Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was all Kakarot’s fault. As most things usual were. He should have never even had this job in the first place.

Vegeta growled deep in his throat as flash bulbs burst around him. Confetti of a thousand burning stars littered the pavement and his shined black shoes. His knuckles twitched at his side as he longed to shatter something with his fist. A raucous clatter of voices overlapped over one another as everyone shouted at once.

“Ms. Briefs, smile for the camera!”

“Over here, Ms. Briefs!”

“What designer are you wearing?”

“Is it really over between you and your betrothed?”

“Ms. Briefs are you single?”

“Is there another man in your life?”

She smiled, brightly, tossing her famous blue locks behind her neck with the flick of her wrist.

“Aw, c’mon boys. When are you going to remember to call me Doctor Briefs?” She grinned in a playful way, her tone light and airy. But Vegeta knew better. After being a few steps behind her for nearly a year, he knew the slight deviations in her expression that the paparazzi didn’t. He could see the solitary crack in the crystal, barely keeping it in one piece. A delicate hand holding the glass together, one wrong movement and it would be a mess. She smoothed it out, the way she pressed out her indecently tight pencil skirts when a wrinkle appeared. As if noticing that the real version of her was peeking behind the curtain, a little too visibly. Nobody ever wanted to meet the wizard behind, to see a mortal instead of a deity. And the deity in question was easily the most famous woman in the world.

The starlet heiress of Capsule Corporation Industries, Bulma Briefs, had been blinded by the lights of cameras since childhood. Walking in the shadows and just a beat behind her genius, Noble Prize-winning father, Dr. Briefs. He had single handedly held the economy together, supplying the war effort with hundreds and thousands of jobs in engineering and production of the medical and technological advances he had developed. He, in turn, had become richer than kings and emperors across the world. Some of the headlines Bulma had seen in the newspapers and magazines claimed that he had more money than God. And while growing up that way had its very many perks, it had also created a sharper and more jaded adult version of the bright eyed, curious little girl.

It had also created a few close calls in terms of her safety as she had matured into one of the most lusted after women in the world. It was easy at first, Dr. Briefs had employed the services of Protective Technical Operations, sending bodyguards to watch over the entire Briefs family, but no one had required more protection than the heiress herself. Bulma, a brilliant scientist in her own right, followed in her father’s footsteps in her pursuit of science and technology, but also had a fiercely rebellious streak that had her making her own way in the world and on her own terms.

Agent Goku was assigned as her bodyguard when she was a teenager and had become like another member of the Briefs family. That was until he decided to marry his high school sweetheart and retire from the business. Vegeta had all but begged to not have to be his replacement. Raditz had begged for the opposite. ‘I’d give my left nut just to be able to look at those tits every day.’ Vegeta grimaced thinking about how crude Raditz’s language was sometimes. And well, that was probably why Frieza decided to fuck both of them over. Vegeta had been perfectly content with taking random assignments. He enjoyed the unpredictability of his days, getting a slight adrenaline rush of never knowing what to expect. Always on his feet, feeling productive. He’d done a few security assignments for the President, even.

And now he was destined to be an old watch dog, put out to pasture. Standing in doorways, leaning against walls. Disappearing into the background of a thousand photographs. Silently sitting and glaring out the windshield of the mint colored 59’ Corvette, feeling very much like a chaperone or a chauffeur instead of a dignified bodyguard. He had become a silent chameleon, so good at blending into the surroundings that he could simply disappear. It meant he was good at his job, that he was completing the assignment the way he was supposed to, and keeping Bulma Briefs safe was all he needed to do.

He certainly wouldn’t allow his eyes to linger on her any longer than necessary. And he would absolutely not wake up, twisted underneath of the bedsheets, his cock rock hard at just the ghost of her haunting his dreams. Or worse yet, glowering at the dark ceiling unable to find any version of sleep or rest from the woman that tortured him.

It had been easier in the beginning. When she was chained to that useless, spineless man who didn’t deserve her. Sure, she was still flirtatious and her usual insufferable and vulgar self, but she was like that with everyone. He was certain Bulma Briefs could manage to make a brick wall blush. But then she broke it off, secretly and out of the public eye for several months before she finally sported her bare finger. Engagement ring that she had purchased herself, launched at her former betrothed’s head when they splintered apart.

And unfortunately, Vegeta got to know her better and realized that there was more than meets the eye than a pretty face, plastered across newspapers and magazines everywhere out on the town. A dangerous combination of confident and sultry. Enough to make him dizzy when she would annihilate him verbally if he got snippy with her.

Then the flirting got worse. So, so much worse. As though she had zeroed in on breaking Vegeta as another task on her long to-do list.

A flash, the siren red of her thick lips, hovering near his ear. “Are you always this wound up?” A purr, beckoning the captain to wreck his ship into the jagged rocks of the shore.

He rattled his head, hoping to knock some sense into himself. He didn’t succeed as she turned away from one of the flashbulbs striking her profile like lightning. Her blue eyes painted with a thick, hooded black line, hooked onto him. A sparkle, that fucking twinkle. She blew a kiss at him, and he nearly disintegrated on the spot when the flashbulbs turned onto him. She knew precisely what she was doing, and her smile brightened before she turned around and entered the pink, opulent hotel entrance.

“What the hell was that?” Vegeta demanded once the sound of the crowd was silenced by the door slamming shut behind them.

“What?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” he growled, and that only seemed to make the dazzle in her blue eyes burn hotter. This was the first time that she had acknowledged him in such a way in public, in front of so many cameras. The flirting with him intentional and not just her usual natural instinct of being a menace.

She walked over to him, until her perfectly manicured hand rested on the lapel of his suit jacket. He sputtered trying to back away from her until his spine met a wall.

“Why, Vegeta. Are you…” she released her breath through her nostrils, making a little husky sigh and lifting up her chest deliberately. “…flustered?”

The door swung open, and Vegeta slipped out of her red talons, finding his position standing against the wall. The perfect toy soldier, nearly in salute formation.

“Doctor Briefs, we have your itinerary for this weekend available.” Bulma’s assistant, a tall, lanky white whisp of a man, Whis, handed her a folder with a few papers in it.

“And don’t worry, Vegeta, I’ve already used a typewriter to type out your Next-Great-American-Novel worthy security debriefing for the International Tech Expo,” he teased with a knowing glint in his eye.

Vegeta grumbled before he yanked the paper out of Whis’ hand and did a quick scan. He handled many events like this over the last year. The event itself wasn’t what concerned him. It was wherever Bulma decided to flee to afterwards that worried him. The more he furrowed his brow at her in unamused curiosity, the more she would desperately want to make a hasty, reckless decision. It was as though she enjoyed making his job absolute hell.

“Fine. Where are you planning on gallivanting to afterwards?” Vegeta grunted, not letting his eyes leave the paper as he directed his question to Bulma.

“Hmmm,” she touched her finger to her chin in a mocking manner. “Haven’t decided yet. It’s more fun for it to be a surprise.”

She winked before waltzing out of the foyer to the entrance of hotel, allowing Whis to head towards the lobby desk to check in for them. In a few moments, Vegeta found himself staring at his own reflection into the wall of an elevator. Images of Bulma duplicated and bore into him. All five of her, licked her lips and tucked a loose strand of blue behind her ear before the doors clambered open with a ding.

Whis went on his way to check into his room, while Vegeta inspected Bulma’s room before he officially cleared it for her to enter.

“I’ll be ready by five,” she said, her hand grasping the door’s edge as he narrowly escaped.

“Fine,” he muttered under his breath as he turned the key into the doorknob adjacent to the one she pressed her back against.

