Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Saiyan For All Seasons ❯ Comfortable ( Chapter 7 )

A Saiyan For All Seasons

Chapter Seven

Comfortable

Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine… (Insert something witty here… too damn tired… can't think… brain turning to mush.)

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It was the beginning of summer. Bulma, rather than losing such a glorious day to the confines of either lab or office, had chosen to stay at home. It wasn't her day off, but there was a tray of capsules to her left should she need more than her laptop and mobile - and a maidbot to her right, offering her an endless supply of ice-tea. A quick call to Michelle resulted in her office being moved to the patio table and she was perfectly comfortable going about her every day workload on the decking outside her home - not that sitting with her legs up, painting her nails while interrogating her newest intern on the mechanics of anti-gravity propulsion systems, could really be considered work.

"So you'd have no problem explaining the Biefield-Brown effect to me then?" she said, shifting the telephone under her chin and dabbing her little toe with scarlet.

"Uh…."

"Come on Mr. Gallagher. If you want to be level one then you need to be confident with the basics. I'm your employer not your lecturer. You know this."

"Yes ma'am."

"So, the Biefield-Brown effect is…?" she prompted.

"The Biefeld-Brown effect is the theory that high-voltage, air-gapped capacitors with different or asymmetrical capacities generate a net directional force upward from the larger element to the smaller element. This type of capacitor was created by Dr. Bo Brief in the latter half of the last century, and set the standard for all modern day aircars."

"Mr. Gallagher - I am perfectly aware of my family history. Perhaps instead you could tell me how this theory was adapted to our technology."

"On the Capsule Corp. model?"

"Naturally."

"The upward force was transformed from the aluminium foil to the wire, pushing against the ambient energy field of the surrounding area, which in turn pushes against the more rigid energy of the zero point energy field."

"Well… there you have it. That wasn't so difficult was it?"

"No ma'am."

Two words never conveyed so much relief.

Bulma calmly put the brush back in its pot. Now… did she let him off easy? Her eyes sparkled. She never took it easy on interns, besides she needed to know if he was up to the job.

"And the power source kicks out how many volts?"

"Fifteen thousand."

"At how many watts?"

"Uh… er… two-hundred and fifty?"

Bulma shook her head. He was so eager to impress her, and she was silently disappointed he failed.

"You're mistaking Capsule Corp's anti-gravity systems for Relaion Corp's electrostatic lifters," she replied. "Call me again in two months and then, if you have studied Capsule Corporation's engineering schematics hard enough, we might have something to talk about."

Bulma ended the call with a sigh and readjusted her sunglasses. From the looks of things, the small changes she'd already made since taking over Capsule Corp. were going to take longer to implement than she had originally planned. It was frustrating to say the least, but not all-consuming. Her father's system had worked well enough for the last ten years. Waiting another few months for the personnel to equip her new laboratories across town was hardly a crisis.

Trying to dispel her disappointment, she sipped from the lip of a long, chilled, glass and took a moment to survey her surroundings.

The cherry trees, having lost the blossom of spring, now displayed wonderful throngs of lush green leaves and lent much needed shade to the garden. It was the roses and pansies turn to paint the garden with colour. Azaleas, marigolds and tiger lilies lined the neat box hedges, separating the boundaries of Capsule Corporation and leading the eyes in a sweep towards the main house. High white puffy clouds intermittently dotted the perfect blue sky and the palms arced over the buildings in adoration of the scene.

Then there was the gravity room. It was directly in front of her. Four great dusty patches in the grass circled its supporting struts and for once they were securely rooted to the ground. That meant only one thing. For one reason or another, Vegeta wasn't training.

There were only three things that Vegeta did when not training. Eat, sleep, or…. Her cheeks flushed and she crossed her legs as her imagination took over.

