.:TWENTY-ONE:.
Vegeta awoke the next morning feeling more rested than he had in years. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, and for a moment, he allowed himself to bask in the peace. His body was still wrapped protectively around Bulma, her warmth pressed against him, her steady breathing a quiet rhythm he could feel against his chest. He hadn't moved the entire night, he realized, still in the same position he had fallen asleep in. The only difference was that she had turned to face him at some point, her head resting against his shoulder, her hair a soft tangle of blue against the pillow.
She was beautiful—so beautiful it made his chest ache in a way he couldn't describe. His fingers itched to reach out and trace the delicate lines of her face, the soft curve of her cheek. But he refrained, hesitant to disturb her. The thought of waking her from such peaceful slumber felt almost sacrilegious.
Last night had been... amazing. The word felt foreign, ridiculous even, yet it was the only one that seemed to fit. He'd never thought to describe sex in such terms, but then again, last night hadn't been just sex. It had been something else entirely, something he couldn't quite define, but that had left a deep impression on him.
What was it that had made it so different? He wondered. Sure, trying different positions had been part of the novelty, but it went far beyond that. There had been something in the way she looked at him, her eyes filled with trust and tenderness he didn't think he deserved. Something in how she'd taken the lead at moments, guiding him confidently, had made his pulse quicken.
It wasn't just physical. Vegeta didn't know how to articulate the shift, even to himself, but there was a deep, simmering change in how he saw her. His feelings for Bulma churned within him, a chaotic storm of emotions that he didn't know how to navigate. Pride. Fear. Desire. And something dangerously close to devotion.
His brows furrowed as he stared at her, torn between the instinct to pull her closer and the urge to push her away and leave her presence permanently before she unraveled him completely. For a man who had always lived by his strength and solitude, this connection—this vulnerability—felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Whatever had happened last night had shifted something fundamental in him, and he wasn't sure he could ever go back or even sure he wanted to.
Last night, Vegeta had been someone different—a version of himself he hardly recognized and hadn't resisted. He had surrendered to pure instinct, allowing the barriers he so tightly maintained all his life to dissolve in her presence. And after spilling his seed within her, something primal in his Saiyan bloodline had surged to the forefront, compelling him to care for her in a way that went beyond physical gratification. The need had been overwhelming, unrelenting, and so he'd scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom.
Under the cascade of warm water, he had washed her with care, his hands lingering just enough to ensure every trace of their union was cleansed from her skin. It hadn't been about control—it had meant something deeper, a protective instinct he hadn't known existed within him. Vegeta had wanted to take care of Bulma, and when they had returned to bed, the feeling hadn't dissipated. If anything, it had only grown stronger as she drifted to sleep in his arms. Vegeta had felt a fierce determination to guard her, to shield her from any threat that might encroach on their sleeping quarters.
Now, as Vegeta gazed down at her peaceful face, he wrestled with questions that refused to leave him. How had it taken a human woman—this woman—to awaken such feelings in him? Why did she make him feel this way? He considered the possibility that it was just the sex, that the novelty of trying new things with her had tricked his mind into overanalyzing the experience. For a moment, he entertained the notion that he was simply infatuated and smitten because he couldn't deny her beauty.
Vegeta had encountered his fair share of alluring females in his travels, yet none had held his attention like Bulma. Her piercing blue eyes had been the first thing to capture him. From the moment she had the audacity to talk back to him, those fiery eyes held him captive, sparking a fascination he hadn't known was growing. Somewhere along the way, he'd become smitten with her, though the realization unnerved him. Vegeta wasn't sure what it meant or where it would lead, but he couldn't deny that this human woman had changed something within him, and that truth was both exhilarating and terrifying.
