Disclaimer: I do not own or make a profit of the DBZ franchise. I do believe that the honor of creating such a show, manga, etc. is of Akira Toriyama. DBZ is a trademark of TOEI Animation (says on the label of DBZ videos) and licensed by FUNimation. So from all that legal stuff, you can conclude that I DO NOT own this stuff....I just get a kick of out using their characters for entertainment purposes. So please, do not sue.

Part One -Continued

*Lemon Warning*
 

    It was uneasy.
    Only two months had passed since that night. Her body and spirit were uncoordinated; her mind thought about one thing, her body reacted to another. Her stomach was nauseous, and there weren’t times were she could sleep the night through. Instead, she would awake before dawn, just to have anything present in her stomach forced out. She was used to hearing the plop, plop, plop sounds as whatever she had eaten the night before swirled in the toilet. She was used to hearing herself choke as she tried to end the sickening pain, used to wearily standing up to wipe her lips, and very much accustomed to washing her mouth out with icy water.
    What she was not accustomed to, however, was having someone present for all of it. It was odd to have Vegeta there, and yet not exactly there either. She knew he kept watch. She felt him near her, always observing, making sure nothing dangerous happened. At times, when she was weak enough to faint, he would always be there to catch her and take her to bed.
    But that, she expected. To see him so gentle, so caring...those were rare the moments.
She still remembered the way he had treated her after her first near fall. How he had carried her so safely, holding her curled up form to his own firmly. How at any other time, he probably would have just dumped her onto the mattress- to merely watch her body bounce against the springs- and instead, was excruciatingly careful. How he had pulled the sheets back to make enough space for her, his arms holding her body in place until he could gently lay her down, making sure she was covered up well -enough so she could be warm. And she recalled how he had slipped under the sheets to hold her, wrapping his arms around her body, making sure not to apply pressure to her stomach.
    It had been so...distinct. And so unlike him.
    But in a way, she could understand what he was feeling or at least comprehend what he was doing. He wasn’t sure what to say or what was expected of him, so he did what was out of habit and protected her. He made sure he was there, despite the mood between them. Maybe it was his own penance, because of the selfishness of his past or maybe it was because some part of him had always wanted to treat her that way and had only recently found a valid reason. But no matter what, he made sure that no harm would come to her.
    It was fine. She just had to get used to it. Because after all, she was used to doing this alone.
______

    He growled.
    ‘Why am I here? This woman, she is weak and needy. I am a warrior, not a nurse.’
    He didn’t want to care nor did he want to be so detailed. But she was weak, and as long as she was in this state, he had to care. She was so fragile, now more than ever, and if anything happened to her, it would be his fault. He was concerned for her health, and because he had no experience whatsoever in these types of situation, it made him all the more weary. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He wasn’t sure if her morning sickness was normal and he wasn’t sure to what extent this sudden weakness would go.
    He knew some things. His ‘teachings’ during his youth did cover females, but only in the mating sense. He knew about ‘etiquette’ and tradition, when to do what and where, but even that was mostly instinct. Child bearing was also ‘taught’, so he knew what to expect from a Saiyan woman, but it was mostly the woman’s doing. The woman knew what to do and the men were rarely present, unless there were complications. Besides, from what he had heard, the bond between mates was strong enough that they could both share their ki to support the child’s. And what he was ‘taught’ was just a vague description anyway, seeing as his ‘instructors’ were some of the last Saiyans that existed and weren’t the most reliable sources.
    He regretted not being there the first time. He could have at least then learned what happened during human pregnancy. And as he looked over to the bathroom door and heard his mate choking as usual, guilt washed over him.
    ‘Did she have to suffer this much? Are all humans this way or is it because she is a special case? Even so, I doubt I am of much help....I cause her more pain than protection.’
    And as he thought, a notion fell upon him.
    His race was a burden to her.
    He had seen pregnant humans before. They were large and emotional, but besides that, they had seemed to not experience pain. It was he who brought her this pain. It was his superior race, the race of strength....the race of power.
    He vaguely knew that even Saiyan women suffered through pregnancy, and ignorance was not an excuse to put his own woman through this again! She was a weak human- physically at least- and to have her suffer because of what he did was pernicious. His mental debate was then interrupted when Bulma stepped out of the bathroom. He looked up and noticed her weakened form. Her knees trembled as she stood, her lips discolored, eyes tired, and everything about her seemed to scream misery.
    She closed her eyes for a moment and somehow lost her balance. She tipped over, without enough strength to even cry out. He caught her quickly, before her knees had time to bend at that awkward angle, like a calf learning to walk for the first time. She groaned, blinking heavily once, and sagged into him as he carried her back to bed.
    He growled at himself. His mind seemed to taunt him, a little demon emerging from the fragments of darkness that remained, and he felt as frustrated as when he had discovered he wasn’t the Legendary Super Saiyan.
    ‘This is what you do to those you care for? Vegeta, you are one fucking sorry bastard.’
He went to bed and held Bulma gently in his arms as he buried his face in her shoulder and waited for his mind to continue the torture.
___________

