.::NINETEEN::.
Another week crept by, with Vegeta shutting himself away in the gravity chamber and refusing to come out until everyone fell asleep. As always, whenever they had shared an intimate moment, he would retreat like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. For all his battle-hardened toughness, Vegeta was utterly incapable of handling his emotions, and it was starting to drive Bulma mad.
Sweat dripped down Bulma's face as she pushed through the last quarter mile on the treadmill, her legs burning with each step. The gym's speakers blared some music, but the sound barely registered over the noise within her head. Bulma's thoughts circled back to the man who had become a fixture within her mind. Since that night they'd shared a week ago, the Saiyan had taken up permanent residence within her mind.
Day after day, he consumed her thoughts, leaving her work at Capsule Corp in disarray. And night after night, he invaded her dreams, refusing to let her mind rest. Why couldn't he just grow up and talk to her? The man had faced powerful threats without flinching, but a conversation about feelings? That seemed to terrify him. What would it take to get him to stop hiding and sit with her to talk? Bulma frowned at the thought of him choosing to stay barricaded in the gravity chamber forever, acting like she didn't exist. The idea cut deeper than she wanted to admit. If Vegeta thought he could avoid her forever, he had another thing coming!
After pushing past mile six on the treadmill, Bulma finally hit the stop button. Her legs felt like jelly as she stepped off, and her muscles screamed in protest with every shaky step. Wiping the sweat from her face with a towel, she grabbed her water bottle, tossed her bag over her shoulder, and headed toward the indoor pool. The air was cooler here, and the scent of chlorine hung in the air. Bulma entered the locker room for a quick rinse under one of the showers. The cool water ran over her, washing away the sweat and tension from her grueling workout. Once she finished, Bulma dried off and retrieved her bathing suit from her gym bag. She slipped it on and adjusted the straps before heading to one of the rounded hot tubs in the corner of the room next to the pool.
Twisting the dial on the wall, she activated the hot tub's jets, which sprang to life with a hum. Bulma sank into the bubbling water, letting out a deep sigh as she eased into one of the seats. The heat and pulsated jets worked wonders on her sore muscles.
It was Sunday, her day off, and she had spent most of the day in the gym, trying to distract herself from the ever-present storm of thoughts about Vegeta. Seven hours of relentless cardio and weight training had done their job in leaving her physically drained, but to her dismay, her mind was still restless.
Bulma leaned her head against the tub's edge, closing her eyes as the soothing hot water enveloped her. She allowed herself to smile at the thought of her bed waiting. She couldn't wait to slip between the cool sheets and sleep. She had spent the day pushing herself through a rigorous workout, hoping to exorcise him from her thoughts. Yet, instead of erasing him, the exertion merely dulled her thoughts.
As she sank deeper into the soothing water, her mind wandered. Did Vegeta ever think about her? And if he did, was it close to how she thought about him? The idea seemed ridiculous, and a chuckle escaped her.
"What's so funny."
The deep, gravelly voice startled her, and Bulma let out a surprised yelp, splashing water everywhere as she twisted around. Her heart thudded wildly as her eyes locked on him–Vegeta, standing in the doorway with his arms folded tightly across his chest.
"Vegeta!" she shouted, pressing a hand over her chest to calm her racing heart. "Don't scare me like that!"
He smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "Not my fault you humans have such pitiful senses."
Bulma rolled her eyes dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest in a way that made her bikini top lift slightly. She caught the barest flicker of Vegeta's eyes darting down before snapping back to meet her gaze.
"Did you need something?" she asked, her voice tinged with feigned annoyance, masking the flicker of excitement she felt.
It wasn't every day that Vegeta came looking for her on his own, and though she tried to appear calm, Bulma could feel the heat blooming on her cheeks.
"The humanoid robot's left leg is broken," he stated flatly.
"What happened to it?" she asked a little too quickly.
Vegeta's brows knit together. "I didn't break it on purpose if that's what you're getting on about!" he retorted defensively.