This, of course, was something Vegeta would never admit out loud. Not to anyone, and certainly not to the woman in his arms. Words had always felt clumsy and inadequate to express when it came to his emotions, but now, holding her so close, Vegeta couldn't ignore the truth he felt. Each time they had been intimate, he was left shaken—not from regret, but from the terrifying vulnerability it unearthed within him. Yet this moment, this quiet stillness with her tucked against him, was different. It was grounding, and Vegeta found that he didn't want it to end.
He wished he could freeze time and live forever in the warmth blossoming in his chest, the unfamiliar yet intoxicating sensation that spread through him whenever he looked at her. This raw affection was almost unbearable and made him feel very exposed.
As if sensing his thoughts, her brows furrowed slightly, and her lashes fluttered open. The vivid blue of her eyes met him, and immediately, her lips curved into a soft, lazy smile.
"Mornin'," she murmured, her voice rough with sleep.
Vegeta gave a brief nod, his throat constricting. Speaking felt too risky, with everything racing through his mind this morning. Before he could even think of what to say, Bulma shifted, wrapping her arms around him and pressing herself fully against him, her head resting on his chest.
Vegeta tensed, unprepared for the wave of heat that surged through him at the contact. Her proximity, the softness of her body against his, stirred something primal. Though he willed himself to stay still, his body betrayed him. A twitch down below, faint but undeniable, made him curse inwardly, grinding his teeth in frustration as he subtly pulled his hips back, desperate to keep her from noticing.
Her lips brushed against his chest, soft and lingering, leaving a searing warmth in their wake. Vegeta's heart thundered in his ribcage as though it might break free and expose the storm of emotions he fought to contain. Then, as if she knew exactly what to do to break him, her hand slid lower.
Without warning, her fingers wrapped around his hardened length, and a sharp gasp escaped his lips. His dark eyes snapped to hers, wide with surprise. She held his gaze, and her hand began to move. Her grip was firm yet teasing, each stroke deliberate and fully intoxicating. Vegeta's breath hitched, and his nostrils flared as pleasure coiled through him like a live wire. His body, always so disciplined, was so easily betrayed by this woman.
When her thumb grazed the sensitive tip of his cock, spreading the wetness that had already gathered there, he let out a low, guttural groan. His hand reached out instinctively, gripping her bicep with a strength that was equal parts want and equal parts restraint. She didn't falter, her hand continuing its rhythm, stroking him with a passion and confidence that sent shivers running down his spine.
Vegeta bit his bottom lip, and his usual stoic composure unraveled with every stroke she gave. The heat between them was electric, all-consuming, and he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own. And just as he moved to deepen the kiss, the spell was shattered between them by the abrupt sound of a knock at the door.
The two froze as they both turned their heads toward the unwelcome interruption. Vegeta's jaw clenched, and his expression darkened, torn between frustration and the lingering haze of pleasure he'd just been experiencing seconds ago.
"Bulma, are you up?"
The gratingly familiar voice was of her mother. Vegeta growled under his breath at the intrusion.
"Yes, Mom," Bulma called out, her voice calm. "Just a second."
Vegeta was already moving out of the bed. His body relaxed only a second ago, was now taut with tension as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and began scanning the room for his scattered clothing. Bulma reached out, her hand pressing lightly against his bare back skin, halting his motion.
"Don't go," she whispered, her voice soft, almost pleading. "Not yet."
He stiffened as her words lingered in the air. Vegeta's dark eyes flicked toward her. He said nothing, but he knew the unspoken conflict in his gaze was clear because she pulled back and got off the bed. As he gathered his clothes, he watched Bulma slip into the robe she'd been wearing the previous night, which she tied tightly, then padded toward the door.
Vegeta had his shorts on and was out on her balcony before he heard the bedroom door open. He landed on his own a few rooms down seconds later, relief washing over him, for he did not want to be caught in her room, especially by her mother. Then, a thought slapped him in the face. What if Bulma told her mother what happened? The thought gripped him, twisting his gut into knots. She was impulsive, loud, and had no sense of subtlety. The image of her sitting at breakfast, casually spilling every intimate detail to her parents, made his jaw clench.