Now Bulma couldn't say there was much difference in her behaviour around him after crossing that erotic line four months ago, and neither was there in his for her. Vegeta was still aloof and elusive for the majority of the time, but Bulma really didn't want or need him to be around that much. They were having casual sex, satiating a need that they both craved and wanted to purge without getting their hands dirty. There was no deeper meaning, or at least none that was safe to dwell on. Besides, Bulma was too busy for anything else.

Vegeta still continued to make that infuriating distinction between their relations and friendship and it was a pretty good indicator that he didn't want more. Bulma confessed to being a little disappointed, but she couldn't ignore the difference when compared to previous relationships and her current peace of mind. Being able to go on with her day to day life without feeling the pressures of a full-blown relationship was - in one word - liberating.

A shadow fell over her. Peering over the rim of her glasses, she had to restrain the urge to lick her lips at the view that greeted her.

Vegeta's compact body blocked the sun. The sweat from his training clung to his shoulders and chest, glistening as it dribbled and rippled over the maze of muscle and scars. His eyes fell heavily onto her and she caught him glancing at the drink in her hand and then to the nail polish on the table.

"And here you keep bitching that work is too demanding," he said with a snort. "I can see how this would be too stressful for you."

"Being at the top is a hard life," she sighed, letting her foot waft the nail-varnish dry under his nose, "but someone has to do it."

"Let me guess," he said. "You hold conferences in the sauna and seminars in the Jacuzzi."

She giggled. "Something like that. Finished for the day?"

"Hardly."

"Pity."

Vegeta stood around for a while, looking a touch lost. His posture hinted a desire to say more, but it appeared his pride wouldn't let his voice take such a suicidal leap. About to indulge him, Bulma was less than happy when her mobile phone buzzed into life, and even more so when Vegeta took it as a sign to leave. With nothing more than a snort he broke into his customary stride and stalked purposefully into the house. He'd probably only spoken to lure her away from her work. For being such an unpredictable little shit, he was sometimes incredibly easy to understand.

She picked up the phone, silencing the polyphonic ring tone, and grumbled, "Miss Briefs here, and it better be damn important or I'm hanging up." into the receiver. Not the most civil of ways to answer a business call, it was true, but all calls were directed to her secretary first and were only patched through to her personal cell phone if Bulma validated them first.

She was surprised therefore when there was a cheery -if not confused- male voice on the other end, rather than her secretary. "I'm not sure, Bulma. You said it was okay to call you on this number, but I know I haven't spoken to you in a while and that you're probably mad or something… that is… am I important enough?"

"Holy Shit! Goku! Don't be silly you idiot! Of course you are."

"Phew. You had me worried there."

"You know full well you're welcome to bug me any time of the day, come rain or shine and that I'd kick your arse to New Namek and back again if you ever thought better of it…. Got it?"

He laughed - a happy reverberating belly laugh. "Loud and clear. Suddenly I'm glad I decided to call rather than use IT."

"Well that maybe so, but couldn't you come over anyway? I haven't seen you since the party. Is your training that full on?"

"Like you wouldn't believe, but I can't talk long. Gohan and I were sparring all morning and Chi's making us lunch. I wish you could be here. It smells so good."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "You really know who your friends are when food comes into play, but I understand how important your training is."

"Well that's actually part of the reason I called. Gohan, Oolong, Yamcha, Puar, Krillin and I are all going on a camping trip in the mountains next week, you know, to get away from the training for a while and relax. We were wondering if you'd like to come with us - like old times. It just won't be the same if you're not there." He paused for a moment. "Vegeta's invited of course, and even though Yamcha doesn't seem to think he'll come, I said I'd invite him anyway - but so long as you'll be there then everything will be okay. You will be able to come, won't you? I know how busy you are with work and all."

Bulma sat up with a million-zeni smile. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away! It sounds like a blast, but isn't Chi Chi going?"

"No, it's not really her thing; she's staying with her father. But now that you're coming, it's all good."

"When should I come over?"