He slammed the door shut behind himself, leaning against it and releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

~*~

She was a marvel to watch in action. It pissed him off even more. Realizing that she wasn’t just a beautiful, spoiled brat. She was brilliant, capable, fiercely independent and also charming as all hell. A true force to be reckoned with. When she was in action, it was like watching a dedicated choreographed dance sequence. The way she explained concepts, demonstrated prototypes all while captivating an entire room of old stuck-up assholes who couldn’t believe their ears or eyes.

At the International Expo, she really commanded an entire banquet of men that she was far more capable than. Not a single one of them referred to her as Doctor Briefs and the idea itself boiled his blood. She accepted the accolades and awards on behalf of her father, even though they both knew that she was the one who had knocked the most recent project out of the park. She wouldn’t get the due credit even though her father sung her praises and gave her full credit. It was all rather ridiculous.

She sat in the passenger seat beside him, deep in thought, the dark city sky flickering past her and painting her face in various shades of purple and blue.

“Where are we going?” He asked as one hand gripped the steering wheel and the other held the clutch of the mint-colored Corvette.

“To this lounge up ahead, make a right over there.” She had changed into the most revealing outfit he had seen her in yet after the Expo. A glittering shimmer of white diamond strings on top of pale fabric, t-strap silvered heels coming to a point from her exposed pale thighs. She had long tear drop diamonds hanging from her ears, beckoning whoever had eyeballs to look her way.

He kept his eyes trained ahead, expertly. He was not going to let her win this game. She would go to the lounge, toss back a few martinis, grab a fly to spin in her web for the evening and then go home. He could get through this. He only had a few more weeks until his year was up. Then he could ask Frieza for his promotion, and be done with this living hell he was in.

When they arrived, Bulma walked to the front of a line that was standing outside of the doors, a velvet rope lining up the pavement. Vegeta was only a footstep behind her, his eyes scanning the location quickly, assessing any potential threats. The crowd in line was gasping and pointing and buzzing loudly about seeing Bulma Briefs in person. She did a polite wave and smile before the bouncer opened the door, letting both of them in.

The doors shut behind them and Vegeta was hit with a wall of sound and smoke. Voices talking over one another and competing with the sound of live music playing in the distance. Through the haze of cigarette and cigar smoke, he could spot a kidney shaped bar decorated with amber lights and mirrors reflecting the overpriced liquor bottles. The carpet was a violent pattern of color and shapes contrasted against the maroon paneled walls. There was a dance floor in front of the band and Bulma lifted up her arms and began dancing.

Whis approached the pair, handing Bulma a dirty martini with extra olives hanging from the edge of the glass. They did a cheers with their drinks before they each sipped from it and made pleased sounds.

Vegeta rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest and continued to scan the lounge for anything fishy going on. Unfortunately his eyes came upon a very familiar, gargantuan figure.

“Vegeta!” The voice of Raditz bellowed before he shoved past a few people to jog over to the group.

“Wow, I didn’t think you were capable of making friends,” Bulma joked, nudging Vegeta with her elbow.

“He’s a colleague, he’s not my friend,” Vegeta snapped, feeling his suit breast pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

“Hi, friend!” Raditz grinned and Bulma laughed. “And must I say, Doctor Briefs, you are even more stunning in person. I kept asking my little brother to meet you when he was your bodyguard but alas the timing never happened.”

“Oh, you’re Goku’s brother, Raditz!” Bulma cried in delight. “I’ve heard a lot about you!”

“The one and only,” Raditz said with a satisfied smile and Vegeta felt his blood pressure rising upon this interaction. “I’m here on a security briefing for the Gero twins,” Raditz said, nodding his head back towards a u-shaped booth draped in red leather. A man and woman with matching blue eyes, one brunette and the other blonde sat chatting and smoking, looking bored. 

“Oh, I didn’t know they were here, too. Though I did see Doctor Gero at the expo,” Bulma said. The Gero twins, Lapis and Lazuli, often helped their father with his prototype demonstrations and press releases but they weren’t as deep into the scientific community the way that Bulma was. She had met them on a few occasions and found them to be far more interesting than their father who annoyed the living daylights out of her.

“I didn’t realize you all would be here either, what a wonderful coincidence,” Raditz said, looking at Vegeta and Bulma and then Whis as well. Whis introduced himself before the group found their VIP table.

~*~

Bulma watched Vegeta, carefully, as Raditz tilted his head back and let out a loud, booming laugh. She didn’t think it was possible for him to look any more miserable and she actually almost felt bad for him. He was wildly uncomfortable around a lot of people, and was quite good at blending into the background and going undetected. But in this scenario he wasn’t able to just fade away because Raditz kept trying to talk to him and bring up stories from their past. Lapis and Lazuli were on the dance floor, chain-smoking Marlboro out of business, and Whis had gone off to fetch more drinks. 

With the band getting to a slower tempo and the martini filling her veins with a brazen and stupid confidence Bulma sat up a little taller in her seat. “I want to go dance,” she announced, interrupting whatever it was that Raditz was laughing about. 

“So? Do you need a welcoming committee on the dance floor?” Vegeta snapped.

Her blue eyes narrowed into rising flames as she sucked on her teeth.

“You know, it’s rude to let a woman go and dance on her own!”

”You are drunker than I thought if you think I’m stepping a single foot on that dance floor,” Vegeta gritted in embarrassment.

“Well, then if you won’t dance with me, I’ll fucking find someone who will.” The threat was quiet, not quite as menacing as she intended it to be. A melting iron sizzling into a cool water.

She waltzed over to Raditz, practically yanking him by his tie and pulling him out of the booth and onto the dance floor. It was an amusing sight, the gigantic man being led like an oversized dog on a chain, his tail practically wagging between him.

Vegeta eyed her across the smokey lounge, taking an exceptionally long drag of his cigarette. Her hands were cupped at the nape of Raditz’s gargantuan neck, playing with the tendrils of his wild, black hair slicked back. His mitt hands were grasped at her small waist, a giant grin across his face as they spoke incoherently below the band playing in the background. He pressed the smoke out of his lungs, hating her, hating Raditz, hating himself most of all.

Raditz waved, he actually fucking waved at Vegeta with a big goofy smile. He didn’t think he could hate Raditz more than Kakarot, but that all changed as he watched his hands on her. On his—

He froze, nearly choking on the smoke that still lingered in his breath. He grabbed an errant martini on the table and emptied it down his throat. The smoothness of the expensive top shelf poison surprised him before the kickback caused him to cough.

The dancing rotated the couple and he was no longer staring at the back of her head but instead seeing her eyes and the way they lit up as her and Raditz talked as they danced. The sparkle in her eye as she looked at Raditz, twisted into his spine like a dagger. That was until her eyes left Raditz only to search for him, as though she had misplaced something critically important and suddenly remembered to look for it again.

When she spotted Vegeta, relief overwhelmed her face before a self-satisfied smirk replaced it. She blew him a kiss as he nearly growled in his throat at the sight of her. She snapped her finger signaling over a waiter who had another martini ready for her. Vegeta had lost count of the drinks she had for the night and his anger was replaced with concern.

Not that it was any of his business how much she drank, she was a grown woman. But it was, all at once. His job was to keep Bulma Briefs safe from any potential threats. What the security debriefing didn’t formally entail was keeping Bulma Briefs safe from herself. Her most formidable foe.

She parted from Raditz temporarily before drinking the entire drink in exactly one dignified gulp. Her eyes didn’t break from Vegeta’s for a single blink. She grabbed the string of green olives before licking them and pushing them between her devilish, red lips. Raditz whispered something into her ear, and she giggled, before breaking the stare with Vegeta.