    They were almost over, those first three months. The morning sickness had mostly disappeared, and except for the usual fatigue, she was content. Trunks was as helpful as possible and seemed even more protective than his father. Vegeta, however, had become distant, not as watchful as before, and it seemed as though it hurt him to be near her. She wasn’t sure what to think of it and ended up deciding that Vegeta’s character wasn’t likely to change because of this baby.
    He never publicly showed emotions, so his distance wasn’t really a surprise. But she caught him frequently with a pained expression on his face, his eyes in a faraway place, as his demeanor changed. He almost looked...regretful. That worried her, and because she knew she didn’t dare ask, she was left without insight to his mind.
______

    Chi-chi sat in her chair, quietly sipping her tea. Bulma had come to drop off Trunks, and soon after, both boys had run off. The house was left to the women. Since Goku was training, they both knew the house would be empty for a while.
    They were good friends, especially since their sons were very close and rarely spent time apart. The wives were used to seeing each other often, and even more-so when their sons made trouble. They had much in common, and because Chi-chi was the only one who had made it through two Saiyan pregnancies, she was a valuable asset to Bulma.
They had a routine, where the boys would escape leaving them to their own devices. They would have small talk, drink tea, and then- if time permitted- they would have personal conversations, discussing matters that were of real importance to them. Sometimes it would be work-related, other times, their husbands might slip through the cracks of privacy and an entirely new subject would be brought up.
    "How are you feeling?" It was the same opener every time, a courteous signal that they had plenty of time to talk.
    "I’m becoming less tired, which is my sign that the real pregnancy is about to begin."
    "Ah." Chi-chi nodded.
    "Don’t you think it’s a little weird that it took longer this time for my sickness to pass?"
The woman gave a confused expression. "What do you mean?"
    "I don’t know, I guess I feel more drained than I thought I would. I know Trunks was a long time ago, but I don’t remember being that tired with him. But this one....only now have I begun to feel better."
    The raven haired woman paused to think.
    "I’m not sure. Maybe everything might seem more...dramatic? I can’t really explain. It seems to me that Goten’s pregnancy was more difficult than Gohan’s. Maybe it has to do with their..." She blushed, and coughed lightly. "Conception. Goku seems to think that the stronger he was, the stronger our sons would be. It may be a Saiyan thing. Are you worried?"
    Bulma looked down, her hand resting lightly on her stomach.
    "A little, I just don’t want anything to go wrong."
    "Well if you’re worried, why don’t you ask Vegeta?" the woman briskly suggested. "If anyone should know about Saiyan babies, it should be him." She stood up, carrying her cup to the kitchen. Her voice floated into the room, the sound of running water accompanying it. "Besides," she added, "Vegeta is so proud of his race, there shouldn’t be much problem getting answers from him." She walked back in, wiping her hands on a cloth. "I wish I could help you more. But I can only tell you what happened, not why. And...." She hesitated. "You know I’m not entirely... human. Other than Videl, you’re the only other one to go through it, and Gohan’s only half –Saiyan....Sorry, Bulma, but you’re one of a kind." The blue haired beauty sighed.
    "Well, getting answers from Vegeta will be no picnic." Chi-chi frowned.
    "Maybe. You never know what to expect from that man, but you can always hope for the best." She smiled. "So, do you want something to eat?"
_____

    He had spent the entire day thinking about it. What could he do to make this easier on her? It had been a waste of a day, spending time thinking about Bulma instead of training. He sat at the floor of the GR, his legs crossed as he tried to meditate.
    "Our existence is one." He frowned, his scowl growing deeper. "And whatever happened before we were together.... That is in the past." He stood up, growling furiously as he punched one of the walls.
    No! I am not ready for this, I never have been! It’s a weakness, she will not accept it! I’ve done too much wrong, and she may understand some, but she does not know all. I cannot put her through the pain of knowing what I was. I cannot allow it!
    He breathed heavily, his rage disappearing as quickly as it had come and compelling him to sit back down.
    Am I ready for this? I have tried to prove myself worthy; I’ve striven to show her my merit. I have given my life for her and I’d give more. It has been no sacrifice to be with her, she accepted me readily before I accepted her. She allowed me into her body and her heart, do I not owe her? Does she not deserve to grasp what she desires? She asks that I allow her inside, she asks that we become one. I’m a fool to have not given her such a thing earlier, but perhaps it is better now...... perhaps I shall give her all.
    He left the room and went in search of his mate.
______