Once inside his room, Vegeta threw his shoes against the wall with a growl, and they landed with a satisfying thump. Then, without another thought, he yanked on some new training gear. She better keep her damn mouth shut if she knew what was good for her. It wouldn't take much for him to destroy this entire place if she spoke out of turn. He could always train somewhere else.
Vegeta leaped over the balcony railing as his mind churned, descending swiftly to the ground. The gravity chamber loomed ahead, and he strode toward it purposefully, determined to throw himself into his training and sweat out the chaos in his head. Avoidance had always been his strategy, which would be no different this time. Whatever happened between them would remain precisely where it belonged—in the past. He would not—no, could not—get sucked inside her trap.
xXx
Later that afternoon, Bulma climbed the steps down to Capsule Corp at a snail's pace, her thoughts a tangled mess. The vivid images of the night before refused to leave her mind, playing repeatedly with tantalizing clarity. Every stolen kiss, every whispered breath, and touch were all burned into her memory. Last night had been everything she had ever imagined and more, a culmination of emotions she hadn't even realized she'd been suppressing.
And then, this morning, her mother had doused their shared intimacy with a cold bucket of water in true Mrs. Brief fashion. Bulma groaned at the memory, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. The sheer frustration of it made her want to scream. Vegeta had retreated so quickly, like a ghost vanishing into the night, leaving her alone with the echoes of what they'd shared. It was maddening, yet she couldn't entirely blame him.
She sighed, pausing mid-step. She understood why he'd left. He was a private man—too private, honestly. And while she might have wished for him to stay, to let her hold him for just a little longer, his abrupt departure was as predictable as the sunrise. No one could know what had happened between them, and she wasn't about to be the one to let it slip.
No one could ever know because how could she explain it? How could she admit to everyone she cared about that she had slept with someone they all despised? Someone responsible for so much pain. Vegeta wasn't just any man; he was someone who had killed people she loved, someone who was still hell-bent on defeating Goku, someone who had threatened to destroy the planet more times than she could count. The weight of her actions pressed heavily on her chest. If her friends ever found out, they'd be horrified, and the thought made her want to throw up. She swallowed hard, trying to push the guilt aside.
When she finally reached her office door, she hesitated momentarily, resting her hand on the handle. Memories of Vegeta flooded back unbidden but sharp and vivid. This was where last night had all started—the first place he'd kissed her. That memory felt like a lifetime ago, but it was still etched into her mind like a permanent mark. She longed to rewind time, to relive the night before, to feel his touch and hear his voice.
With a resigned sigh, Bulma stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She sank into her chair, running a hand through her hair before booting up her computer. The soft hum of the machine filled the silence, but it did nothing to quiet the storm in her mind. Bulma sat back in her chair and pulled up the monitor feed for the gravity chamber.
The screen flickered to life, revealing Vegeta in the middle of an intense training session. Her breath caught as her eyes traced his movements. He was breathtaking. His body moved with fluid precision, muscles taut and glistening with sweat as he floated effortlessly through the air, evading the blasts fired by the rounded training bots. His focus was unrelenting, his energy crackling visibly around him like a storm barely contained.
Yet, despite the raw power on display, all Bulma could think about was the contrast to the man she'd been with the night before. The memory sent a wave of heat through her. She could hardly believe it had happened. That this same man, so wild and unpredictable, had been so gentle, so careful, as if she were something precious.
"What do you want?"
The harshness of Vegeta's voice snapped her from her thoughts, cutting through the hum of the gravity chamber feed. On the screen, he stopped mid-air, turning to glare directly at her. His expression was a mask of irritation, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for her response.
Bulma frowned, his tone stinging more than she cared to admit. The man addressing her now sounded nothing like the one who held her so tenderly mere hours ago. She sighed inwardly, a pang of disappointment twisting in her stomach. Of course, he'd revert back to this version of himself. She should have known better than to expect anything else.