He almost left. Almost flipped the table over and stormed away. Before he remembered, once again, that his job was not to shove his face between her legs and lick her cunt until she begged for him to stop. It was to keep her brilliant yet stupid self safe. And not hate every single other person who dared to be yanked into her orbit.

He snapped his fingers at the same waiter for another drink, this time asking for a whiskey instead of the poison that Bulma drank. He feared for her liver almost as much as he feared for her disintegrating inhibitions as she felt Raditz’s bicep straining against his suit jacket and made impressed sounds.

He hadn’t even noticed that Whis had come back to their table, swirling his own drink before taking a long sip behind a knowing smile.

“I know you won’t listen to any advice I give you, but I’m going to give it to you, anyway.”

Vegeta took his eyes off of the spectacle before him and locked them with Whis’ violet eyes.

“She won’t wait forever, and she certainly won’t be available forever. She deserves to have someone who will fight for her. So instead of sulking and brooding in the corner maybe do something about it,” Whis mused before he finished his drink and stood from the table.

“I will see you all tomorrow at the luncheon.” Whis nodded before smoothing out his plum suit and strolling away.

Vegeta stood from the table and began to approach the two, Bulma’s face lit up as she watched him walking. He hadn’t actually decided what he was going to do. Punch Raditz in the face? Grab Bulma and dance with her? Put in his two week’s notice? Before he could make his final decision, Lapis managed to make it over to the dancing pair before Vegeta could. He said something to Raditz behind gritted teeth, looking rather unamused by everything. Raditz nodded before grabbing Bulma’s hand and giving it a kiss and wink.

“I gotta run, Vegeta. It was nice to see you! We gotta catch up sometime when we’re not on the clock!” Raditz said before chasing after Lapis and Lazuli who gave a wave to Bulma before departing from the lounge.

Vegeta stood there, staring at Bulma with an expression more unreadable than ever.

///

Bulma grabbed Raditz by his hand and dragged him onto the dance floor, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction at the crestfallen look on Vegeta’s face. It served him right for being such a jerk! Raditz towered over her, unlike Vegeta but as she felt his warm hands on her waist, she couldn’t help but wish they were Vegeta’s instead.

”You know, he really likes you,” Raditz said with a wide smile.

”Well he sure has a funny way of showing it,” Bulma grumbled in annoyance. 

“I mean, have you met Vegeta? That’s just his face.”

They both giggled especially Raditz who was looking right at him. He gave him a big wave and smiled even more. Her hands touched the edges of his black hair at the nape of his neck and again, it felt wrong and she felt her annoyance grow at her disappointment to be near someone who wasn’t Vegeta.

“He’s too stubborn and too much of an idiot to do anything about it, but I’d say he’s smitten with you. Don’t tell him I said that or else he will have me shot.”

Bulma looked at Vegeta as Raditz and her turned to the slow music and she was able to see the look on his face. Her heart skipped and beat tumultuously in her chest at the anger and anguish he seemed to be in before Whis sat down beside him.

She blew Vegeta a kiss, wanting to make him squirm a bit more.

”So do you have anyone special in your life either? Gonna settle down like Goku any time soon?” Bulma asked as she looked up at him, noticing how similar his face was to his brother and her childhood friend. 

Raditz’s eyes flashed something painful and joyous all at once. “You could say that. But I don’t think settling down is the in cards for me, doll.” 

Bulma nodded in understanding. She sometimes wondered that too. It was why she had broken it off with Yamcha. It just never felt right. Just the thing that society expected of her. Another thing that she was supposed to do but didn’t actually want to. But as she locked eyes with the fiery black of Vegeta’s she wondered if that had changed now. She snapped at a waiter for another drink before emptying it in one gulp, not wanting her mind to wander to such places.

“Well, anyway. I’ve also been doing some boxing for fun. Almost strong enough to kick little Kakarot’s ass!” Raditz bragged, decidedly changing the subject. 

Bulma felt his bicep and oohed and ahh-ed with an impressed look on her face. 

Lapis approached the pair, looking furious and before Bulma could even know what was happening she noticed Vegeta standing only a few feet away, his promise of not stepping a single foot on the dance floor broken as he gazed at her with uncertainty. Raditz kissed her hand before leaving and she turned to fully face Vegeta now. 

“Time to go,” Bulma decided as she tossed her blue locks behind her shoulder.

~*~

The ride back to the pink hotel was silent, save for the radio that Vegeta had punched on to ease the suffocating feeling overwhelming him. When they got to the hotel, Bulma immediately got out of the car and began walking around the front entrance to the pathway leading behind the hotel. Vegeta groaned as his walk turned into a jog to keep up with her stomping in her high heels.

Bulma was now several inches taller than him as he caught up and stood beside her. She gazed at the in-ground pool glowing with lights. She waltzed over to a lounge chair and carefully took off her t-strap sparkling heels. She stood from the chair barefoot, her hair mussed around her head from dancing and moving about, her red lips still painted and somehow not even slightly smudged. Vegeta imagined his thumb against them, and then his lips, painting her lipstick all over her pale skin, taking one of her nipples between his teeth.

His tumbling thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of water splashing, as Bulma did a running dive into the pool.

She stayed under the water, opening her eyes and allowing the blurry dreamlike world to flood her vision. The water was dark, save for a few globs of light from the outdoor deck light from the hotel that flittered around her like stars. She felt the curls in her hair loosening and falling down all around her. To Bulma, it only seemed like a few seconds. But to Vegeta, gaping at the dark water below his feet, it felt like an eternity.

“God, damn you. Reckless, absurd woman,” Vegeta shouted before taking his gun off of the holster and putting it on a poolside chair. He dove in with fervor and grace, colliding with the water’s edge and immediately grabbed her by her arms.

Bulma was plucked through the water, feeling the harsh discrepancy from gravity against her loose limbs as they both sputtered to breathe in the cool night air.

“What the hell was that?” Vegeta asked, his voice with a jagged sharpness to it.

“I felt like going for a swim,” Bulma snapped back, smoothing back her now dark blue hair away from her face.

“In the middle of the night after having Lord only knows how many martinis. Aren’t you supposed to be the smartest woman in the world?”

“I am, thank you very much. I can handle swimming; I’m not an infant!”

He glared at her before turning away creating ripples in the water between them. “Then perhaps stop fucking acting like one!”

“God, loosen up!” She snorted as he made long sweeping strokes of his arms before reaching the end of the pool. She leaned backwards feeling the effects of the lack of gravity and crumbling inhibitions from drinking. The tendrils of blue stuck to her neck as her dress twirled around her like glittering brushstrokes tossed across a black paper. Vegeta leaned forward on the palms of his hands, gripping the cement before he yanked himself out of the pool. His suit jacket was slicked in water as he tossed it onto a nearby lounge chair with a wet thud.

Her eyes raked up the length of his body as she noticed the way the white dress shirt clung to his chest and abdomen and arms. Fuck. His arms that nearly bursted at the seams of his tightly tailored broad shoulders. He unbuttoned quickly and tossed the white shirt off with another wet slapping sound. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull as she could see every mark and curve and sinewy line of him. In particular, the faded, sketchy lines of scars. As though an artist had sketched him out first and forgot to erase all of their lines before going back in with a darker more intentional outline. Her eyes drifted down to his pants, and they were not leaving anything to her imagination, either. She couldn’t help herself as she licked her lips.

She swam forward, finding the stairs that Vegeta had stubbornly ignored in his haste and slowly, carefully, walked out of the pool, smoothing out the water that drenched her entire outfit and highlighted every single curve about her. Vegeta turned away, immediately, a blush stinging his cheeks and burning away the cool air that had also hardened her nipples. She let out a breathy giggle before she approached him, well, the back of him.

