.::Ten::.
Five minutes later, Vegeta stood under the warm shower, his body tense, his mind racing, and his frustration evident in the hard length between his legs. He gritted his teeth, determined to banish the thoughts invading his mind, but each effort only seemed to make things worse. The more he tried to focus on anything else, the more persistent the images became—images of her...
The blue-haired woman lounging in the backyard replayed repeatedly in his head like a relentless loop. When he had first sensed her presence outside, he had assumed she was coming to bother him, to nag or demand something trivial. But when he glanced out the window and saw her wearing barely anything, it was as if something had shifted inside him. It seemed deliberate, her wearing that outfit and lounging near the gravity chamber. The backyard was spacious, after all.
The sight had been utterly captivating, more than he cared to admit, and it had drawn him in completely despite every instinct telling him to look away. And now he couldn't shake the memory of how she had looked. Vegeta blew out a puff of air. This loss of control was maddening, and he hated it. He hated how just the thought of her affected his body. He hated how he struggled to suppress this desire that surged through him.
The water beat down on his shoulders but did nothing to soothe the burning fire within him. And so, there he stood, his fists clenched at his sides, trying and failing to regain control over his thoughts as the proof of his failure stood stubbornly erect.
When he'd been in the gravity chamber, the sight of her lounging outside had sent a surge of adrenaline through him, and he quickly found that continuing his workout routine was impossible. Each time he tried to refocus on his training, this overwhelming need to look betrayed him, and he found himself drifting back to the rounded windows more times than he'd care to admit aloud.
Vegeta groaned. The annoying woman had ignited something primal within him. The thin clothing she'd been wearing, if you could even call it clothing, had left nothing to the imagination, and when he'd been in the chamber, his pulse had quickened as he'd watched her. When she began rubbing lotion over her body, the situation became unbearable to him. Vegeta had been transfixed, his gaze locked as she slowly massaged the cream all over herself. He wasn't stupid. He knew the woman had been deliberate with her motions. She had set out to tease and torment him.
Vegeta hated that it had worked.
When it became clear she would not leave anytime soon, Vegeta decided to remove himself from the situation. He couldn't continue training because of her distracting presence, and there was no point in staying in the gravity chamber when his focus had been shattered.
Vegeta tilted his face into the cascade of water, letting it pound against his skin as if hoping it might wash away the misery inside him.
It didn't.
Vegeta cursed under his breath, frustration gnawing at him as he balled his hands into fists. His mind was a relentless loop of her, and it was driving him insane. The more he tried to push the thoughts away, the more insistent they became, tightening their grip on his sanity. Vegeta growled, a low guttural sound of self-loathing and helplessness.
He opened his eyes and glanced down. Vegeta frowned. There it was, his erection still standing straight. He racked his brain, remembering the last time he had allowed himself the simple pleasure of release. Shame burned in his chest as he realized it had been before he'd been killed on Namek, an eternity ago, at least it seemed.
The thought of how long it had been since he'd used his body in that way with another being was even more damning.
Sex had never been a priority for him, not when survival had been his only goal for so long. His entire life had been shaped by the oppressive shadow of Frieza's rule, where pleasure of the body was a rare luxury. There had been no time, no space in his world for desires or indulgences. Every moment was spent training, fighting, or plotting with little room for anything else. The thought of taking pleasure in something as fleeting as intimacy had always seemed trivial, even dangerous. It was a weakness Vegeta had not been afforded often. Vegeta's life had been a constant battlefield, a relentless struggle for survival under Frieza, and indulging in something so simple had always seemed like a liability.
The scalding water continued to cascade over him, but it did nothing to ease his muscle aches or the storm in his head. Vegeta stood there torn between the warrior he was and the primal urges he had suppressed for so long.
He cursed the blue-haired woman under his breath again for the millionth time that day.
Vegeta sighed as his gaze dropped again, fixating on his painfully rigid erection. The throbbing had become so intense it bordered on agony. Seeing it only deepened his frustration, along with a need that pulsed through his entire body.
