Vegeta's Confusion 

AUTHOR: Ravyn Night 
PAIRING: Bulma and Vegeta, of course! 
RATING: R or NC-17 (course, I'm not even 17...) 
WARNINGS: Lemon 
NOTES: Long, for a one-parter

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Vegeta glared at the door contemptuously. He could sense what was happening beyond it, in a nearby part of the house. The woman was in the bathroom, primping for that weak little human she thought she was in “love” with. Stupid humans. With all their confusing emotions, it was a wonder the race had survived this long. Emotions make one weak, and impair everything.

 Or so the Saiyan prince assured himself. The truth was, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Not that he’d admit his uncertainty to anyone, it was demeaning that he could admit it to himself, but it was there. He didn’t have those stupid feelings. The only emotion that was allowed was anger. He didn’t possess those weak emotions, like affection or concern; they’d been beaten out of him young, as they were with every member of the Royal “Family.”

 Yet a third-class loser sent off the planet and reared by weaklings, a sad excuse for a Saiyan with his weakling emotions, was the strongest person in the known Universe.

 Kakarott claimed that it was his emotions that gave him his power. The need to protect the Chikyuu natives who’d raised him, who cared about him, made him strong. He said he didn’t want his “loved ones” to die. Love again. Humans seemed to attribute it with great joy and great pain. Were they all sado-masochists, then? They said love went beyond affections, something nearly incomprehensible to the Saiyan mind. Yet he could think of it. The damn humans were corrupting him.

 And making his thoughts wander the wrong direction during meditation. Vegeta blew out a breath in exasperation. Why should he care? Saiyans didn’t care. Period.

 Two months ago, he’d realized he couldn’t defeat Kakarott. The realization had hurt, but not physically. He, a Saiyan, had cared about his rank, about becoming the strongest in the Universe. So there was one thing Saiyans did care about: military matters. But that was all. And under the heading of Military Matters came the Super Saiyan. He carried the gene; why had Kakarott done it first? Maybe it wasn’t genetic. Or maybe-his mind shied from the thought, but then decided to face it-it was sparked by emotion. Kakarott had been angrier than he’d ever before been when he went Super Saiyan. Which meant emotions could make you strong, too.

 Which was complete nonsense! And his thoughts were wandering again! Gah…! No wonder that baka Kakarott was so stupid; this planet messed with a person’s mind!

 Surging to his feet, he quit the room. He flew to a remote island in the Philippines, inhabited only by small animals and insects. He never saw the beautifully attired Bulma peek out the window wistfully, wondering why she was doing so, wondering why, since she’d met Vegeta, she could muster only slight affection for her boyfriend.

 Vegeta landed gently on the rocky island, thinking that maybe he could concentrate here, and not have to hear the woman return either babbling in euphoria about her frail beau, or sobbing herself sick and destroying any remaining breakable objects. Both disturbed his training, because when she was happy she had this odd desire to share it, and when she was sad there wasn’t really any way to avoid her, and he could never seem to stay away. Being Yamcha’s girlfriend wasn’t good for her-dammit he didn’t care! He wouldn’t care! He had one of the strongest wills in the Universe, he wouldn’t succumb to weak human feelings

 He was on his island, his place, and wouldn’t let her interfere here. Vegeta took a breath, sat down in lotus position, levitated, and meditated for several hours.

 Bulma came back babbling in euphoria. “Oh, Mom! It was so much fun tonight. We went to that new restaurant on Fuji Street, and it was great! The had a live band, and the food was heavenly. Yamcha even arranged for the band to sing to me! Can you believe it? He’s so sweet!” She went on.

 She does realize that the boy has probably been taking all his girlfriends there on different nights, doesn’t she? Only a human could miss something so obvious. For as intelligent as she usually appeared to be, she is a fool, Vegeta thought as he inhaled a meal that could more than satisfy four humans. He’d come back late thinking he would miss most of the mooning or fuming. No such luck. They had stayed out later than usual tonight, doing Kami-knows-what.

 He didn’t care!