“It’s not a fucking joke… jumping into a pool when you’re clearly drunk.” His tone had so much bite to it, that if she hadn’t had so many martinis, she might have felt bad. But instead, she got annoyed.

“Last time I checked, it’s your job to make sure nobody hurts me. Not to stop me from having a little harmless fun.”

He spun around, fury twisted up into his brows, and his black eyes burned into her. Her lips parted when she realized how close he was. “I’m done with your little mind games,” he growled, pointing a finger at her, but his eyes, had different plans. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried, they fell from her face to her breasts that might as well have not had anything on them at all. Sparkles and sequins turned to glass with the pale fabric below it saturated and left hardly anything to his imagination. His eyes followed the path of a few drops of water rolling down her throat and stopping at the neckline of her indecent, glittering dress.

“Are you though? Or are you just scared you’re going to lose?”

Their lips were a cool breeze away from touching and Bulma’s heart clawed its way to her throat at such a thought.

Vegeta growled deep in his chest before grabbing his gun, jacket and shirt off the lounge chair and storming away.

~*~

Vegeta kicked off his wet shoes and peeled off the soaking wet socks below them. The rest of his clothing and accessories followed closely behind onto the nearby hotel room chair. He could hear Bulma’s bedroom door slam shut through the shared wall and sighed in relief. Regardless of how fucking irritated he was with her, he couldn’t help the professional side of him that needed to be certain she was safe.

He released the tension in his body that he hadn’t realized was tense in the first place, grumbling to himself as he stomped into the bathroom. He yanked the shower curtain back in haste and before he knew it, his body was underneath the steaming hot water. The water trickled down his face, yanked his pointed hair down to fall behind his neck and onto his forehead all at once.

He wiped his face, scrubbing it furiously, hoping to scratch away any trace of her. Any trace of the innate fucking desire he had for her, re-written into his DNA. But instead, he could hear her shower also turn on through the shared wall. His hostile thoughts about her immediately turned to ash, morphing his over-active mind’s eye into the visual of her standing under the shower, naked, with only a few inches of tile separating them.

He felt the familiar coil and heat that tugged at him between his thighs. The lust for her far stronger than his current disdain for her childish behavior.

It wouldn’t be the first time he saw her in his mind when he released. In fact, it seemed that she was the only fucking face he could picture as he screwed his eyes shut and spilled himself into his grasping hand. Moaning like a teenage boy in heat.

His hand drifted down, and he openly judged himself, hating this chokehold she had him in. But certainly not hating it enough to compose himself and stop his hand from grasping at the shaft of his cock.

He could hear her voice, a soft murmur. She was singing something, or humming, her voice muffled by the tile and the sounds of water colliding with bright blue porcelain. But the sound of her voice could be imagined as a moan, or a humming around his painful length. As he stroked himself up and down, he imagined her before him, sitting on the tub’s edge of the shower, her legs spread apart her fingers working against herself. The water rolling down the swell of her perfect breasts.

The singing became louder, and his hand moved faster. She was between his legs now, on her knees looking up at him and biting her lip in that way that made him want to evaporate. Her lips on him, his hand clenched against the tile, bracing his body as his other hand twisted and grasped.

Before long, his hand punched against the tile, clawing at it, blaming it somehow for all of the problems that came with this job and this woman. She smiled up at him, licking down his length as her mouth made a popping sound. Her tongue darted out making sure to taste every drop of him before humming in approval.

He blinked as his release splattered onto the drain and his breath began to even itself out, once again. Clarity nearly strangled him as he turned the shower knob all the way to cold, punishing himself for entertaining such thoughts.

He was a fucking mess.

~*~

The knock at her door the next day woke Bulma from a blinding dead sleep. She was still slightly drunk from the night before, thankfully, and downed 2 glasses of water from the bathroom sink with some aspirin before she threw on her robe, barely even closing it.

Vegeta stood on the other side of the door that she flung open, about to curse out whoever dared to interrupt her beauty sleep.

“The luncheon is in an hour,” his gruff voice sounded huffier than usual. He stood in his iron pressed royal blue suit, his scowl deep and his face just as handsome as ever. “I know it takes you three lifetimes to get ready and didn’t hear you making a mess of your room or singing off key.”

Bulma’s irritation melted away as she realized he was checking in on her because he was worried. She also realized that it was the door that was between their rooms, so of course it would be Vegeta who was knocking. Her head still felt light from last night’s martinis, she reasoned with herself.

“That was surprisingly thoughtful of you,” she said with a smile, approaching him.

“Don’t get your head twisted about this. I’m just simply making sure we get to where we need to, on time, or I’ll never hear the end of it from Whis. Who is heaven only knows where right now.”

“You’re just a big ol’ softie deep down, you know,” Bulma teased. “When you’re not putting up this front of being a total jerk, you’re actually pretty cute.”

Vegeta stepped back, glowering at her and pretending there wasn’t a blush staining his face in guilt. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know more than you think.”

He stared at her, his frown lifting ever so slightly as she approached him, again, her catlike strut barely covered behind her flowing cream-colored, silk robe.

“I could hear you during my shower last night,” her lips turned into a coy smirk. “I know you could hear me, too. I was thinking about what you could do to me with those strong hands of yours. How you could break me, if I asked you to.”

Vegeta’s lips parted, his mouth hanging open.

“You just want what you can’t have,” her lips danced at his throat. A ghost, an illusion of a fantasy somehow now a very real, tangible thing in front of him. “I know because we’re not so different.”

“Except that I like to indulge. And you like to punish yourself for being human instead of indulging in a single thing that you actually want. And that’s where our problem lies.”

She wasn’t wrong and he wished that he had any blood flow left to go to his brain where it was desperately needed instead of to his cock where he wished it was not.

“Aren’t you tired of always playing by the rules?” Bulma wondered. She grabbed his hands and placed them at her waist, and he made a sound in his throat that pressed against her clit, circled it, and pressed again. Her hands moved up to the collar of his button down, tracing the edge of her red nail against his Adam’s apple.

“What do you think would happen if you got what you actually wanted?”

She stepped back from him, opened up her robe and let it drop to the floor. She stood before him in just a smile and nothing else. The shuddering exhale he made, the silent epiphany he declared, was enough for them both to set their world on fire. Torching the Earth as they crashed their lips against one another and his hands cupped her face, slamming the door leading to his room shut.

Chapter Text

It was a dream. He decided it had to be. It was not any different from the dreams that haunted him consistently for the last year. On more occasions than he would ever possibly admit to himself.

Except there was one problem. It was certainly not a dream; it was very real and very really happening to him. It was also far better than any stupid dream he could ever possibly have in comparison to actually having Bulma Briefs naked in his arms and pressing her tongue against his.

It happened unreasonably fast, too fast for him to be able to make the smart decision and stop this from happening. Instead, all of the blood flow, that should have been going to his sharp mind and clever wit, was drawn straight to his throbbing cock. She moaned against him, sending vibrations like an overheated electrical current.

His hands threaded into her blue locks, fallen down against her cheek from sleep, no bouncing curls pinned to her scalp. Her face, usually drawn out in the contours and colors of make-up, was bare. Illuminating the softness of her.

The electrical current frayed his system, completely shutting it down as her hand palmed against the fabric of his suit pants, grasping at his hardened length that he couldn’t attempt to hide from her, even though he wished to.

Bulma felt the ache between her thighs, attempting to close her legs to coax it with pressure. She had been eying her tightly wound, sharp and handsome bodyguard for so long now that she assumed that even she was unable to break him. Mister Professional, Mister Clean-cut. Mister Irons-His-Own-Underwear… probably. It had become a challenge, her most difficult one to date, to try to get him to crack and specifically to do certain things she was certain he never would.