One night wouldn't magically transform him. Bulma scoffed at herself. Who was she kidding? This was Vegeta, after all. Still, her heart ached as she leaned closer to the monitor, forcing herself to meet his gaze through the screen.
"I want that humanoid robot in a capsule so I can fix it," she snapped in irritation.
Vegeta turned his head, his dark eyes narrowing as they landed on the crumpled robot lying lifeless on the chamber floor.
"That's what I was knocking for earlier, Vegeta!" Bulma yelled, her frustration bubbling over.
She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him through the monitor as she recalled venturing to the gravity chamber with a new capsule in hand. Bulma had knocked and waited for five minutes without a single response. The rotten Saiyan had ignored her completely.
On the screen, Vegeta reached into his pocket and pulled out the capsule she'd dropped the night before. Bulma blinked in surprise. She hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.
"Put it in that capsule. I'll be back up to get it from you," she bit out through clenched teeth, barely able to contain her anger.
Vegeta's only response was a slight tilt of his head, and by the time she made it back to the gravity chamber, her irritation was boiling over. When she found the small blue capsule sitting neatly on the ramp against the closed door, she wanted to scream! He hadn't even bothered to hand it to her! No—he'd just left it there for her to pick up. Muttering curses under her breath, she bent down to retrieve it, her fingers curling around the capsule.
"Stupid Saiyan," she grumbled, straightening up with a huff.
xXx
Vegeta stood watching her through one of the gravity chamber's rounded windows. His dark eyes followed her as she walked away, and his body betrayed him almost instantly, heat pooling low in his abdomen as arousal surged through him. He cursed under his breath, scowling at his own lack of control.
This was exactly why Vegeta didn't open the door earlier. He knew her presence would undo him. Yet here he was, unable to tear his gaze away from her as she stormed off. The way she moved drove him mad in a way he couldn't explain.
His hand hovered over the control panel by the wall, a silent war raging within him. But as she reached the back porch steps, something snapped. Without thinking, he pressed the button and the door to the gravity chamber slid open with a hiss.
The sound stopped her in her tracks. She froze for a moment, her head tilting slightly before she turned around, her expression shifting from anger to confusion. Her eyes, which had been blazing with irritation moments ago as she retrieved the capsule, were now wide and cautious.
"Vegeta?" she called out hesitantly.
Vegeta remained behind the window, his lips pressed into a tight line as he watched her. She hadn't seen him yet, focused entirely on the open doorway. She looked vulnerable and uncertain, and briefly, he considered saying something to break the silence. But he stayed silent.
Her hesitation only lasted a few seconds before she moved forward again, her steps slow and deliberate. She climbed the ramp cautiously, pausing just outside the chamber.
"Vegeta?" she called again, softer this time.
The moment she crossed the threshold, her feet fully inside the chamber, he slammed his hand against the control panel. The door slid shut behind her with a soft thud, sealing them in.
Before she could react, he moved. In an instant, he was in front of her, his hands gripping her waist as his mouth claimed her with an intensity that left no room for doubt. Her gasp of surprise melted into a moan as he pulled her against him.
xXx
Before Bulma could fully process what was happening, she found herself being carried effortlessly down the narrow staircase to the lower level of the chamber where the small studio was tucked away. Vegeta's grip on her was firm, and her heart raced with the rush of their descent. By the time her back met with the soft mattress, her shorts and underwear were already gone, and her body welcomed him completely as he slid into her with ease.
A deep moan escaped her lips as she clawed at his shoulders, her nails digging into the damp sheen of sweat that coated his muscular frame. Vegeta began to move, his rhythm slow and deliberate at first, each thrust igniting a fire that burned brighter with every motion. It wasn't long before he quickened his pace, finding an even, driving tempo that made her gasp with each collision of their bodies.