"Relax," she replied with a wave of her hand, nodding toward the bag on the seat nearby. "Just put the capsule in there. I'll work on it sometime tomorrow."
He glanced at the bag with hesitation.
"I didn't have any capsules," he admitted.
"Oh," she said, as a small smile tugged at her lips. "Well, I guess let's go grab you one."
Bulma sighed, reluctant to leave the steamy comfort of the hot tub, but she did, turning off the jets that left the room in a deafening silence. She quickly grabbed a towel and dried herself hurriedly. Her skin prickled, the air cool against her damp body. Wrapping the towel snugly around herself, she slung her bag over her shoulder and padded barefoot across the tiled floor to where Vegta stood.
Her pulse quickened with each step, her heart pounding out an erratic rhythm that she couldn't ignore. Being this close to Vegeta brought unbidden and overwhelming memories back, for their last heated encounter was still fresh in her mind. She barely kept her expression neutral as she passed him in the doorway.
Exiting the hallway, Bulma became hyper-aware of Vegeta trailing just a few steps behind her. His footsteps were almost silent, but she could feel the weight of his gaze boring into her back. Trying to keep her composure, she walked briskly toward her office. She chose it over the lab because it was closer, and she knew where the spare capsules were stored.
Reaching the office door, Bulma punched in the familiar key code without looking. The lock slid open, and she stepped inside, flicking on the small desk lamp with a sharp tug of its chain.
Without pausing, she crossed the room to one of the tall metal cabinets lining the wall. She opened it and reached into the bin on her left, her fingers brushing over empty metal capsules. Bulma picked one on top of the pile and pulled it out.
She shut the cabinet doors back with a soft click, capsule in hand, and turned around, only to come face to face with Vegeta. Startled, she yelped and dropped the capsule on the floor. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of him so close. The dim glow of the desk lamp was blocked by his figure, casting his face in shadow, rendering his expression unreadable.
"Vegeta?" she managed to whisper, her voice trembling as her eyes searched his for some explanation. "What are you—"
Her words died in her throat when he suddenly stepped closer and pressed his mouth to hers. The sensation was electrifying, and for a split second, Bulma froze, her mind reeling as she tried to process what was happening.
But the hesitation was fleeting. Instinct took over, and she melted into the kiss, her body reacting before her brain could catch up. Her arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer as she surrendered to the moment. Then, she deepened the kiss, parting her lips and inviting him in. Bulma felt a jolt of surprise as he responded in kind.
When their tongues met, it was like a spark igniting a flame. Fireworks exploded behind her closed eyes, and his warmth and taste consumed her senses. Bulma couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped her, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands finally found her waist, firm and positive, grounding her in the moment as the world around them seemed to fall away. It was unlike anything she had ever expected from the proud Saiyan Prince. And for a brief, dizzying moment, nothing else mattered except the need for the heat of his body against hers.
Vegeta's arms tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against his solid frame as he deepened the kiss. His lips were firm yet unexpectedly tender, moving with a rhythm that surprised her. Their tongues entwined, a dance of intensity and passion, and Bulma's heart raced at the realization of how much she had craved this moment with Vegeta.
Despite his hard nature, Vegeta kissed with surprising gentleness. As his hands slid down her side and settled on her backside, Bulma was fully aware of the power this man possessed. But the way he lightly touched her and held her close sent a delicious shiver up her spine. The moment's intimacy consumed her, but a flicker of self-awareness returned when she remembered she was wearing nothing but a towel. Encouraged by the heat of the moment, Bulma reached down and prepared to let the cotton fall to the floor.
But before she could drop it, Vegeta abruptly broke the kiss and stepped back, putting just enough distance between them to leave her breathless. His chest rose and fell, and his face was flushed.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," she confessed, her voice trembling with nerves.
Vegeta's dark eyes widened slightly, exposing a flicker of surprise at her frank admission. He didn't speak, but the intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming. Feeling bold, Bulma reached out, taking his hand in hers. She raised it and pressed a tender kiss on his knuckles.