The first time she made him smile, he pretended to cough and covered his mouth. It happened so quickly, that if she hadn’t been inspecting him carefully, she would have missed it. She cradled the memory of the brief flicker of his good humor in the back of her mind. Conjuring it up, conveniently, every time she considered slapping him in the face for being so insufferable.

The first time she heard him laugh, an honest laugh, felt as though she had earned some sort of special contest that had never been won by anyone before. She was able to recall the sound easily. As though she could drop the needle and circle the record in her mind to play it at will.

The first time he touched her, whether intentionally or not was beside the point, was a moment she would never forget. An adoring and slightly deranged ‘fan’ of hers had broken through a crowd of clambering and cheering people as she made an appearance at a film premiere. She managed to garner more fanfare than any of the actors that were in the movie, but she liked giving press to things she enjoyed. Vegeta had spotted him quickly, his laser like focus and intensity coming in handy. He wasn’t just eye candy for her; he was actually good at his job. His arm, strained against her lower back, his thick fingers wrapped around her waist and yanked her out of the pathway of the running man. Afterwards, she remembered being a bit shaken up and realized that she was more shaken at the memory of Vegeta’s calloused touch than she was at the thought of a fan attacking her. The feel of his muscular arm, his rough fingers grasping at her pale gown. The only thing separating their skin from touching was the silk of her coral pink dress.

That was when she realized that this all was a bit of a problem and not just the fun game that she originally intended for it to be. She realized it even more last night when she danced with Raditz. She could really see how much this was beginning to chip away at him, she had nearly exposed the truth the skeletal frame below the sculpture. But at this point she would be six feet under, withering into bones and dust if she left it up for him to ever do something about it.

So that is why when he showed up at her door in his tightly pressed and still slightly warm-to-the-touch suit, she had to take matters into her own hands. She hummed lightly as she felt his cock stir and somehow grow harder than it already was.

Her tongue slid against his, their lips colliding and his mouth nearly bruised hers with its intensity. She had never been kissed in such a way before. Yamcha was always concerned about being too rough with her, and it always felt strained and incomplete. A peck on the cheek, a press at her mouth before pumping inside of her a few times. But Vegeta devoured her as though she was a delicacy that he would only be able to savor temporarily and would make sure to enjoy every single drop of nectar. He was rough without any regard for showing how interested and eager he actually was. To see the façade officially crumble was enough to make her knees tremble below her.

Vegeta felt her waver and he pulled her naked body tighter against his, bracing her against his chest. The kiss deepened and their hands clawed at one another. His suit jacket was nearly torn off of his biceps and disregarded across the room. His tie, she loosened and wrapped it around her hand as though she were bleeding and needed him to specifically clot it for her.

Their lips separated for a moment at the yanking of his tie. Their shared, hot breath tingled against the small space between them. Hanging in the air, an unspoken question.

“Stop. We need to stop,” he panted in a way that nearly made her chuckle with how insincere it sounded.

“Mmm, are you sure about that Bad Man? You can barely stand upright; you are so hard.”

Vegeta’s jaw drew slack, gravity taking its hold on him by the bluntness of her words. “Y-you vulgar woman.”

“Yeah? Well, what are you going to do about it?” She teased and before she could celebrate in how hot she could feel his blush burn, he growled and shoved her onto the bed.

His hands were on her, grabbing at every bit of pale flesh he could find. Worshipping yet remorseful at how perfect she was. Wondering why this hadn’t happened sooner. And why he was allowing this to happen at all. Two conflicting truths. Her hands yanked at his ironed button-down, dragging wrinkles into the fabric that he had glared at and pushed against this morning with the iron. Zeroing in all of his frustration to help think of anything other than her curves below the wet, see-through dress last night.

Bulma’s lips were at his neck and then at his throat nipping at his Adam’s apple that bobbed as he tried to suppress a deep, quiet moan. Her hands unbuttoned his pants and pulled past his undergarments, nearly tearing them open to free his cock. When she grasped the warm and smooth flesh he bucked hard into her hand before pinning her wrists above her head and slamming her into the mattress.

She pressed her cunt against him, moaning and arching her back to deepen the sensation.

“If we’re going through with this, I’m going to make every single second count, and I’m going to take my time with you,” he growled, his usually tidy voice was ragged, ripped apart and raw. She felt a different pulsating heat coil between her thighs, her heartbeat vibrating straight to her clit at his words. She never thought she would hear him utter a single thing so utterly feral and hot. Mister-Tightly-Wound was now snapping apart, and it made the victory ever so sweet.

He released one of her wrists to slide a finger against her slick entrance. Her now freed hand wrenched into his wild black hair as she cried out for more.

She had been used to being the object of everyone’s attention and desire. And while she would never get sick of being admired, she had to admit that it did little for her in the way of men and whether they were actually interested in her or the idea of her. Vegeta left no room for doubt in the way that he stared at her, the way that he enjoyed every part of her. She had never felt so desired and so truly appreciated before and it was a disarming feeling. To be so seen. She grasped his jaw and pulled him in for another searing kiss.

His finger curled inside of her, his palm pressing against her clit and making her dig her red nails into the white hotel sheets. Her lips pulled away from him as she moaned loudly. His mouth, now free from hers, sought out her neck, inhaling the sweetness of strawberries from the wave of cerulean curls framed around her head on the bed below them. His lips drifted until his mouth pulled around a taught nipple, dragging his tongue against it and nipping at it until Bulma curled her toes and arched her back again.

“Please,” she whimpered. “More.”

“Patience,” he tsked, smirking as he dropped one nipple and immediately licked the other. He realized for the first time, maybe possibly ever, he was in control. He had imagined every possible scenario with which he could fuck her, taste her, make her scream for him. He had already promised he would take his time. He dropped her breasts admiring the way the bounced and moved.

He had seen her in her revealing gowns and cocktail dresses designed, he was certain, specifically with his exact desires in mind. He had even seen her in swimwear before, a burned image branded to his fucking eyeballs for eternity. But to not only see her fully naked but to touch her the way he had longed to for so long was almost too much. To witness her writhing beneath him, because of him, was enough to nearly make him unravel on the spot. He brought one of his slick fingers to his lips, the taste of her, spurring something primal deep within.

“I can’t wait,” she pleaded behind her big ocean eyes, fluttering her dark lashes up at him, her bare lips flushed and swollen from their kiss. “I need you. Don’t you feel how wet you make me?”

And just like that, the control vanished. That was enough for him to lose any sense of self and before either of them could consider what to do next, he hooked her legs around his waist, and he was inside of her in a swift, hard thrust.

They cried out in unison as his elbows braced himself above her, her legs tightened around him as he thrusted again. She realized she would have to call Whis to let him know that she wouldn’t be making the luncheon. Or any other obligations for the next week, or month, probably. She would be in this bed having Vegeta fuck her brains out until she couldn’t move. She decided this, before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as he reached a spot that had never been touched, his voice growling and grunting in her ear about how perfect she was and how perfect she felt.

She clawed at his shirt, digging into the flesh of his shoulders below it. Needing to find a way to ground herself as he pounded into her. It was unremitting between them and while they both had wanted to take their time and enjoy each moment, their bodies had moved on their own. Instead, they were lost within one another by their frenzied movements, chasing their release. They could take their time after this. They needed something to soften this fire between them. To make it manageable instead of so torn apart by this exposed passion.

A knock thundered into the room.

“Bulma? Are you almost ready to go? Do you know where Vegeta is?” Whis’ sing song voice was muffled from behind the locked door of her hotel room.