With a deep breath, Vegeta finally wrapped his hand around his manhood, and without warning, an involuntary groan escaped his lips. His other hand shot out to brace against the wall, grounding him as a surge of pleasure swept through his body, almost bringing him to his knees before his hand had even begun to move.
It had been so long. So painfully, achingly long since he had allowed himself any semblance of pleasure. Vegeta bit his lip. He deserved this, he told himself fiercely. He had earned this moment of peace. This small bit of pleasure that he could give himself. Maybe after this, he could regain his focus. Perhaps it would help clear his mind and free him from the distraction the cursed woman had stirred within him.
Standing under the warm shower spray, his body trembling with pent-up tension, Vegeta finally surrendered himself to his need.
At first, his hand moved with deliberate slowness, sliding up and down his length as his grip tightened around himself. His eyes slowly slid shut as he let himself succumb to the sensation. A soft breath escaped his parted lips as he fell into a slow and steady rhythm.
The pleasure that coursed through his body was intense, almost overwhelming, shaking him to his core. It had been so long, and Vegeta was determined to savor every second, knowing he wouldn't grant himself this guilty pleasure again anytime soon.
As his hand continued its rhythmic movement, thoughts of the blue-haired woman inevitably filled his mind. At first, he fought against them, but eventually, Vegeta allowed her image to take shape in his mind.
Within his thoughts, the blue-haired woman stood before him, scantily dressed in that small, teasing outfit she'd worn while sunbathing. Vegeta couldn't help but drink in the sight, relishing every single detail.
The way the clothing barely covered her...
The way her skin glistened, a view he realized now that he enjoyed far more than he'd anticipated.
In the privacy of Vegeta's mind, there were no barriers, no reservations, and he finally fully allowed himself to embrace the fantasy of the blue-haired woman. The pleasure built as Vegeta's hand moved faster and faster.
The woman was so vivid in his mind that Vegeta could almost feel the warmth that radiated from her body as she stood close. He imagined her soft breath in his ear as she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. The thought of her so near him only heightened his arousal.
Vegeta knew this was dangerous territory, as he let himself get lost in such thoughts. But just for this moment, he didn't care. He deserved this, he told himself again, and he would not deny himself this release.
Vegeta's pace quickened, and each stroke brought him closer to the edge.
In his mind, the fantasy intensified as he imagined himself reaching over to deftly undo the small knot that held the top in place. The thought of her bare skin, exposed and vulnerable before him, pushed him even further.
Vegeta felt the familiar tightening in his core. The buildup of pressure signaled he was close.
A low grunt escaped his throat as he opened his eyes, vision blurred by the moment's intensity. His legs began to tremble, barely able to support his weight as pleasure surged through him. With a few final, forceful pumps, Vegeta reached his climax. He bit down hard on his lower lip, stifling the shout that threatened to escape. He couldn't risk her hearing him.
As he came, Vegeta aimed downward, directing his seed toward the drain, watching as the evidence of his desire was washed away by the water. His body continued to react; the aftershocks of his orgasm sent jolts of pleasure through him, making his movements jerky and uncontrolled for a few lingering moments afterward. Vegeta's breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control over his own body.
Even as the intensity of the moment began to fade, Vegeta kept a firm grip on himself, unwilling to let go until the last waves of pleasure had subsided.
The sensation left him feeling weak, but also Vegeta felt a strange sense of peace within himself.
Though the hot water washed over him, goosebumps formed over Vegeta's skin as he finally loosened his grip on himself. He stood there for a while afterward as he allowed the remnants of his release to wash away both physically and mentally.
Once the tremors of his orgasm had subsided and he could stand upright without support, Vegeta turned off the shower. The rush of the water ceased, leaving him in a quiet, steam-filled enclosure. He barely remembered whether he had soaped up or not.
After stepping out of the shower, Vegeta reached for a towel and dried himself off. His thoughts were still clouded, his body languid from the intensity of his orgasm. He wrapped the towel around his waist.