"Come back with me to my room," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her eyes met his dark ones, wide and pleading, silently conveying everything she didn't dare to say out loud.
Bulma could feel the tension radiating off him as if he were a tightly coiled spring. Though his expression was as unreadable as ever, she could sense the inner turmoil beneath the surface. Somehow, she knew his mind was racing, weighing the risks, the consequences, and the vulnerability of what they had just shared.
Deciding not to let him overthink it, she slipped her hand into his, her fingers curled around his palm. To her relief, Vegeta didn't pull away. Instead, he let her lead him silently out of the office, their footsteps echoing softly down the hall. His grip was firm but not crushing, a tether between them that felt very fragile at the moment.
They walked together silently through the house, his presence solid and steady behind her. Bulma's heart hammered with each step, anticipation thrumming through her veins. When she finally reached her bedroom door, she pushed it open, and Vegeta stopped.
Bulma turned to face him as confusion flickered across her features. He stood there, framed in the dim hallway light, his face unreadable, though something flashed in his dark eyes as she looked at him. Before she could speak, Vegeta withdrew his hand from hers. Her chest tightened as she hugged herself, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
"You don't want to come in?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't answer out loud, only shook his head—a small, almost imperceptible motion that hit Bulma like a punch to the gut. Her heart sank, the rejection stinging far more than she expected. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the hurt from showing, unwilling to let him see how much it affected her.
But Bulma couldn't let it end this way. Without thinking, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Vegeta's shoulders to pull him close before he could step away. To her astonishment, the Saiyan didn't resist at all. He didn't shove her off, or retreat into his bedroom. Instead, Vegeta allowed her to touch him.
"Please, stay with me tonight," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his.
Begging was something she had sworn she'd never do. Yet here she was, holding onto him, her voice trembling with the depth of her desire. Bulma's plea hung in the air between them, raw and vulnerable, her emotions bare to him in a way she had never thought possible. And as Bulma held her breath, waiting for his answer, she desperately prayed to Kami above that he wouldn't turn her away tonight.
xXx
Vegeta's sharp, dark eyes scanned her face, drinking in every detail, committing it to memory. Her beauty was undeniable–her features so soft, so achingly delicate that she seemed almost untouchable, like something crafted by the gods above. This female before him was perfect, but he knew without a doubt that he would never voice it. Not to her. Not to anyone. The very thought of acknowledging her allure out loud made him feel weak in a way he despised.
And here she was, clinging to him, her voice low and pleading, urging him to follow her inside her bedroom. It was torture—pure, unrelenting torture. Every fiber of his being screamed to give in. The primal part of him, the Saiyan instinct buried deep within his core, roared for him to claim this woman, to let his restraint shatter and agree to head inside her room without hesitation.
Vegeta gritted his teeth, forcing those thoughts away with a growl of frustration. He had sworn to himself that he would no longer let the woman distract him. He wouldn't succumb to the temptations of the flesh again, no matter how desperately his body and instincts clamored for it. Vegeta's goals loomed over him like an unscalable mountain, which was the main thing he needed to focus on right now.
He wasn't a Super Saiyan. Not yet. And that failure gnawed at him more than anything else. His training was everything. It was his purpose, drive, and only path to becoming the warrior he was destined to be. Until he reached that pinnacle, there was no room for indulgence–none for brief pleasures of the skin, no matter how much he hated himself for resisting what the woman before him offered.
As she clung to him, Vegeta felt his resolve slip, a battle waging inside him that he was losing. Against his better judgment, his arms moved on their own to wrap around her slender frame and pulled her close. The warmth of her body against his was intoxicating, a comfort he didn't realize he craved until this very moment. It was a vulnerability he despised in himself, yet he couldn't bring himself to let go of her.