Vegeta was off of her so fast that if she hadn’t felt the aching absence of his cock inside of her, she would have assumed she hallucinated it all.

She took a mental picture of the look on his face. The half-blissful, half horrified glance at her before he was back in his room, the joining door between their walls slamming shut.

“H-he was just checking to make sure I was almost ready, too. I’ll be down in a few,” she replied back to Whis, her voice raspy and annoyed as she fell back on the bed throwing a pillow over her face and screaming into it in frustration.

~*~

Bulma glared so hard that she was certain if she really wanted to that she could melt glaciers. She first glared at Whis who had interrupted the best sex of her life, and then at all of the fossilized scientists sitting at the table with her. Out of the corner of her eye, He had the audacity to stand there with his back pressed up against the wall. The stick lodged up his ass, was lodged somehow even further. If his expression was anything to go off of. Sure, her father was literally paying him to stand there. But that didn’t change the fact that she was annoyed by his presence.

Not a single stolen glance from him, or a moment just between them. His eyes instead strained forward, he looked almost bored. As if he couldn’t be bothered to be happy to be in her presence. Or show any sort of indication that he was giving any thought about their morning together. It was as though she didn’t even exist.

Bulma wanted to stand up and throw her martini in his face. Then probably lick it off of his stupid perfect lips. She nearly growled out loud until she remembered that she was supposed to be half paying attention to the dick-measuring contest of a luncheon that she was a guest of honor for. She didn’t feel very honored to be talked over by a bunch of men that were so old they could barely even drive their own cars here.

Bulma’s ever shifting mind and attention moved on to admire the décor of the opulent room they sat in. The emerald walls and sparkling gold accents shaped and curved in an art deco style. She stood out amongst the sea of black and navy suits and ties, wearing a leopard-print dress tight enough to be criminal and garner a lot of inappropriate stares. Instead, all she thought of was rough hands, a growling prayer in the crook of her neck. 

She found herself drifting back to thoughts of Vegeta, of the way his black eyes carved into her, shaping her and memorizing every inch of her.

Much to the surprise of anyone who would be willing to listen, the only other man that Bulma had actually ever been with was Yamcha. She had been attached to his arm since she was a teenager and was a loyal and faithful partner. It wasn’t until the last couple of years when Yamcha couldn’t bear how famous she was, how he had become a glorified purse holder instead of sharing the bright flash of cameras, that it had changed. It was his immaturity, his jealousy about her success that had been the nail in the coffin. It was the realization that there was no fire between them that had hammered it into the wood and lowered it under the soil.

And since she had been weighed down by Yamcha she had spent her recent freedom enjoying the thrill and the game of it all. Seeing how many dates she could collect, how many drinks and lust-filled stares she could garner and put on her ledger. She even had many heated kisses and make-out sessions. But she had never been with anyone other than her longtime boyfriend turned ex-fiancé. It also didn’t help that any time she was being pursued by another man that the look of third-degree murder on Vegeta’s face would send most of them running in the other direction. Vegeta was the only person she was actually interested in pursuing anything physical with, since she had zeroed in on him as her target.

And now that it had happened, she was very annoyed to realize that she was the one who was caught in his web. She liked him for a while now. A crush was all she believed it to be. But that had changed very drastically. His stupid little hot and cold game was working wonders for her competitive and stubborn side. She didn’t like being the one getting played in the game that she had started to begin with. She considered walking the length of the catering hall and grabbing him by his stupid tie and sticking her tongue in his mouth just to stake her claim.

Whis cleared his throat and shook her from her thoughts. He seemed to notice how distracted she looked and tried to gently nudge her with the flick of his neck towards Dr. Gero. She sighed before flashing a fake smile to show any level of feigned interest in the conversation. Her attention was immediately gone as her eyes wandered away. She caught Lapis and Lazuli at the edge of the other side of the room; they somehow looked even more bored than Vegeta. They sat with cigarettes perched on their hands, becoming an extension of their limbs. Raditz stood not too far from Vegeta with a good view of the twins and of everything else. He noticed her glaring at Vegeta and winked at her. Her glare turned into a smile that lit up her features at seeing a familiar face.

And then her attention fell back to Vegeta who had noticed the interaction. The jealousy that filled his eyes with green twisted into her gut with a warm and needy heat. There was the fire she had longed for, the intensity that made her knees weak. It was there and it was stronger than ever. Their eyes locked and the breath in her lungs hitched at the sight of him.

///

Fury crinkled the smooth waters of Vegeta’s face. Rolling, crashing waves nearly flipping the ship over and altering its course. Raditz fucking winked at her, and she smiled back. She turned her eyes to Vegeta, locking onto him, line and sinker. They shared a moment, quick enough that if anyone was watching they would have missed it. But it felt like hours stretching across them.

The look of nonchalance on his features was long gone as he felt heat flushing his cheeks. He had avoided even looking at her since this morning. He knew if they locked eyes that it would be over. He couldn’t handle his lack of professionalism. His swan dive from grace as he sunk himself deep inside of her. And he wouldn’t let her deepen those claws into him again. He would keep away from her, he would pretend this hadn’t happened he would—apparently notice Raditz winking at her and nearly flip the nearest table over in anger like a toddler.

She licked her lips before lifting up her martini glass, sipping it slowly before wiping away the liquid that saturated her signature red lips. Her matching fingernails dragged against her full bottom lip. Tracing every crevice that he longed to plunge his tongue into. She seemed to be aware of all of this as the most satisfied smile graced her features. He shook his head trying to think of literally anything other than her moaning and begging for more, the feel of her perfect fucking tits in his mouth.

She was able to read thoughts too, apparently. Because her free hand drifted up to her neck, twisting at the pearls perched on her collarbone just above her tightly pushed up cleavage. She pretended to itch there, intentionally dragging the low-cut fabric of her leopard-print neckline around to expose a part of her that he ached to touch. She turned in a way that it looked as though she was simply just adjusting her seat at the luncheon table, but instead he realized in horror, that she was sitting so that her pale creamy legs were exposed from underneath the safety of the white tablecloth. Her red heel was pointed directly at him, like a bullseye hypnotizing a hunter with its existence. Her hand fell down to her lap, the flash of red highlighted her nails as her hand inched up between her thighs and paused there at the bunched up fabric of her dress.

She licked her lips, more red. A visage of blood over a lapping predator’s mouth. The sweet taste of victory as he felt his jaw unhinging, his black eyes burning with a fire he didn’t know how to snuff out as her scarlet nails trailed up her legs, between her thighs and under her animal print dress. She opened her legs enough that he was met with the sight of black lace and blue. Her white breasts that were pouring out of the top of her shirt heaved with the movement of her breath hitching. 

And in a moment, it stopped. The leopard print flashed until she was crossing her legs again twisting the pearls of her necklace between her fingers that had just been grazing her wet cunt. She tossed him a smile, a victorious win.

He wasn’t going to make it out of this alive, of that, he was sure.

~*~

“There is a storm warning of torrential rain and thunderstorms,” Vegeta grunted as they approached the exit of the catering hall. She had survived the boredom of the luncheon by teasing Vegeta the entire time instead. Once the lunch and cocktails had ended, Whis went on ahead to get a few things settled for the upcoming week of meetings while Bulma was scheduled for a photo shoot in a prominent science magazine which was on the way back to Capsule Corp Mansion. “It’s best if we stay here another night and you re-schedule the photo shoot.”

“Okay well I didn’t have you being a meteorologist down on my bingo card, but here we are,” Bulma snarked as she fixed her hair back into place, gazing at her reflection in the long vertical mirrors that lined the lobby. The art deco vibe had carried out into the foyer as well. Triangular chandeliers with reflective opulence glimmered onto the marble floors that her red heels clicked against.