"Drop by about nine on Friday… what was that…? Oh yeah, Chi just reminded me that Yamcha says you're not allowed to bring any capsules. We're going to be roughing it all the way and he says he doesn't want you cheating."

"What! That bastard! He's such a spoilsport," she grumbled. "Is he there now?"

"No I saw him this morning. I kind of teleported in at an awkward time, but he was all right about it after throwing the nightstand at me, and we had a long chat." His tone grew serious. "I never realized things were so final between you guys, are you okay? I know how much you two cared about each other."

"And still do," she reminded him, "but more so now. I'm very happy to be his friend, and consider myself very fortunate to be able to still love him as much as ever."

"Then it's probably for the best… after all… who knows what the future holds?"

"Riiiiight. I'll see you Friday and don't you dare do what you did last time. I'm not trekking after your sorry arse for three days because you want to see some freaky Dino thingies beating the crap out of each other."

"Don't sweat it. It's not the right time of the year for the really good fights, but what about Vegeta? Do you think he'll come?"

"Well, it won't hurt to ask. You never know," she said dryly, "hell might freeze over."

The sarcasm was overlooked. Goku wasn't listening to her anyway. "Um… sorry, Bulma, I have to run; Chi says I have to wash up. I'm drowning in my own drool - I can smell hot ribs, mashed potatoes and pork chops! Man, am I starved!"

Bulma's stomach groaned. "Thanks a lot, now you're making me hungry."

"See you Friday!" he laughed.

The line went dead long before Bulma was able to say anything. She looked to the phone, chuckling and shaking her head. "Bye."

The sun was close to oppressive as Bulma stretched against it. Getting away from the rigours of work and relaxing in the beautiful countryside surrounding Son-Kun's home for a whole week - it sounded like paradise. She couldn't wait. A glance at her watch, however, told her it was almost one. Perhaps it would be wise to get something proper to eat. Then she could track down her father and see if he was willing to cover for her.

She entered the house through the kitchen and went straight to the refrigerator. A colourful curse was added as a prefix to Goku's name as her tummy, once again, grumbled in complaint.

"What has the imbecile done now?"

Bulma jumped, banging her head none-too-gently on the icebox. How in the hell had she missed Vegeta sitting at the table, munching his way through a weeks worth of groceries?

She rubbed the back of her head.

"I can't imagine who you mean? The only imbecile I know is the one name-throwing at my kitchen table."

"Is that a fact? I didn't hear you cursing out my name? What got you so pissed off at Kakarrot?"

"First of all, Vegeta, there is a difference between getting pissed off and affectionately scolding, and secondly, if you must know, he gave me a craving for spare ribs and pork chops. What happened to the leftovers from yesterday?"

"I happened," he said, holding up one of the offending pieces of meat.

Her face fell. "Don't tell me you've eaten them all."

"Not all of them, but…" He put the pork to his mouth, making eye contact with her before taking a bite. "I intend to."

Bulma held back just in time. Was Vegeta - god forbid it - being playful? This had to be a moment worthy of note!

"Oh?" she said, slinking up to the table next to him, testing the waters as she dared to place her barely covered backside on his lap.

His strong thigh muscles tensed underneath her soft flesh and she smiled a little in victory. By miracle or accident their intimacy had managed to stay unnoticed by the rest of the world, and it was highly irregular for them to show each other personal attention like this outside the bedroom.

"You have all these other plates." She pointed them out individually. "What do we have over here? Cake - fruit - rice - dumplings - egg rolls? Come on… you don't really need these two little insignificant pieces of meat, do you?"

Vegeta's face didn't change. He was stony and resolutely quiet in his treatment of her, but he likewise didn't push her away. Bulma took this as encouragement to continue and hooked one arm around that muscular neck, putting her face right up to his, giving him no choice but to acknowledge her.

"Do I have to beg?"

Vegeta swallowed the food he was chewing and wiped a napkin across his mouth as though removing the emotion that belied his interest. "Try it and see where it gets you," he said lowly.