Earlier, in her office, Vegeta had already shocked himself. Without thinking, he had leaned in and kissed her–a bold, uncharacteristic move he hadn't planned. Hell, he hadn't even thought about it before it happened.
But the sight of her damp hair clinging to her flushed face, the droplets of water glistening against her skin, had triggered something primal within him. It wasn't intentional. It was pure instinct, raw and uncontrollable, and Vegeta had given in without a fight.
Now, she tilted her head toward him, her lips trembling. This time, she closed the gap as she pressed her lips to his. Her lips were featherlight, and his breath hitched. Before he could stop himself, Vegeta leaned into her, deepening the kiss. It grew more intense and demanding second after second, and Vegeta savored every moment. This was uncharted territory for him. He had never kissed anyone before, not like this. Not at all, really. Though he wasn't entirely inexperienced, Vegeta's sexual encounters mainly had been purely physical. The emotional connection had never factored into his life.
But Vegeta wasn't a fool. During his years as a detached onlooker, he'd seen how others kissed and observed the mechanics of the action. He mimicked what he'd learned, following his instincts, and to his surprise, the woman had responded eagerly to him.
She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his thick hair. Her fingers gripped and held on tightly as if she couldn't bear the thought of letting him go. The sensation sent a shiver down Vegeta's spine, awakening something in him he wasn't prepared to confront.
Eventually, his body betrayed him further when Vegeta felt the telltale twitch in his shorts, a clear sign of his growing arousal. Panic surged through him, drowning out everything else entirely. He tore his lips from hers, his breath ragged, as he stepped back abruptly. Her wide eyes questioned his actions, and without a word, he turned on his heel and strode quickly down the hallway, leaving her standing there alone. He pushed open the door to his room and entered, shutting it firmly behind him. Leaning against the door, Vegeta closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, willing his racing heart to calm.
What in the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn't he stay away from her?
xXx
Bulma's heart raced, pounding so fiercely it felt like it might burst from her chest. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that she'd kiss the proud and untouchable Saiyan Prince Vegeta, not once, but twice in the same night. The first kiss, initiated by him, had completely unraveled her. It had been unexpected, electrifying, and overwhelming. She wasn't complaining, though; far from it. Kissing Vegeta was something she had fantasized about countless times.
The reality had blown every fantasy out of the water. His lips had been warm, firm, and commanding, igniting a fire in her that she hadn't known existed. The way his hand had gripped her waist to pull her closer had made her entire body hum with desire. Bulma's mind had short-circuited the moment their mouths met, and now, as she stood alone in the quiet hallway, her heart ached with an overwhelming need for more. So much more. The kiss wasn't enough. Her body trembled as her thoughts spiraled. She craved every part of him in ways that left her breathless.
The past week had been torture. Vegeta had avoided her and disappeared into his training as if their moment together had meant nothing. So, left to her own devices, Bulma tried to find release on her own—turning to Bob, her trusty little toy. It had been… fine, she supposed. She'd reach climax, sure, but no amount of effort on her end could replicate the way her body had responded to Vegeta.
Bulma shuddered as her mind drifted to the two intimate encounters they'd shared. It sent a shiver down her spine. She bit her bottom lip as she recalled the moments in vivid detail. The thought of being with him again made her weak in the knees. She exhaled slowly, pressing her hand to her chest to calm her frantic heartbeat. No matter what, she knew one thing: she needed him and wasn't sure she could wait much longer. Shaking her head to clear the swirling thoughts, Bulma turned on her heel and stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Her heart still racing from the intensity of her thoughts.
Without hesitation, Bulma stripped off her clothes and went to the bathroom, flipping on the cold water in the shower. Stepping under the stream of icy water, she gasped as the chill hit her skin, raising goosebumps across her arms and legs. She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady her breathing. Eventually, her body adjusted to the cold, and she ran her fingers through her wet hair, working the water through to her scalp. The initial shock of the water helped distract her, and she reached for the shampoo bottle, pouring a generous amount into her palm before lathering it through her hair.