“The radio issued a warning for everyone to stay indoors and to only travel for emergencies,” he replied, with a deep narrowing of his eyes.

“Right, and my photo shoot is an emergency,” Bulma replied, before strolling past her reflection and into the rotating doors. Once she was outside, she walked towards the mint-colored car.

Vegeta was a pace beside her growling in frustration. He followed her into the car, sliding behind the steering wheel and placing his gun down into the console, as she gracefully sat in the passenger seat.

He folded his arms over his chest and glared out of the windshield.

Bulma glared back at him when he didn’t immediately have her pressed into the car seat with his tongue down her throat. She pulled back the bow of her anger and launched the arrow directly at him.

“Stop being a big baby and just drive,” Bulma snapped. “It’s not even raining right now! The weatherman is probably wrong. They’re always wrong.”

Vegeta clutched the steering wheel, setting his jaw back into place as he started the car, begrudgingly. “Right. I’m the fucking baby,” he scoffed under his breath.

“‘Right, I’m the fucking baby,’” she mimicked his deep scratchy voice perfectly. She paused realizing how petulant she was being and tumbled into laughter. Even Vegeta who looked furious a moment before, broke into a short laugh at her words.

“You’re not really selling your point.”

“Shut up. I don’t know, it sounded like a good comeback in my mind,” she finally said, wiping a tear away from her eye from her wheezing laughter.

“They say the mind is the first thing to go in old age.” He smirked as he peeled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

Bulma gasped before punching him in the shoulder. “Fucking asshole,” she muttered.

“Well one of us needs to be the voice of reason,” he replied.

As was expected, there was no rain for most of the car ride and Bulma made sure to point that out several times before crossing her arms and grinning in satisfaction, placing an invisible crown on her head as the winner of this argument with Vegeta.

That was until the first couple of drops hit the windshield.

“It’s barely raining,” she scoffed when Vegeta cleared his throat and pointed.

And then it was pouring. As though someone was continuously throwing buckets filled with water onto the windshield.

Vegeta locked eyes with her for a split second, the satisfied, smug look on his face was brief before he turned his attention to try to focus on the road. He pulled over into a nearby parking lot of a location he couldn’t decipher, even if he wanted to. He pulled the car into the corner of the lot near a few blurry shaded palm trees. It became nearly impossible to see and so after a few moments, he turned the keys out of the ignition.

The silence crept its silky claws around them. Vegeta loosened the collar of his tie and Bulma licked her lips, tugging at the tight skirt of her dress.

“So, are we just not going to talk about it, then?” She said, cracking the silence in two.

“Nope,” he replied, not feeling the slightest bit mature or dignified in his response.

“What are you, five years old in total?” She snorted as she ran a hand through her turquoise curls.

“We’ve already established that I’m a baby, if you remember,” he said.

“So, you’ve gotten what you wanted from me and now you’re going to pretend that it never happened at all? Just go on about your day as though your world hasn’t completely shifted and tilted on its axis after this morning?” She said, speaking the deep cut that she pretended wasn’t there, into existence.

He turned to face her, his mouth hanging slightly open. How was he supposed to respond to something like that? She was always coming up with responses that seemed to open a scissor and cut a sharp line through his ability to communicate properly.

“It’s not like that,” he said, rubbing the temples of his forehead.

“Well then, what the fuck is it like?” She snapped, her blue eyes striking him, a lash across his face.

”For starters? I work for you. And this is all just a sick game that you’ve conjured,” he replied starting off brazen and tumbling into a quiet tone.

”A game that I’ve conjured?” She replied incredulously, trying to deflect from the fact that he was absolutely correct. Even though at this point, she had realized that he may very well being winning this game if the slamming of her heart against her chest was anything to go by. The hot and cold. Intense and nonchalant. Whimpering between her thighs and not even making eye contact across a room. It was too much for her scientific mind to handle. She had to know the answer to her hypothesis and he absolutely knew what he was doing to her and her mind running on overdrive. How fucking dare he.

”You heard me, woman.” 

The rain had let up and he turned the ignition, deciding it was safe enough to drive. It appeared as though they had parked at some sort of rest stop on the highway on the way back to West City. It was desolate and looked as though it might have been abandoned. He turned the ignition again when nothing happened but then the car made an ungodly sound before it stalled.

“God damnit,” he growled, slamming his hands onto the steering wheel.

“I’ll go take a look at it,” Bulma sighed before opening the door to the car and realizing how much it was raining. “Oh, no way, I’m going to get soaked!”

“Well then be prepared to sit in this car all night then!” Vegeta grunted. “I will go walk and see if I can find a solution. Since a little water might make you melt. Or perhaps a gust of wind will cause a house to fall on you and your striped socks.”

“Shut up! I’m sure it will let up in a few minutes so let’s just wait it out and then I’ll take a look and see what’s wrong with the car.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

The silence, the insufferable sound of absolutely nothing, filled the car. A reminder of everything that they were not saying out loud. Of all the words neither one of them dared to speak.

She turned to face him; he clenched his jaw tightly and pretended to watch the patterns of the raindrops crashing onto the windshield. The orange and gray light of a stormy dusk highlighted his stoic profile and Bulma realized, once again, that she would have to take matters into her own hands.

“Alright, if you’re not going to say anything, I’ll have to figure out a different way to get you to talk.”

Before Vegeta could decipher what the fuck she was planning, Bulma scooted across the seat until she was beside him, her thigh touching his. She hoisted the pencil skirt of her dress, lifted herself up and straddled his hips. His eyes grew wide, and his hands gripped the steering wheel instead of her. She pressed her hips down, feeling the growing hardness of his cock and she gasped happily before cracking a wide smile.

“Is that a gun in your pocket?” Her voice was smooth, cat-like in its coyness as she pressed her hips into his for good measure. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

He sputtered, unable to conjure up a single syllable from the English language. A deluge of memories clamored through his mind of how it felt to be buried inside of her, even if just for a few blissful moments. The scars from her red-nailed grip against his length, stirred even more at the movement of her hips.

“How have you been able to think of anything other than fucking me?” She inquired, her perfectly traced red lips murmured against his ear. “It’s all I can think about.”

“Bulma,” he growled, as though he had every intention of stopping this from going too far. A very poor performance in a part that he couldn’t even pretend to play. It had already gone too far.

Vegeta’s hands twisted into her locks, yanking her down to connect their lips. She smiled into the kiss before grinding against him. His hands were up her skirt, gripping her ass and pulling her closer to him. Her back hit the steering wheel in their movement and beeped the horn, causing both of them to break apart. She let out a little yelp before giggling. He sucked the laughter out of her mouth, drawing her in for another searing kiss, before they climbed and fumbled into the spacious backseat of the car.

He lowered her down onto her back and crawled on top of her, hovering there to peer down at her, to fully drink her in. The sound of the rain splattering against the convertible’s fabric top was almost as loud as their heartbeats. She licked her lips, and he mirrored her before flashing that delicious smirk that always made her breathing quicken. A glimmer of white from the sharper canines that he bore had her cunt pulse at the thought of his mouth against her. He yanked her skirt well above her waist, making sure to trail his fingers against her thighs, thigh highs and her hips. He hooked his fingers onto the top of her black, lacy panties, yanking it down off of her smooth legs, pausing to run his lips against her creamy calf and kiss her ankle. He tossed the useless fabric to the floor of the car before the point of Bulma’s red heel dug into his cheek forcing his attention back to her face.