With a sense of numbness, he moved to his bed. The cool sheets beckoned, and he sank onto them. The exhaustion from his earlier exertions in the gravity chamber and extracurricular activities in the shower made him feel heavier with each passing second. It wasn't long before sleep overtook him, his body finally finding rest. The day's events and the vivid fantasies that had occupied his mind drifted away, leaving him in a deep, undisturbed slumber.
xXx
It was midnight when the Saiyan made an appearance again. Bulma was on the couch, her legs tucked under her, a bottle of whisky resting on the coffee table before her. The television illuminated the dark room, and she looked over when he turned the corner and entered the living room.
She frowned at his disheveled appearance. For some reason, he looked more worn now than earlier after working out for hours in the gravity chamber. Before he could go anywhere, Bulma lifted the whiskey bottle, the amber liquid sloshing inside.
"Want some?" she asked him, her tone casual as she poured herself another shot.
Vegeta stared over at her, making her heart skip a beat. His eyes locked with hers as if weighing the decision to join. The light from the television cast dark shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable.
Bulma looked away from him and tossed back the shot. She poured another, hoping to entice him, but when he still didn't move, Bulma sighed and turned her attention back to the TV.
Then, to Bulma's surprise, Vegeta walked into the living room and sat at the other end of the couch. She didn't look at him as she reached forward and slid the glass across the coffee table toward him.
Vegeta glanced down at the glass. After a minute, he leaned forward and grabbed it, downing the contents in one quick gulp. Once they'd shared a few more, they sat together in comfortable silence, keeping their eyes on the television.
"What is this garbage?" Vegeta questioned, breaking the silence as two women on the screen delved into a full-out brawl.
Bulma was shocked he'd spoken, and she chuckled as she poured another shot for him. He drank it.
"It's an American reality show," she told him, amusement in her voice, as she poured herself one, then downed it quickly. "I think it's fun to watch."
Vegeta crossed his arms and stared at the widescreen with a frown.
"Well, it's stupid," he remarked, his tone dripping with disgust.
After that comment, Bulma thought he would leave and head outside to the gravity chamber, but surprisingly, he didn't. Bulma couldn't help but smirk as she eyed him as he continued watching the television screen.
She kept pouring them rounds of shots, and somehow, a couple of episodes later, the two were still sitting in the living room, their eyes fixed on the screen. Bulma couldn't help but feel a small bit of satisfaction, sharing another unlikely moment with the Saiyan.
"Matthew's a whiny little bitch," Vegeta stated out of the blue, startling Bulma.
It took everything she had within her not to laugh out loud. She'd never thought he would comment on the trashy television show.
"He is a whiny little bitch," she agreed, her voice filled with amusement.
As the show continued, Bulma focused on the chaotic drama unfolding on the screen. It was weird, but their silence was comfortable as they watched the show together. And as the minutes ticked by, Bulma became increasingly aware of Vegeta's presence beside her. His proximity felt different to her now, charged in a way she hadn't noticed before. It was probably the alcohol, she thought.
Out the corner of her eye, Bulma glanced over at the powerful male beside her on the couch. His broad shoulders and chiseled features impossible to ignore. Out of nowhere, a sudden wave of nerves washed over her, and instantly, her pulse quickened.
She instinctively reached for the whiskey bottle, the smooth glass cool against her fingertips as she poured another shot. A small rational voice in the back of her mind warned that she'd had enough, but she silenced it with a quick gulp, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her like a soothing balm.
"Um... want another?" she asked, her voice slightly hesitant. She held out the bottle toward him.
Bulma had no clue why she felt nervous right now. Vegeta turned his head slightly, giving her a sidelong glance. His dark eyes locked onto hers briefly before he gave a short, curt nod. Something in that look sent a shiver down her spine and left her heart racing.
Bulma quickly poured him another shot, her hands steady despite the flutter of nerves she felt on the inside. Instead of sliding the small glass over to him on the coffee table, she handed him the small glass. Their fingers brushed briefly, and the contact sparked a jolt of awareness that Bulma tried hard to dismiss. She knew how she felt was one-sided and knew she needed to calm down.