 But she did look great in that blue ankle length dress. It showed off more of her skin than he would have that idiot of hers see, but managed to look sophisticated at the same time. His body tensed in response, but he suppressed the reaction. He had to do that a lot lately.

 Grrrrrr… He was spending too much time dwelling on Earthlings.

 “Hey Dad! I just got an email from Ravyn Night and she says that-”

 "Night? I don’t seem to recall….”

“You remember her. She was at the technology conference in New York City, in the U.S.? The one who inherited a fortune from her unknown grandmother and started her own business? We got to talking about some of the newer computer designs and became good friends?” 

“I’m sorry, honey, but I don’t seem to remember anyone by that-”

 “You don’t remember the woman who created Intercomm?!” Bulma shrieked, annoyed.

 “Oh! Oh, well yes, I do remember her now. She’s one of our worst overseas competitors in the areas of aero and astronautics.” Vegeta, who had stopped in the doorway, cocked his head. The Briefs had competitors? He’d assumed that the only place to get technology was from Capsule Corp., that they’d had a monopoly on the industry, like so many other planets. He’d been after food, deciding to rest for a second after hours of training.

 “Good,” Bulma said, pleased. “She’s coming here in three and a half weeks,” she announced casually, as if this wouldn’t interfere with anyone in the least. She walked toward the doorway where he stood, obviously intending to go back to her lab. He stepped back to allow her through, but she stopped. “Oh, and Vegeta?” He raised a brow in his do-you-really-think-I-give-a-damn expression. “I told her that you’d tell her about alien technology. She’ll be interested in space vehicles, teleportation, inter-dimensional travel, that sort of thing. You know, all the stuff I can’t pry out of you.” She was smiling slightly, obviously amused at his anger.

 “What?! I’m not wasting my time telling some stupid human about anything. I need to train, not talk to some dumb girl I don’t even know just because you humans are too stupid to figure things out for yourselves! And what do you mean, coming here?” By the time he was done yelling, Bulma was no longer smirking at him, she was mad, too. It was easy to tell; cheeks flushed, eyes sparkly, mouth compressed. Actually quite beautiful. Now where did that thought come from?

 “I mean, she’s going to be in town for that conference I’m going to and needs a place to stay, so I offered her a room here. She’s my friend.”

 “The last thing I need is another babbling female with too many questions getting in my way and interrupting my training. And why are you letting her stay here? You just said she was your enemy!”

 “Enemy? She’s not an enemy! She just owns a rival business!” And you just contradicted yourself, he thought. “Listen, you small-brained, kill-everything-first-and-don’t-even-bother-with-questions, stupid, arrogant Saiyan, here on Earth, kisama, we have such a thing as friendly competition! Which I know is something you don’t understand, since you don’t even know what a friend is!” With that parting shot, she huffed off, leaving a very angry and confused Saiyan behind. How dare she! He was Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans, King actually, and could kill her with a stray flick of his ki. How could she say such things to him, in that tone of voice? How could she say all that without stopping to breathe?

 He admitted he didn’t ask questions, because questions were usually pointless. And those cracks about friendship and competition? A friend as a weakness, a liability that could be used against you. And what was the point of fighting if you didn’t care about winning, if you helped an enemy who could defeat you?

 Shimatta, he didn’t like this! He was always confused around here, and she only made it worse. He grabbed an unopened package of lunchmeat, the milk, and a new loaf of bread, and headed back to the gravity room. He may not be able to get as strong as Kakarott, but damned if he was going to be left behind as a weakling.

 It took him a while, as he practiced, to realize that his mouth was pulled in what could almost pass as a grin. The woman looked stunning when she was riled, with her eyes sparkling dangerously and her usually pale face flushed. He hated it when she was mad at others; that proved she cared about them. He ignored that this line of thinking could explain why he relished in provoking her. He also ignored his body’s reaction to his thoughts. Thank Kami for military discipline. Or ignorance.