Vegeta spread her legs, breaking eye contact to enjoy the view of her before him. Splayed out like a priceless work of art in front of curator who couldn’t possibly know how to properly collect and display such beauty. His lips were on her, at her thighs, dragging to her entrance, before his tongue slid against her slit. She arched her back, lifting her hips involuntarily and thrusting against his mouth. He hummed against her, moaning as he held her hips in place and let his tongue explore her. Yamcha had never dared to do such a thing to her and the though left her as soon as he devoured her.

His fingers slid inside of her, filling the emptiness that had ached since this morning, before curling and twisting as his tongue pressed against the hood of her clit. She was writhing below him after a few short minutes, crying out his name.

One hand twisted into his black hair, holding him down so she could ride her orgasm against his face. The other slapped against the back window, creating a smeared handprint into the condensation of the glass as she cried out for him again and again. Her handprint was wiped away from her movement of her body writhing against him and of the car seat as she was overwhelmed by her pleasure. 

He licked his lips clean of her, her sweetness slicked on his wet lips as his black eyes darkened and took in the sight of her blissful and gasping for air.

She climbed on top of him in a moment, shoving him hard against the white leather of the backseat. Her hand slid into his pants, yanking him free from his belt in seconds before she held his cock in her hand, pressed at her entrance.

”I need you inside of me.”

He grabbed her hips, holding her into place as he thrusted upward at the same time that she slid down his length. They moaned, a harmonic sound as their hips moved quickly. Her fingers gripped the white leather on either side of his head as she moved back and forth on him.

“How could I ever get my fill of what I want from you…” he panted, gripping her ass so hard she felt bruises forming, as their bodies found their rhythm together. “When all I fucking want, is you.”

Bulma moaned before his lips hungrily crushed against hers. Their tongues collided, battling and teasing, as his hands left her ass to grasp at her creamy cleavage. He yanked the dress down, exposing her breasts and putting his lips against them. His hand was at the nape of her neck, dragging down the zipper of her dress so that he could grab at the hooks of her bra. In a quick movement he unhooked it, and Bulma managed to slide it off and through the sleeve of the dress before she directed her attention back to moving her hips and arching her back in a way that made Vegeta forget his own name.

He grabbed her hand, putting it between them, coaxing her to touch herself. “Show me how you want it,” he panted into her hair. “Show me how to make you scream.”

She tilted her head back, exposing her throat to him, whimpering as her fingers moved furiously against herself. Recalling the times she had plunged her fingers deep inside of her cunt as her toes curled in bed at night, fantasizing about this exact moment.

“Like that,” she grabbed his hand, placing it where she wanted him to touch her, and she moved his hand in a motion that had her hips moving wildly. “Mmm, this is so much better than I imagined it would be.”

He shuddered at the thought of her thinking about this, just like he did. Touching herself at night when he was just a room away, a thin wall between them. Both of their bodies moving in whispers under their separate bed sheets.

“Oh. My. God. Don’t stop,” she moaned, loudly punctuating each word. The sound causing him to snap back into the moment and buck his hips against her. He had to convince his body not to cum inside of her at that exact moment and instead focus on her release. To hear his name leave her lips as she completed and clawed at him, bleeding him dry.

“You’re mine,” he moaned, the sound a pathetic one but he didn’t have it within himself to care as his teeth nipped at her throat.

“You’re mine,” she cried back, a promise more than a mimic, before his name fell from her lips, again. The tightening of her walls caused him to immediately follow behind her, their fingers, and limbs cradled around one another as their breaths evened out in unison after a few blissful moments.

Their lips sought refuge from the silence and from the space between them, once again.

~*~

It was a sudden, blinding light that betrayed the softness of sleep. He shot up from the cold leather seat, noticing a warm weight against him. Bulma was curled around him, like a lock of hair twisting and putting a nervous finger at ease with its tight embrace. Their clothes were in disarray, half on, half off, and wrinkled more than his furrowed brow as he inspected the traces of evidence of what occurred between them. She nuzzled against him; her fingers entwined around his waist as she sighed in contentment.

He felt himself start to smile, a very small, yet soft one. But it was there, and it was filling him with a warmth he had never known. That was until another blinding light shocked his system. He sat up in the seat looking around in confusion wondering if the day had turned to night or not, but it sort of looked like day again. Maybe it was morning. His vision came back into focus before realizing what the fuck sort of predicament he was in. He mentally punched himself in the gut, shaking himself, trying to wake the fuck up out of whatever sort of fantasy land he had purchased a one-way ticket for.

“Bulma! Wake up,” he hissed, rousing her and attempting to find his suit jacket to toss on top of her.

“God, Vegeta can’t you just let me have a moment of peace? I figured you aren’t exactly the cuddling type, but I am so comfortable right now, so just deal with it,” she groaned before she buried her face deeper into his side.

“Woman! The God damn paparazzi are here!”

“Fuck!” She shrieked before she sunk down into the bottom of the car below the seat, attempting to fix herself into her clothes in a more forgiving manner.

Vegeta tucked himself back into his pants and buckled his belt in such a quick motion that it was as though nothing had ever happened. Bulma wiped at her lips with the back of her hand quickly eying her reflection in the rear-view mirror to remove any red that had smudged. She glanced quickly, realizing that thankfully the paparazzi hadn’t actually approached the car yet, likely testing their cameras to get it ready for the money shot of her getting out of the car. She could hear it already:

“Ms Briefs! Why did you miss the photo shoot?”

“Ms Briefs! Did you sleep in your car?”

“Ms Briefs, is that your bodyguard or your boyfriend?”

“Ms Briefs did you really have nearly 4 orgasms with that man?”

She shook her head trying to silence it. “Okay, I’ll get out first and just distract them with some pictures and then you can get out and just frown at everyone like you always do,” Bulma said, devising the plan brick by brick as each word left her mouth.

“Yes, that’s exactly the one!” She said, pointing at the withering look on his face, barely illuminated by the shadows of the car and the grayish pink sky of early dawn. She would make it look like a believable scene. They had gotten caught up in the storm and were waiting it out before they fell asleep in the car on the way to the photo shoot. It made sense, they would buy it as long as she old them a good picture to go along with the story. It wouldn’t be the first time Bulma Briefs had stayed out until an indecent hour. 

After doing a nearly acrobatic twist of her legs and hips, she twisted the skirt of her dress back down and smoothed it out. Bulma threw the door open and stepped her pointed red pumps onto the ground. Trying not to think too long and hard about how it felt digging the heel of red into Vegeta’s perfectly sculpted ass as he pounded her into the white leather seat of the car. She shook her head, put on the most dazzling smile and clicked her heels against the concrete puddles and towards the slew of cars and paparazzi.

“Well, what’s a group of gentlemen like you all doing in a place like this?” She said in a joking voice as she approached the group.

A clatter of voices and sounds happened all at once. Making it near impossible to decipher it all at once. She cleared her throat, tossing her hair behind her shoulder and giving that divine smile that magazines and newspapers would pay a pretty penny for.

What Bulma failed to notice in the haste of making sure that she was nonchalantly put back together, was that she had forgotten to put her bra back on. Now she could understand the widened eyes of the paparazzi even more and why there seemed to be more lights flashing than she had ever seen before. In rapid succession like a round of applause, her temporary blinded eyes blinked a few times.

What only seemed to make matters somehow worse was Vegeta exiting the vehicle, slinging his gun into his holster and strolling into the background that he commanded, trying to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary. He had red lipstick smudged on his lips, on his neck, on the collar of his starch white button-down shirt. Her eyes widened for a moment before she realized how deeply satisfied, she was to have marked him as her own. Branding him with her red lip stain, showing the world from the fireworks of flashbulbs bursting that he was hers.

”Ms Briefs, are you sleeping with your bodyguard?”