    He found her soundly asleep in their bedroom. The room was dark, with a single window open, light passing through to her form. It was late, so he quietly stepped into the room, closing the door behind him as he made his way to the bed. He watched her sleep. He felt calmed by her presence, his body slowly filling with need as he observed her light breathing, as her chest rose and dropped, her lips parted with each breath.
    By god...
    He undressed, slipping under the covers and placing his body next to hers, making sure not to touch her. In a moment, his fingers began tracing lightly over her arms, caressing the curves that led into the dip of her neck. He kissed softly around her shoulders, sliding the strap of her nightgown down, exposing the skin to his anxious lips, and kissed until he reached her lower back, before making his way back up again. She sighed, turning over to face him, the loose fabric exposing one of her breasts. As he bent down, tasting the bountiful flesh, his fingers carefully removed the rest her silk covering. He had turned back to her rosy chest when he felt a hand brushing through his hair.
    "Vegeta," she breathed, her eyes still closed. "It’s really you." He looked up curiously, an amused look playing across his face.
    "Who would it be?" Her chest dropped as she exhaled. "I thought I was still dreaming." She looked at him through heavily lidded eyes and smiled.
    "I was having an....interesting dream." She blushed, the heat rising to her cheeks. "It was kinda erotic."
    "Oh?" His eyebrows rose. She looked down, finding the top half of her body bare.
    "What are we doing here?" He gave a wry smile.
    "Waking you." He leaned in to kiss her breast again, but her hand stopped him. Her fingers tilted his chin up, her eyes shinning brightly.
    "Up here." She pointed to her lips and pulled him in. She kissed him slowly, her lips brushing lightly over his until her tongue dropped in to explore. She wrapped her arms around him, her hands readily roaming his body, encouraging him to do the same. His fingers traced over her figure, resting a hand on her hip as the other removed any remaining clothing. He touched her damp core, dipping two fingers and testing her reaction. She moaned against his mouth and his fingers moved in again. His thick organ already throbbed with arousal and he quickly removed his hand to replace it with himself. He began slowly and deeply, his lips never loosing contact with hers. As he felt her body respond to his movements, he could sense their child as well.
    "Bulma," he rasped. "We shall be joined by your rites."
    He trembled when he felt her moist breath around his throat, her nibbling and nipping making it difficult to concentrate.
    She then blinked, unable to form any coherent thoughts at the moment.
    "What?" He pushed deeper into her body and she cried out. "Mm-marriage?" He kissed her roughly, tongues massaging tediously, bodies moving erratically. In between kisses, he growled.
    "Yes." His hands slid down her hips, to grip her rear. "I know you’ve wanted to..." He hissed as he felt her tongue dipping into his chest, beads of sweat rolling down his throat. "Or," he took a gulp of air, "is that an assumption?" Their slick bodies moved fluidly, friction creating sounds of pleasure. She bucked against him, her nails digging into his back.
    "Wh...wh-why nowwww-Kami!" she cried out hoarsely. He grunted, his control quickly slipping away.
    "Does it matter?" he questioned, his breathing ragged.
    The bed frame groaned at their rhythm, the room echoing with arduous breathing. She sucked at his chest and shoulders, her hands rubbing over his hard stomach. "I’m-" He stiffened when he felt her warm hands touch where they joined and in answer, he gripped the sheets as rapture shot through his groin. "I’m giving you....what you want..." He released a guttural groan. "Take. It. Just....decide wh-when." She clung desperately to his body, a thick scent filling her lungs. She searched for his lips, moaning his name repeatedly. Their hips pushed at each other, frantically seeking release. Their eyes locked intently, reflecting each other’s need.
    He spilled his seed into her, as she came into him, their bodies shuddering in delight, skin glowing with exhaustion. He continued to move slowly, prolonging the numb feeling in his mind, but when it eventually passed, Vegeta collapsed next to his mate, fighting to quickly regain stability. Bulma, however, promptly fell asleep, and the light, even breathing he had heard before soon reached his ears. He rested for a moment before walking over to the open window, and spent the rest of the night contemplating on his own and observing the stars.