 This was the day that Ravyn Night had arrived, and Vegeta was in a black mood. He was still puzzled, but ruthlessly suppressed it. The woman had been just as kind to Bulma as Bulma was to her. They were enemies, but they didn’t fight with each other. It just went to prove that Bulma was lying when she said that she didn’t hate him anymore. They discussed their ideas and problems! In a battle, would you tell a worthy the enemy what your strengths and weaknesses were? That was what she was doing!

 Well, they hadn’t been successful at getting him to bother with them. While that Ravyn person didn’t have the proclivity to run at the mouth like Bulma, she made cool cracks at certain things that unnerved him. Bulma stuck to her usual loud, obvious method. Both were too curious and cocky for their own good. He hated being questioned, it sometimes evoked unacknowledged twinges of unease, which always angered him by their existence.

 This was the day that Ravyn had arrived, and Vegeta was in a black mood. He’d managed to dissuade Bulma from making him talk to her, but after that fight, she’d refused to respond to any of the usual taunts. He was still at baffled, but didn’t let it show. The other woman had been just as kind to Bulma as Bulma was to Ravyn. They discussed their plans! That would be like telling a worthy enemy exactly what you were going to do, and then expecting the enemy not to do anything in response. And it worked! It was obvious neither one was going to change their plans because of the discussion, like they’d already known what the other was doing, just not in detail. 

While Ravyn didn’t have the tendency to run at the mouth like Bulma did, she made cool little comments that irritated him, whenever he was nearby. Bulma made her insults and opinions clear, no guesswork, but Ravyn was subtle about it. He preferred Bulma’s louder method.

 “So, what’s been happening in the US?”

 “The usual. Hollywood scandals, drug busts, school shootings, and politicians always promising to fix it. The new President, Jason MacEwing, is just as bad as the last one.”

 “Yeah, we have that problem here, too. They’re all corrupt. For once, in some miracle world, I’d like there to be a good politician. But it’ll never happen.”

 “Bulma, “good” and “politician” shouldn’t be placed together in a sentence without either the word lies, or a negative. They certainly shouldn’t be juxtaposed.” She slanted a glance at him. “That’s just like saying “military intelligence,” it’s an oxymoron.” She smirked. Obviously she’d heard a little about him and hadn’t liked it. And the most galling thing was that Bulma went along with her.

 “They probably all study Machiavelli’s The Prince in depth before they begin their campaigns.” Vegeta had no clue who this Machiavelli or his Prince was, but obviously they weren’t very respected.

 He didn’t appreciate that remark about military intelligence, but he could no longer just kill anyone who annoyed him. Why was this stupid planet structured this way, and why had it succeeded were Vejiitasei had not?

 She looked nice laughing, too. He went into the gravity room, where he knew they wouldn’t bother him for fear of their lives.

 Another round of laughter permeated his gravity room. Little fool, she was willingly giving her enemy information that could be used against her. And she was giggling about it. Gahh! Was she completely insane? Once again, he thought of how she looked laughing, with her azure pools sparkling and her cheeks rosy. The only way he could do that to her was when he made her angry—which was easy to do. He couldn’t make her look that way and enjoy it, though. He didn’t know why he cared, just that he’d stopped denying it.

 But it this was the strategy that humans could use to become among the wealthiest on the planet, how had this world survived? It was a question that plagued him, like a lingering fever that refused to break. If this naïve, trusting planet, whose only defense was Kakarott and the Z warriors, who, a few years ago, had struggled to defeat Radditz, how could it have survived so long? How could it thrive to the point where it could create technology like Bulma’s.. Why hadn’t his planet, 10 times the size of earth, and containing the strongest military after Frieza’s, been destroyed?

 There were other things that bothered him. The more he thought about it, the more his first encounter with Earth bothered him. They had sacrificed themselves. Anyone could see that he had a much higher ki level, yet the warriors had fought him. Three had died. They would all have if Kakarott hadn’t appeared. And the tail-less, third class soldier had defeated him. At that point, Vegeta still had had the higher energy level. But he’d been beaten. He’d come across those who refused to concede defeat before, but not like that. That was…unbelievable. He still had trouble understanding the man’s determination.

