he was finally having some of his own needs met, would not sit well with her at all.
As far as he was concerned, refraining from what Earthlings, and the woman in the lead, called cheating, was cheating themselves out of having a good time. Where he was from, having it wherever one could get it was the norm. Loyalty was reserved for mates and the kind of devotion needed to forge a lifelong bond, made most Saiyajins contented to never go looking for their other half. This went for their rulers especially. The man that had given him life, used to keep a woman for every finger and had as many again in less formal arrangements. Vegeta had never bothered with any of that. In the WTO there hadn't been room for much else apart from duty and there had been more ugly wenches than pretty ones serving in the imperial army. Besides, openly nourishing fondness for anyone, would have put a girl at risk of gaining Frieza's interest on top of his own. Vegeta had learned that the hard way. It was slim pickings for him as well on this muck-hole where the women were pretty enough, but too fragile to properly handle. The mere idea of having nine more bed-warmers around whom he would have to precisely calculate his every next move, was exhausting him. He could have gone for keeping a multitude of fierce little fighters like the one he derailed in the back compound this morning, but as there weren't ten of her to go around, one would have to do.
By the time Vegeta had turned away from his musings and turned on the shower instead, the woman was blushing up to her roots and repelling him by keeping her rigid back towards him, but she was wearing her sexy skimpies so they both knew where this was heading. He was soaping up his hair and body and giving her the full frontal of what she wanted so badly, she couldn't keep her frantic gaze from darting his way, first through the mirror and then, as it started fogging up and she spun to face him almost glassily, directly.
"Come join me." he said as the next move on a game they had been playing for so long that he could predict every second of this elaborate, ritualistic mating dance with the one who had, until very recently, been his favourite go-to.
"N-No." Bulma let her stutter fall in with a hesitant step towards him, her eyes forcedly fixed on his face instead of his naked flesh.
"Yes." Vegeta returned and he was aware that it lacked conviction. The spiel was wearing him out which was hilarious after spending a decade and a half perfecting it. He was just tired of this. Tired of having to go through the motions, chip away at her self-imposed inhibitions to get her sweet on him and draw out her sexuality like some depraved witch-doctor. She wasn't going to acknowledge her own, meanwhile growing, appetites. She never had and never would. He was all for declaring her nook, with its arousing blue curls trimmed to resemble a perfect triangle, the thing he loved eating best, and he once had, but the lurid admittance would scandalize her the point of deep freeze. He rather kept her on track.
Halting just short of getting into the shower with him, Bulma lingered, willowy, pristinely white arms hugging her own waist to give herself a pose and her slender legs crossed, one foot aimed in his direction, the other at the closed bathroom door where safety lay.
"So…" she began, resorting to the knee-jerk that she gravitated towards whenever she needed to keep things easy and remain on the surface.
It was never easy for him. Small talk. He absolutely despised it. It was unwanted in any given situation, and plain absurd now that they were about to fully immerse in each other. Deviating from the many unspoken agreements they had come to along the way – things that he would have had no trouble talking about – Vegeta took her wrist and tugged her into the shower with him, even if he knew that getting her skimpies wet was begging for a freeze-off.
"My nighties! This is silk! You are ruining…"
Vegeta cut her off by kissing her and taking her in his arms. Hers were slow to wrap around his neck and her body was slower in losing the woodenness that wanted to kill his mood. That wrinkle cream was on her lips and it took a while as well for the fake roses to give way to the real taste of her mouth. He eased up her sodden top and let the generous flesh of her breasts spill over in his hands. She did that odd shrinking back and leaning in thing he had gotten used to as he rubbed her nipples into hard nubs and he settled her with her shoulders against the shower wall, mindful of his weight and carrying it all himself when he let their bodies make contact. He broke away from a kiss that had managed to gain some tune and rubbed his lips down her dainty neck where she smelled of more artificial enhancements that ruined her own nippy, fresh, innocent scent he would have once fully owned up to getting high on.
"Vegeta... not here… Let's go to bed… the kids… my parents…" she pushed against his shoulders to make him back off, which he chose not to do.
"Here is fine." he murmured against her skin while he kissed his way down the impressive plunge between her breasts where he could, and did, bury his whole face.
"The… shower… it's too… hot."
Not for him. He reached out blindly, submerged as he was, to hit the tap and shut off the water.
Bulma squirmed. "No… they will hear… turn it back on… colder…"
Vegeta reemerged from all that flesh and pulled her into his loins by the waistband of her very meagre, black scanties. "Stop complaining, woman."
He let his fingers walk the flimsy fabric and peeled the crotch aside to feel out how ready she was. It asked more time he couldn't really waste and so he brought their groins together and gingerly pushed his tip on her, requesting entry to build her up in the act instead of the foreplay he wanted to skip. She held onto his neck tighter, took him in, her panting tickling his ear making him want her instead of the idea of her that had been directing his actions. He gave her more to get worked up over by tearing her scanties and leaving them hanging somewhere at her thigh, the way clear for what made her exclamation of outrage die on her lips. Scooping up her leg, he opened her wide and inhaled the gasp that left her upon him pushing in all the way, all at once. Her already big eyes were widened in shock and it was all clear blue sky that he was staring into. At least until she shut him out by shutting the windows into her. He had misliked her for that, back when he still wanted to lose himself in the heavens of her eyes, but it came expected now and he settled for kissing her plump, soft lips again. She let the hands that had been pushing against his chest to no avail, back around his neck to signal her complaining done and it was just as well. He had no intentions to stop giving her the sleazy shower action she was never going to admit she wanted from him.