The refreshing citrus scent filled the small bathroom as she massaged the suds into her scalp, letting the cold water cascade over her. Though her skin prickled from the chill, she resisted the urge to turn up the temperature, determined to let the icy stream wash away her lingering thoughts. As the shampoo rinsed out, the weight in her chest began to lift, and the constant replay of Vegeta's sharp eyes and fleeting smirks started to disappear.
Satisfied that her mind was finally quieting, she grabbed the conditioner and worked it through her damp strands. After rinsing it out, she turned her attention to soaping up her body, running her hands over her skin. The cold was starting to bite now, but she welcomed the discomfort. Once every trace of soap was rinsed away, Bulma shut off the water. Cold droplets clung to her skin, her damp hair sticking to her neck and shoulders. Without reaching for a towel, she padded over to her tub and twisted the hot water tap. Steam began to curl into the air as the tub filled, and she added a generous pour of bubble bath and a few drops of lavender oil.
While the tub filled, Bulma moved to the sink and grabbed her toothbrush. By the time she brushed her teeth, the water had risen to just the right level. She reached over and turned off the faucet and carefully dipped a toe in to test the water. Satisfied, she slowly lowered herself into the inviting warmth.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she sank deeper, resting her back against the smooth porcelain. She leaned back until her head met the waterproof pillow draped over the tub's edge. The heat seeped into her muscles, coaxing out the tension and stiffness that had been building all day.
As her body relaxed, her mind stubbornly began to wander again. Bulma closed her eyes, the outside world fading away as her thoughts inevitability turned towards the Saiyan again. The memory of the kiss they had shared had surfaced, and a slight smirk played on her lips as she replayed it in her mind, savoring every detail of the memory.
Her heart gave a wistful pang as she remembered how her breath had caught and the clear electricity that had crackled between them. Bulma really wished Vegeta would have taken her up on her invitation. But regretfully, he hadn't. So, for now, she vowed to stay in the tub until it inevitably cooled off since her time in the hot tub downstairs had gotten interrupted earlier.
Then afterward, she would towel off, blow-dry her hair, and crawl into bed. There wasn't much else to do tonight, anyway. And as much as she might long for more to happen between them, Bulma resigned herself to the warm, lavender-scented water.
xXx
Vegeta sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clenched into fists. His dark eyes glared down at the undeniable evidence of his frustration. His arousal strained against his shorts. Vegeta let out a low growl. He cursed his body for his betrayal. The relentless need for the woman seemed to plague him constantly now that he started paying her more attention.
Lately, it was all she was all he could think about—Bulma. The infuriating, sharp-tongued woman with piercing blue eyes and a body that seemed to have been sculpted for the sole purpose of driving him mad had invaded his mind. She had carved out a space and refused to leave. Awake or asleep, it didn't matter—she was there.
It was intolerable. Vegeta wasn't used to being at anyone's mercy, much less a human woman's. This was precisely why he'd decided to avoid her, to put distance between them. His pride demanded it. She was exerting a power over him that no one else ever had, and it enraged him. Staying away from her was Vegeta's way of regaining control and proving to himself that she didn't rule him.
But even as he tried to convenience himself of that, a gnawing uncertainty crept in. Keeping his distance only seemed to emphasize that what had happened between them meant something. And yet, what did it mean? Did it mean anything to her?
Vegeta didn't have answers, and the confusion only deepened with every passing day. Ever since he'd buried himself inside her, he'd been trapped in this maddening limbo of desire, anger, and something else he couldn't quite name.
He'd never experienced anything like this before. Females had always been simple. They served their purpose and were dismissed without a second thought. Their names, faces, and voices blurred together in his mind–insignificant and unworthy of lingering attention.
But Bulma… she was different. She wasn't just a fleeting distraction or a body to be used and forgotten. She was a force, a storm that had uprooted everything he thought he understood about himself.