“Listen, Bulma, it’s not what you think! I didn’t intend to do anything, it just sorta got out of hand and….it didn’t mean anything!” Vegeta walked out of the gravity room to the sound of the weakling begging. Not a bad sound, Yamcha had obviously gotten caught. Leaning against the side of the building, the Saiyan decided to sit back and watch the human squirm, beg, and be rejected.

 “Of course not, Yamcha-kun,” Bulma said in a soothing voice, that had Vegeta scowling again. She wasn’t actually going to take him back, was she? “I’m sure it was just the heat of the moment. Of course you’d want to comfort her after she lost her boyfriend.”

 “Yeah, that’s it.” He sounded relieved, and a little unsure.

 “And then one thing led to another and you wound up in bed together, is that right?”

 “Ye-yeah…” Bulma had been slowly advancing, and now she was practically leaning on the human’s chest. She was going to take him back! What had happened to her pride? He tensed up, and got ready to walk away in disgust, if she started kissing the little bastard.

 “I’m sure it didn’t mean anything….” Bulma had raised her leg slightly. She brought her foot, clad in a heavy boot with an even heavier sole, down on his tennis shoe, with all her might. Yamcha yelled. In pain. Vegeta smiled, that had to hurt.

 “Listen you two-timing little asshole, I’m sick of putting up with you screwing anything in a skirt and then trying to tell me you love me! We’ve broken up before, but this time it’s for real. I want you out! Off the grounds and out of my life! I don’t care if a hundred beings as strong as Frieza attack Capsule Corp., I don’t want to see you here! Ever! Got that, you little fuck!

 “I’m tired of always wondering if you’ve done the same thing with another girl the night before, I’m tired of you trying to get me to have sex with you, and I’m fucking sick and tired of you lying to me! You mother-fucking asshole! Go away!” With that, she shoved the shell-shocked Yamcha away, and walked into Capsule Corp.

 “She cussed me out! I can’t believe she…” the rejected ex-boyfriend started to get up. Then he saw Vegeta, chuckling at him. Yamcha just glared as he walked away. Vegeta only laughed harder. That was good. Guess she doesn’t have to be able to fight to knock someone down. He’d never heard her curse like that before. He was actually glad it wasn’t at him. He preferred when their insults were a little less virulent.

 She’d be upset, after finding out her lover had betrayed her. Without knowing why, he went up to her window. It was unlocked, as warm as it was outside. He paused at the windowsill, then, hearing her slight sobbing, walked in.

 “Bulma?” She jerked upright, wiping at her face, and refusing to turn in his direction.

 “What! Go away, Vegeta.”

 Without even knowing why, he walked to her bed, where she sat. He kneeled down, and wrapped his arms around her. What was he doing? Why was he…comforting her? She’d handled herself fine, earlier. But she looked so sad, in pain; he couldn’t allow her to be in pain if he could help it.

 “You shouldn’t cry about him.”

 “What do you know? You don’t cry about anything!” He ignored that, not wanting to admit that he did, sometimes.

 “He’s not worth it. Are you going to let him hurt you, now, when there’s nothing you can do about it, and he’s not even here? All he’s ever done is play games with you, and you’re gonna cry over him. If you’re going to cry, cry over something that matters.” 

“But he does matter! I mean, not him, but what I thought I had with him.”

 “Well whatever it was, it obviously wasn’t good, so why are you sitting here bawling your eyes out over it?” She was calming, slightly, and it was easier to hear her through her hiccups.

 “Love is supposed to be good, I just can’t seem to find it.” He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just sat there, arms around her, functioning on some half-understood instinct that they hadn’t beaten out of him, that little bit of goodness left.

 She quieted, still breathing deep, but the tears had stopped. She was boneless, exhausted. She began to speak quietly, more to herself than to him, but he listened, searching for answers.