Yet he was too quick in thinking that this was cracking along smoothly. However slick and receptive she was getting through his efforts, he wasn't really there for it. Somewhere in the CC grounds, back there in that back compound, a tempestuous lifeforce shot up like wildfire. It made him realise that he had been unwittingly keeping tabs on it, for the whole day he had spent thinking of her, possibly, probably, certainly. In tandem with the fierce little captain's ki, a far more even-keeled, but right now overenthusiastic one spiked, dropped, then spiked again. The up and down wasn't just suggestive of what Vegeta was engaged in at the moment. They were going at it themselves. That arsehole Turles was getting the thing Vegeta had denied himself all day, and his captain was letting him have it. The stab of betrayal he felt, was uncalled for and utterly ridiculous, but that didn't mean that it wasn't there or that it was going away. Those morals upheld on this muck-hole must have rubbed off on him because he truly, deeply felt cheated. It should have been him back there giving it to her, but he was here, giving it to the woman who was now somehow hanging thighs wide from his forearms with her tight little arse sitting smack in his hands. And was he giving it to her. She was begging for him to stop, her wailing interspersed with desperate puffs of breath that he was drilling out of her without even registering it.
"Fuck." Vegeta swore, standing there with her clutching him around the neck like a cat dangling above water.
"Put me down!" Bulma screeched her panic, her long legs flailing to expel him from her frozen interior.
He did it with the care he always took when he got his hands on her, but he had not been that careful in truth. There was a streak of red on his shaft, like he had just stolen her flower while hers had been plucked long before he ever came along. "Fuck." he repeated. "Woman, I'm sorry."
"What is wrong with you?" Bulma yelled, flinging herself to the very farthest corner of the shower and clutching her sodden skimpies as she cowered there. And then, lost for words: "You… you… you brute!"
Vegeta could take that as a step up from the usual monkey, but her taking so long landing on it, he reckoned that brute wasn't meant to flatter him. His gaze found the thing that he had promised himself to never give rise to again. No matter how wary he still made her – still deeming him unpredictable and a possible threat even after all these years of sharing space – she had never again looked at him with the pure, unadulterated fear that was on her beautiful face now. Forgetting himself for what could not have been more than a blink, had undone what he had endeavoured to keep afloat for so long that tip-toeing around her had become second nature. He had proven her wrong right.
There was a miserable kind of justice to this, next to the irony of it. Bulma had finally gotten what she had been most afraid of. Him as the exact brute she had branded, and at long last named him. Wrongfully. Even if he did like his sex rough, he had never liked it rougher than his consort could handle. He had been careful to curb his lust, always, had walked a tightrope between going after what he desired and what he could safely take. But, as of this morning, he had been given all that he wanted, and then some. He could take all his most satisfying leg-overs with the woman – any woman – and put them together, and it still would not measure up to that one instance of fucking the fierce little captain up against the wall in that back compound where she was now letting someone else fuck her. Would she get on her knees for that arsehole as well? Let him use her mouth?
Bulma was in high dudgeon, her fear quickly substituted for outrage. That tongue was getting away from her again and this time her trepidation was not catching up. Vegeta couldn't blame her. It was unacceptable that he had lost himself like that. Did he care, though? Really? He had not seriously harmed her or she wouldn't be going off her nut right now, and he was getting caught up in his own rage. What was truly unacceptable here, was how that impertinent little bitch getting her groove on back there, should spoil this for him. That savage creature had left him with more than just her delicate, powdery scent. She had poked up something in him that he could no longer switch off. At least not by seeking succour between his bedwarmer's skinny thighs. The woman had those firmly clamped together on the smear of blood that made her milky skin look even whiter and more fragile. Whatever pain he had caused her, it did not stop her from screaming at him, her indignance giving her voice a pitch that made his eardrums feel like they were ready to pop. The tiled space they were standing in was doing nothing to lessen that and her screeches echoed through the shower to hit him twice over. So much for not wanting the kids and parents to hear.
Vegeta took a step back before he could be tempted into taking out his aggression on the woman. She was hurling insults at him and giving him every reason to want to shut her up. The derogatory remarks about his race that usually bounced off, suddenly hit home quite well and it was only fuelling his fury. He snatched up his gear from the floor and left the bathroom, left her to gather up her ripped scanties and sort out her wet skimpies while muttering imprecations under her breath. A kata just might rid him of his sudden violence. A very long and very hard kata. Long and hard like he wanted to fuck the one that was otherwise engaged at the moment. He could go to the back compound and kick the arsehole off her, but that would betray how fucking desperate he was getting here. He wasn't going to admit that to himself, let alone her or the idiot's brother. And that tiny little detail at the end right there, that may just be adding insult to injury. It just had to be his adversary's kinsman getting in his way.
Vegeta had no clue how to handle himself at the moment, but one thing was becoming abundantly clear. The moderation that he had exercised the past decade and a half, and for which that impertinent little Saiyajin bitch had ridiculed him, it was leaving him in a great big hurry.