The memory of her lips against his, how her body had fit against his own as though it were made for him, was seared into his thoughts. He clenched his fists as he fought to suppress the dire longing for her that threatened to consume him. This woman had done the impossible. She had tempted him. And for the first time in his life, Vegeta had no idea what to do.
Vegeta let out a frustrated growl as he pulled down his shorts to expose himself. He wrapped his hand firmly around himself. The grip of his palm offered a slight relief, but it wasn't what he craved. He closed his eyes, his breath caught in his throat as he worked his hand up and down, his mind betraying him by conjuring memories he's sworn to suppress.
He couldn't help but think back to the last time they'd been together when her lips had closed around him, her mouth so warm and soft. Vegeta's jaw clenched as a sharp surge of pleasure rippled through him, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, stifling the groan that threatened to escape. He hadn't refused her offer then, but now, sitting on his bed, with his body filled with desperate need, he wondered if it had been a mistake.
With a grunt, Vegeta laid back against the mattress, his free hand gripping the edge of the blanket as his other hand moved with increasing urgency. The sensation was good and pleasurable, but it paled compared to his memory. Vegeta's mind betrayed him again, painting vivid images of the way Bulma's body had felt against his, the way her breath had caught when he'd thrust into her from behind. Her husky and breathless voice echoed in his ears as though she were right there with him right now.
His hips bucked involuntarily as his hand worked faster, chasing a release that he knew wouldn't be satisfying. It never was, not when his imagination replayed every detail of their times together. She had felt so damn good—her body and her mouth felt as though they were made for him.
And this... This was why he needed to avoid her. The woman was a distraction—a dangerous one. Vegeta's focus needed to be on his training and his pursuit of power, not on the curve of Bulma's hips or the softness of her skin. Yet here he was, sprawled on his bed, his body betraying him with every stroke of his hand.
He forced his eyes open, glaring down at himself. The sight of his hand moving along his rigid length sent a jolt of irritation through him. What was he even doing? This was just another distraction, unlike the countless others he'd indulged in over the past week. If distractions were inevitable, why not indulge in her? At least with her, the pleasure was real.
The thought burned in his mind, both tempting and frustrating. Vegeta's hand slowed, his breath heavy and uneven as he wrestled with himself. He didn't have the answers to his questions, making his ache unbearable.
Vegeta let out a harsh breath, his hand falling away from himself in frustration. His jaw clenched tightly, and he ground his teeth together as anger surged through him. He should have never kissed her. That reckless, impulsive moment had been a lapse in judgment, a weakness he couldn't forgive. That man who had done that wasn't him; it was someone else, some stranger Vegeta didn't recognize.
The Vegeta he knew was a warrior, disciplined and unyielding. But where the woman was concerned, he barely recognized himself. He thought of her every waking moment, consumed by the memory of her scent, her touch, her sharp personality… It was all unbearable. He ran a hand roughly through his thick, black hair, tugging slightly as though trying to pull himself back to reality. With a low growl, Vegeta stood and strode toward the bathroom, his steps heavy with pent-up frustration.
He turned the shower handle, letting the hot water blast against the tiles. Steam quickly filled the small space, curling around him as he stepped under the steam. The scorching water flowed over his body, washing away the sweat that clung to his skin, but it did little to cleanse the turmoil of his mind. He shampooed and rinsed his hair, then soaped up his body, hoping to scrub away the lingering thoughts of her.
The water ran down his back, scalding and soothing all at once, but it wasn't enough. It couldn't drown out the stranger inside him—the one who had acted on primal instinct to kiss her, to claim her. That wasn't who he was.
Or was it?
Vegeta stepped out of the shower, water dripping from his skin as he grabbed a towel and dried off. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, sharp eyes narrowed, and lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't linger; instead, he dropped the towel and strode out of the bathroom to dress.
This time, he didn't fight the stranger within. Vegeta let that unfamiliar part of him—the part that craved her—take control. The stranger knew what he wanted, and for once, Vegeta didn't argue. He exited his room and headed straight to her quarters.