 “Love is supposed to be wonderful. It’s supposed to be when two people care about each other so much, their souls fuse and they live together forever, happy. It’s supposed to be exciting, sometimes, and peaceful, other times. Some say that you can fall in love at the first sight of your lover, others say it takes years. All agree it’s the strongest thing in the world. ‘Love conquers all,’ they say. Yeah, right. Problem is finding it. That’s what I was trying to do. It didn’t work.”

 “This whole planet seems like it’s trying to do that. Why? If it’s got such a high failure rate, why even try?”

 “Because it’s supposed to be worth it. It’s supposed to be so strong, so incredible, that it’s goes beyond death and through centuries forever and ever.” Sounded kind of like being the Super Saiyan, to him. In an emotion? Maybe that was what Goku was talking about. Was he in love with everyone?

 “So what’s all this about loving everyone, or whatever it was they talk about on TV?”

 “That’s a different kind of love. There’s lots of types.” Near sleep, her speech slurred and she was babbling. But she was helping. “There’s love between friends, like Goku and Krillen, like caring about them, and there’s love between family, like me and my dad, or siblings, which I’ve never had. There’s love of people, like being nice to everyone and thinking most people are good. Then there’s romantic love, between two people who care about each other and want to get married and are attracted to each other. That’s what I want. I just can’t find it.” So, this emotion, love, was what they were always talking about. That was what kept this planet alive, a weakling emotion. Maybe not so weak.

 Bulma was more asleep than awake, melted against him. Then she seemed to rouse, like she’d forgotten something important.

 “Vegeta? Don’t they have love on your planet?” He was surprised by the question. Had she seen, in her sleepy state, that this planet disturbed him?

 “No. If they did, it would be destroyed.”

 “So you never had anyone care about you when you were a kid? No one to hug you when you were hurt?”

 “If they tried, they’d die. I’d make sure of it.”

 “Why? There’s nothing wrong with admitting to pain.”

 “That sentiment is something unique to this planet. I’ve never encountered if before.”

 “I’m sorry.” Then, incredulous, he watched as she leaned over and squeezed him lightly, as if to make up for years without. He’d die before he admitted it, but it felt good. Nice. Scary. “You should have had someone there, to care about you.” She continued to hold him, the comforted becoming the comforter. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep. Vegeta still sat there, thinking about what she’d said, what she’d done. He lay her down, she looked beautiful there, and left. It wasn’t until he was in his room, knowing he’d get no sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking, that it hit him. For the first time in a long time, he’d spent an extended amount of time with Bulma, and not been painfully aroused. At first he’d been too worried, and then too moved, to desire her. But he knew that he would again, just not tonight.

 The visiting woman had finally left, Bulma and the others “seeing her off” earlier in the day. More human foolishness. He had informed them that he wouldn’t be there, and flew off to his island. Well, it wasn’t technically his, but no one else was there, so he claimed it. If there had been people there, he probably would have killed them. Sometimes even the gravity room didn’t offer privacy. But now he was hungry and the island had no large game, so he went back to Capsule Corp.

 Apparently, they’d all gone to sleep already, except whoever was in the shower. She, or he, had a weak ki, but they all had weak ki in this house. They made up for it by being surrounded by the strongest people on the planet. He stalked to the kitchen and raided the refrigerator. He was shocked to find a giant bowl of some kind of rice and chicken dish with a piece of masking tape bearing his name upon it. They’d went through the trouble of leaving food? Why? It obviously wasn’t in its original container. He examined the writing carefully. He had learned, long ago, that details were what could kill you. Miss a weakness, ignore a cracking branch, and it could be all over. He’d seen it happened. So he recognized the writing, he’d seen it before a few times, and that was enough. It was Bulma’s. But why would she do this? She hated him, right? Vegeta was confused. He didn’t like the feeling.

 He crept upstairs, not knowing why he was taking such care to be quiet, yet doing it just the same.

The bathroom door opened, just before he walked by it.