As Vegeta's body moved rhythmically above hers, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that was almost unnerving. Within his gaze, something shifted—subtle but which tugged at Bulma's chest. It wasn't pity, nor was it sadness, but it struck a chord deep within her, almost breaking her heart. Though their bodies were locked in the throes of passion, Vegeta looked… lost.
The sight of him like this—a man so strong, so untouchable, now seeming vulnerable in a way she had never imagined—chipped at her heart. WIthout thinking, she reached up and cupped his cheek, her touch tender. Vegeta immediately leaned into her hand, his eyelids fluttering close. His breathing was heavy, raw, and unguarded. She slipped her fingers around the back of his neck with her other hand, threading them through his hair.
For a moment, time seemed to still, the intensity between them shifting into something softer, unspoken but deeply felt. Then, Vegeta sat back on his knees, his hands gripping her thighs firmly. The quick motion sent a jolt of pleasure through Bulma, and a loud moan escaped her lips as he picked up speed, driving into her with renewed determination.
When his eyes met hers again, the lost look from before had vanished, replaced by the stoic Vegeta she had come to know so well. His jaw was set, and his gaze burned with resolve. Every grunt of pleasure he made was almost primal, and it sent a thrill down her spine. Bulma closed her eyes and arched her back, her hands gripping the sheets as she surrendered fully to the moment, her own pleasure building with each passing second.
Just as she was on the brink of release, Vegeta reached his first. With a sharp, guttural sound, his body tensed, and she felt him spill into her, the sensation pushing her even closer to the edge. But before she could follow him over, Vegeta leaned forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her closer. The sudden embrace caught her off guard, but she instinctively responded, wrapping her arms around his neck, and holding him just as fiercely.
Burying her face into the crook of his neck, she inhaled his scent, her body trembling against his. She clung to him as if the world outside had disappeared, as if holding him could somehow keep them both from falling apart. For that brief moment, there was nothing else—no doubts, no fears, just the raw connection between them.
As the waves of pleasure began to ebb, the two stayed entwined for a moment longer, their bodies trembling in the afterglow. The silence between them was warm and intimate, punctuated only by the sound of their mingled breathing. But like all things, the moment had to end. With slow motion, Vegeta released her and pulled away, his touch lingering for just a second longer than necessary.
Bulma sighed softly as she sat up, reaching for the towel Vegeta handed her. They cleaned themselves in quiet efficiency, and by the time Bulma got off the bed, her gaze fell on the shredded remains of her shorts and underwear strewn across the floor. She groaned, bending to pick them up.
Holding up the tattered pieces of fabric, she turned toward Vegeta, who had already slipped into a fresh pair of shorts.
"And what exactly am I supposed to do?"
Vegeta smirked, his arms crossing over his chest. "Figure it out, woman."
Before she could fire back, he was already climbing the narrow staircase to the main floor of the chamber. Bulma grumbled under her breath as she tossed the ruined shorts back onto the floor and hurried after him.
"Vegeta, you tore my clothes apart!" she called out, annoyed.
He turned slightly, an amused glint in his eyes, and laughed, a sound she rarely heard. "Grab some of mine if you're so modest."
Bulma's irritation softened at the sight of his amusement.
"Fine," she muttered, giving in. "I'll take some shorts, but I will not be walking to my room through the house! You'll take me to my balcony."
After she slipped into a pair of his shorts that hung low on her hips, Bulma returned to the main chamber to find Vegeta messing with the control panel.
"Now, take me to my room!" she said firmly, crossing her arms.
Vegeta groaned, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Come here, woman."
Bulma strode over, and he effortlessly scooped her into his arms. The sudden motion left her momentarily speechless, but when he opened the gravity chamber door and leaped into the air, her heart raced for an entirely different reason. They were on her balcony too soon for her liking, and before she knew it, he was gently sitting her down.
"Thank you," she said, smoothing her hair as she composed herself. Then with a sly grin, she leaned against the balcony railing. "So… you wanna join me for a swim?"