"You hungry, Vegeta?" she asked as the episode ended.
"Hn," was his noncommittal grunt in response, a sound she understood as a yes.
"How about we order pizza?" she suggested, her tone light as she pulled out her phone.
Vegeta's brow furrowed. "What's pizza?"
Bulma smiled. "Oh, you'll love it. I'll order us a couple."
She quickly ordered six pizzas from the closest 24-hour pizza place. Once she confirmed the order, she set her phone aside and reached forward for the whiskey bottle again. Pouring herself another shot, Bulma downed it quickly, the liquid fire warming her from the inside out. She poured a shot for Vegeta and handed it to him. With a deft hand, he accepted the drink and downed it effortlessly. As they waited for the pizzas to arrive, the two of them settled back into their routine as another episode played on the screen, and the alcohol pleasantly buzzed in her veins.
Twenty minutes later, headlights suddenly swept across the front windows. Vegeta's posture changed instantly. He straightened in his seat, his muscles tensing as his eyes locked onto the source of the light outside.
He was up and heading across the room before Bulma even stood. He stared out of the window at the car parked outside.
"It's okay, Vegeta," Bulma assured him once she came to stand beside him. Vegeta's head snapped down to look at her. "It's just the delivery for the pizzas I ordered."
As Bulma made her way to the front door, she was fully aware of Vegeta following silently behind her. She opened the door to find the delivery guy standing there, arms loaded with boxes. After she paid him and added a generous tip, Bulma took the pizzas from him, the warmth of the boxes seeping into her arms as she held them and returned inside.
"You mind helping?" she asked him, her voice muffled by the towering stack of pizza boxes blocking her view.
Bulma had only expected him to take a couple of the boxes, just enough so she could see to walk, but Vegeta stepped forward and took the entire stack from her arms. He turned quickly around and carried the boxes over to the kitchen island. She gaped, caught off-guard by the unexpected gesture, then shook herself.
Bulma moved to the island and then opened the pizza boxes individually. With each box, she felt a small surge of excitement, eager to introduce Vegeta to one of her favorite comfort foods.
"This is pizza," she explained as she gestured to the spread before them: three pepperonis, two cheeses, and one beef. Though her personal favorite was margherita, for his first time, she decided to keep the order basic.
Bulma retrieved two plates and then handed one to Vegeta. Without hesitation, Bulma grabbed two slices of pepperoni from the box on the counter, balancing them on her plate, and returned to the living room.
She settled back onto the couch, and to her surprise, Vegeta appeared in the living room doorway a moment later, his plate in hand. He walked over to the coffee table, placed his plate down, and sat on the couch. Bulma glanced at it and noticed that he had taken a slice of each type of pizza. He took one slow, deliberate bite, testing it out. A second later, the whole slice was gone. The speed Vegeta ate was staggering. Before bulma even made it halfway through her first slice, Vegeta had polished off all three of his and was already heading back into the kitchen.
Afterward, when he finished eating, he put his plate in the sink, and to Bulma's surprise, instead of going out to train, he returned to the living room and sat beside her on the couch without a word.
The episode they were watching ended with two of the guys bringing back random girls to their house. As the scene progressed, Bulma felt her mouth go dry. Having watched this episode before, she knew what was about to unfold on the screen. Her fingers twitched, itching to grab the remote and switch off the TV, but she forced herself to stay still, attempting to convince herself that there was no real reason to feel the sudden warmth of embarrassment.
They had watched a few episodes earlier when the guys brought girls back to the house, only to send them home before anything promiscuous happened. But this time was different. As she watched the guys wrap their arms around the girls, pulling them to their small twin beds, Bulma could feel her heart rate spike. The intimacy of the moment and the way they nestled into each other caused her face to flush.
When the scene escalated, and it became apparent that one of the couples had started going farther, the heat in her body intensified. Her cheeks burned, and a wave of warmth spread through her chest, making it difficult to focus on anything but the awkwardness.