 Ye Gods, she had a body. A towel covered it, but, knowing that the drying cloth was probably the only thing she was wearing, it wasn’t very effective. Her sea-green hair - always such beautiful hair, regardless of what she did to it - was wet and riotous. The tangled strands, so unruly and wild, sent a jolt through his already-tense body. Sapphire eyes widened in surprise, flushed skin, mouth making a small circle of surprise. That mouth that had figured prominently in his recent dreams and had intruded upon his meditations. Long, slender neck, so fragile yet so arousing, smooth shoulders with droplets of water still clinging. He wanted to lick them off. Her chest curved into full, high breasts. He could only see the tops of them, but his Saiyan eyes, trained to kill, could detect what he was pretty sure were her nipples pressing against the cloth. He couldn’t see much else until he reached her legs, but he could imagine. As he had imagined. Bulma changed her hair color regularly, and re-colored before roots were detectable, so he couldn’t tell what color her womanhood would be. And her legs…she never hid her legs from the universe, and they made fantasies spin through his mind daily. Wrapped around his waist, or his shoulders, rubbing along his body…and then he always thought of that loser boyfriend of hers, and grit his teeth against the possibility they were doing those very things on the nights they stayed out so late.

 All of this flashed through his mind in a matter of seconds, but apparently that was too long, according to the expression on her face he’d been staring. Damn.

 “Ve-Vegeta?” she queried, softly. Usually when saying his name it was in anger, hate, or fear. He didn’t mind the anger, but for some reason he had an aversion to the other two, which he used to thrive on.

 He saw the awareness in her eyes. It stunned him. She wanted him. She wanted him. It was amazing, unexpected. Bonding. Her gaze dropped.

 “There’s food in the fridge,” she stammered, obviously disconcerted. Wanting an out. Hell no, was he going to give it to her. Her fate was sealed when she looked into his eyes with acknowledgement and mutual desire in hers.

 “I know.” He took a step toward her. She tensed, but didn’t move away. Another step. Finally, he caught her up in his arms, and looked at her expression, still wary, but when he’d wrapped his arms around her, her body had slumped. He leaned forward and kissed her neck, lightly, so he would not hurt her. His hands roamed her back. Suddenly, all the resistance still remaining in her eyes left. Vegeta forcibly pushed aside the urge to crush her to him and ravage her mouth. He kissed his way up her throat, to her ear, temple, eyes, forehead, nose, cheeks, even her chin. He skirted the side of her mouth, even though she had turned her head to capture his. Without warning, her hands shot into his hair and positioned his head for her lips. He stopped evading her and indulged, and she moved her fingers down to his shirt, removing it with a savagery that surprised him, it was so Saiyan. Her aggressive advances excited him, let him know that she wanted this, too. Somehow, that was important.

 They couldn’t finish this here. He stepped back, and the towel that had been held in place by his body fell. And he could only stare. Ye Gods! She was gorgeous. But if he looked at her much longer, they’d never make it out of the house, and damned if this was going to be interrupted by her parents. He gently picked her up and flew as fast as he thought she could handle for his island.

 He went to the place where the foliage was soft and thick - where he meditated. Before he lay her down and satisfied his aching need, there was something he had to be completely sure of.

 “Bulma.” 

“Hmmm?” She sounded dreamy and relaxed. Sensual.

 “You do want this, don’t you? If not, I’ll take you back.” She smiled softly and pressed herself against him, answer enough. He swiftly - all right, desperately - tore off his remaining clothes, then lowered her to the ground.

 This is torture! he thought. He wanted to plunge into her, now, but he also wanted to explore, to savor, make this better than Yamcha or anyone else ever could. But he couldn’t last in the state he was in. He pulled away, trying desperately to control himself, breathing deeply.

 “Vegeta? Come back, Vegeta,” she breathed. The Saiyan groaned; how could he deny her?

 He glided his hands along her body, caressing her. He couldn’t believe how strong the passion in him was. It had never been like this before. Especially when they’d barely begun. What was it about this frail little human, with more courage than she could back up, that turned him into a lustful, sentimental fool? Whatever it was, it was stronger than he.