The scene on the television wasn't particularly long, but it felt like it stretched on forever. Just before the episode ended, Vegeta abruptly stood up, walked out of the room, and headed toward the kitchen. Bulma grabbed the remote and quickly switched off the TV, and the room plunged into total darkness.
It wasn't until Bulma's eyes adjusted from the outside lights filtering through the large windows that she noticed Vegeta standing motionless in the middle of the kitchen. He was turned fully around, staring directly at her, his deep breathing evident from her seat on the couch.
Something in the air shifted, and a pull Bulma couldn't quite understand had her standing and slowly walking toward him. Vegeta remained rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving her. When she was just a foot away from him, she stopped, her heart hammering in her chest so loudly it echoed in her ears.
Bulma's hand rose, slowly moving toward his face with a mind of its own. She watched as Vegeta's eyes flickered toward her hand, but he made no move to stop her. His gaze returned to hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes. Hesitation, maybe?
But he remained perfectly still.
When her fingertips finally brushed against his warm cheek, he stiffened almost imperceptibly. Her breath hitched from the contact. The sensation of his skin against hers sent a rush of emotions coursing through her, making her heart beat so erratically that Bulma feared it might give out at any moment.
Here she was, standing in the darkness of the kitchen, her hand resting on the face of the Saiyan, a man who had almost killed her. A man who had killed her friends. This man before her had killed so many people in his lifetime and destroyed countless planets, leaving nothing behind. He was so powerful, yet she was caressing his face tenderly as if none of that mattered.
The reality of the situation was almost surreal, but what scared Bulma the most was the undeniable desire that pulsed within her. Encouraged by her emotions, Bulma took a small step closer. Vegeta remained still, his eyes locked onto hers, his body tense underneath her touch. They were so close now that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, their breaths mingling in the charged air between them. Her hand moved slowly from his cheek, fingers trailing up into his thick hair, which she found surprisingly soft beneath her touch. She hadn't expected that, hadn't expected any of this.
She reached up with her other hand and cupped his face, then Vegeta did something she couldn't have predicted. He tilted his head into her palm and closed his eyes, exhaling a soft sigh. Bulma's legs turned to jelly, feeling like they might give at any second. She couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't believe she was touching Vegeta like this, and that he was allowing it. Every fiber of her being screamed that this was wrong and dangerous, but another part of her, a deeper, more primal part, didn't care.
With her right hand, Bulma curled and gently raked her nails over Vegeta's scalp, causing a slight shiver to run through him. Motivated by his response, she continued, her fingers gliding through his hair, each stroke slow and deliberate.
Vegeta's eyes remained closed, his expression unreadable, and then, out of nowhere, he reached out. His hand found her hip, and with a firm, quick motion, he pulled her closer until their bodies touched. A certain hard something pressed against her belly, and it made her gasp; a rush of disbelief and excitement coursed through her.
Bulma's breath hitched as she processed what was happening; her mind struggled to keep up with the moment's intensity. Without thinking, Bulma ran both of her hands through his hair now, using her nails to their full potential.
Vegeta's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. With his other hand, he grasped her other hip, his grip firm, almost possessive, as he held her to him. They both breathed heavily, their chests rising and falling, the air between them hot and thick.
Despite the closeness, Vegeta kept his eyes shut as they touched. Bulma slowly withdrew her hands from his hair, bringing them down to cup his face. The touch of his skin beneath her palms sent a thrill through her, and with a deliberate, almost hesitant motion, she gently guided his head toward her. The temptation to kiss him on the lips was overwhelming, a nearly unbearable pull that made her heart race. But instead of giving in, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead.
Before she could savor the moment or even pull away, Vegeta abruptly vanished, slipping out from between her hands like a shadow. One second, he was there; the next, she was standing alone in the kitchen, her hands still raised in the space where his face had been. The sudden absence left her reeling, her mind spinning as she tried to process what had just happened. The warmth of his presence lingered, but the moment was gone, leaving her standing in the dimly lit kitchen, her heart pounding in her chest.