 His mouth devouring hers, he slid his palms down to those sexy, curvaceous breasts of hers with their pale-pink nipples. Flicking his roughened fingers across them, he kissed the top of her shoulder fervently. And bared his teeth.

 Just then, a particularly loud moan of pleasure erupted from Bulma’s throat. Reality reasserted itself for a moment. He’d almost bitten her! He’d almost declared himself one of the mated, those weak, pitied fools who joined their souls with another. What had he been thinking!?

 Obviously, he hadn’t been thinking. He took a deep breath and moved his hands circuitously down her stomach, through the hair. The side of his mouth quirked up. Lavender. Now he knew. He also knew he was going to have a fetish for lavender mons for the rest of his life. Vegeta continued to the top of her slit, moving his fingers along it. He found the nub, and began to work at it, using her own gushing moisture to heighten the experience. He flicked quickly, her body jerking with every rapid pass, the moans continuous. His other hand left her back and slid down her firmly rounded nether cheeks. Vegeta plunged two fingers deep within, then drew back in shock, floating centimeters above her. She was a virgin. His brazen, bold Bulma had never slept with anyone before. He hadn’t expected this.

Why was she giving her virginity to him? Maybe it didn’t matter on this planet. On Vejiitasei, the loss of virginity was taken care of with someone who was specially trained to do so. Maybe that wasn’t the case here. But he’d never been trained to do that, there had never been a reason. Now he was going to have to cause her pain. Kuso!

 He couldn’t stop now. Maybe someone less selfish and passionate could, but not he. They only thing he could do was make sure she was ready when the time came. He began the leisurely course down her body again, but with his mouth. Slowly. If he was going to be roasted alive, he might as well savor the experience. Down to her breasts, kissing, flicking, rolling with fingers and tongue, until her head was thrashing--he smiled smugly at that, proud of himself--and the rather loud, erotic noises erupting from her throat. He journeyed down her belly, purposely ignoring, or trying to ignore, her thrusting hips.

 He kissed her navel, swirled his tongue about the rim, finally dipping in. She arched her hips more violently, and he moved down. He spread her white, silken thighs farther apart, and blew gently on the swollen flesh. Lightly kissing the sides of those thighs, he breathed deeply of the scent. Scent was important to Saiyans; his senses were far keener than those of a human. She smelled like woman, like only one woman. Bulma. He didn't have much sexual experience, he was too busy training for that, but never before had he taken such care. He didn't know why he was now, but at this point he didn't care. He kissed the outer lips, not yet utilizing his tongue. As her cries grew more frantic, he grew more daring, finally plunging his tongue in to taste. Mmmmm. Good. She tasted very good. He suckled the lips, drank the juices. Devoured her, like she was the only sustenance he'd had in years. He explored, flicking around the sensitive, swollen ember, dipping in as far as he could with that part of his body, mimicking what his lower body wanted, needed to do, in rhythm with her rising and falling womanhood.

 He inhaled sharply. She had grabbed the hardest part of his rock-hard body, and was rubbing her hand along it. He drew on his strength to keep from pushing her down and slaking his lust immediately. He couldn't believe it! He, who had been mocked for almost never taking time for sex when he was among Frieza's soldiers, was having to power up to keep his lust in check. Ye gods! Vegeta pulled on the energy, but what she was doing, it was so good it was painful, and he didn't think he'd survive if he didn't do something to make her stop.

 It briefly dawned on him that this was why he'd spent his life learning to control his power, so he could do this, with her, but the thought lasted but an instant and was quickly forgotten.

 He pulled her hand away, as gently as his shaking hands would let him. He took a few moments to get himself back in control, and continued where he left off. He'd never done this before, never saw the point, but apparently his instincts were correct, for she had dug those slender hands in his hair, clutching his head, and pulled forward. It was obvious by the tension in her body that she was close. He pulled away, making them calm slightly, kissing her face again.

 He drew on his ki, using it for control, and began again. His mind had shut out everything but their bodies. She was so hot, tight, liquid. He wouldn’t have been able to stop loving her if he tried.

 Just before they reached the pinnacle, he halted. Again. His battle-honed, Saiyan eyes took in how she looked in passion, her head thrown backwards, hair cascading down like a silken waterfall, tangled and damp. Skin flushed, pert young breasts up thrust.

 “Vegeta,” she breathed, wanting him to continue. He smirked, as well as he could under the circumstances. He’d continue, all right, but if she thought he was going to let her off easy, with only a couple hours before release, and only one release, she was greatly mistaken. He would let this build for another half hour or so, before letting her go. He’d restrain himself, somehow. He wanted to be able to remember her release, and he couldn’t do that if he was caught in the throes of his own. He’d let her rest for about ten minutes, and calm himself, before beginning again.

 He fed his power into his control and resumed the ancient motions. He was doing well, he told himself, holding off his climax so long with her in his arms. And then she passed a nail lightly over the small circle from which his tail had once grown.

 “Aahhhh!” he screamed. He stopped thrusting, although she didn’t, and just stayed there, shuddering uncontrollably, madly converting ki into a semblance of control.

 She smirked at him, the little nymph, and did it again, then used her fingers and nails, circling, massaging. He felt himself stiffen, his body prepared for climax, and he put every ounce of his ki into his control.

 And then, he felt it happen. He climaxed, followed immediately by Bulma, but as he shuddered, energy such as he’d never experienced before raced through his blood. His eyes, enhanced by power, took in Bulma in her ecstasy, his own so strong he didn’t think he would survive it, and felt the power of his release more than that of his new status as a Super Saiyan.

 And then, it was finally over. His muscles gave out, and he dropped, unable to move any part of his body an inch. He slipped out of the Super Saiyan state, knew his hair was black again, as were his eyes.

 And then he fell into an equally dark hole, and didn’t emerge until long after the sun was rising. Then he clumsily carried them back to Bulma’s room.

 __________________________________________________________________

 Groaning, Vegeta forced his body to move, to roll onto his back. What had happened? Had he and Kakarott finally have the final battle? He could barely force his eyes open. But what he saw opened them the rest of the way.

 This wasn’t his room. It was Bulma’s. And he was in it, on the bed, naked, with her scent all over him. That and the lingering scent of fierce mating. It all came back. He’d come to the house, sweaty and dirty, and had found that Bulma had left him some food. Then he’d seduced her, and in the process he’d not only had the most powerful climax of his life, but also reached his lifetime goal of Super Saiyan.

 And at the time, he hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about anything other than Bulma and himself and the pleasure. He’d had all that power, and he’d just used it to intensify the sensations, to feed his self-control so that he wouldn’t be cheated of what would probably be the only night she allowed him. And to see her in her explosion. He’d carved it on his brain; it was in front of his eyes. 

He shoved it away.

 He’d been a Super Saiyan! After all those years, he’d finally done it. And he’d been apathetic. He’d been so caught up in his mate, his Bulma, that he’d forgotten himself and his power.

 She was dangerous. If she could make him do that in one night, what would she do to him if he allowed her to see that side of him again. It had come out last night, she’d forced it out, and this was the result.

 He was mated. He felt the connection deep in his mind. He’d become one of the scorned Saiyans who mated with another, who’d bonded to their lover. Only the lowest of soldiers mated, but now he, King of the Saiyan Empire, was among their small numbers. 

“Shit!”

 Now she had control over him, could make his life even worse than it was now. She could reject him, reduce him to a pitiable wretch, decimate his pride, destroy him as a warrior, whatever she wanted. Unless he was very lucky, the world had a new way to make him pay for past transgressions. Oh, fuck!

 And then calm reasserted itself over his panic. She didn’t know that. He’d spent enough time on this planet to know that they thought you had to go through some kind of ceremony and sign a paper to be mated. She didn’t have to know the power she could wield.

 He just had to hide it from her. He’d say whatever he had to if it would make her think he wasn’t bonded to her. He’d mastered the art of insult by the time he was four, he could do this.

 And, he vowed, he would.