She pouted, looking up through thick lashes. "Pleeeeeeeeeeease."

"That was pathetic!" he scathed.

"Was it?"

"Most definitely."

"Then how come I have the pork chop now?" she laughed, jumping off his lap and holding her prize in the air.

His playfulness disappeared. That infuriating scowl reshaped his brow as he returned to his food and Bulma was sorry for it. The room engulfed into silence and she sighed with her disappointment before moving to the counter to prepare her food.

She buttered a roll, and once she was finished, brushed off the work surface, and put the knife and breadboard in the dishwasher. Only once the machine whirred into life did she sit down at the table directly opposite Vegeta.

They ate together, not a word being said by either. That was until Bulma caught or rather 'felt' him staring. She was getting better at deciphering the angles and creases that shaped meaning into Vegeta's brow, but not as proficient as she would like. Was that curiosity or confusion?

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, wanting to end the silence and draw him into something other than eyebrow gymnastics.

All she gained was a snort and more silence - that was until a small sideways movement of his hand caught her attention. It reached to the other side of the condiments and grabbed a hidden plate, pushing it next to hers. There on the glazed and periwinkle decorated ceramic was another pork chop, and Bulma instantly met his eyes in shock. He didn't shirk her gaze, but made such an angry and repulsed little snarl that she found herself taking her own eyes away.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

He didn't reply. Instead she heard the legs of his chair scrape the floor as he stood. Her eyes left her plate and dared to view him again only as his back was turned and he was stooping to stop the dishwasher cycle. He fumbled with the catch before gliding the door open.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I'm going away for a week on Friday. Goku's started up his annual camping trip thing again and we're going to be roughing it in the mountains for a week. I just thought, you know, considering the circumstances, that I'd let you know."

Vegeta put his hand into the steam and set his plate on the bottom rack. Bulma winced, remembering when she'd done a similar thing once and ended up on the accident and emergency ward. Didn't he feel that?

"It doesn't concern me."

"Well actually it does," she replied, "because you're invited."

He snorted - the sound full of arrogant derision. "I think you know where to tell Kakarrot to stick his invitation."

"Mmm, kinky."

His lip twitched. "Have I ever told you, you're a vulgar woman?"

She winked. "Don't pretend you don't like me that way."

"I would never dream of pretending anything so totally absurd."

"Vegeta, Vegeta," she laughed, waggling a finger in his direction. "Do you really want me to prove you wrong?"

He thought for a moment and then gave her a wicked smirk. "Yes."

She blushed. "Well, too bad. I have to speak to Dad and organize my time off."

He scowled, slamming the dishwasher closed again. "And I have training to do."

Bulma continued to eat for a little while and was surprised that Vegeta hadn't left for the gravity room already. Instead he seemed content to stand against the worktop with his arms folded, those intense eyes watching her eat. It was a little disconcerting, but she was hungry and Bulma wasn't about to give up her food because of him.

"I thought you had training to do?"

"Your father's in there, messing around with something or other."

"And you couldn't kick him out?"

His face grew more serious. "That would be… detrimental to my plans."

"Oh?"

He seemed unsure of himself - an expression that looked completely out of place on his usually proud and arrogant features.

"Spit it out, Vegeta. I do have to get back to work at some point today."

"I'm planning something of an excursion myself," he said. "Your father is making adjustments to the gravity room in preparation for it."

Despite all her assertions about not needing him around, Bulma felt her smile falter. "You're going back into space?"

"Yes."

"For long?"

He looked really awkward now. "As long as it takes."

"To reach Super Saiyan?"

"Yes."

"When?"

It was amazing how one single piece of information made Bulma lose all confidence in her own voice. Fortunately it didn't look as though Vegeta was expecting anything more.

"Whenever the old man is finished, and it has been sufficiently stocked. He says Sunday."

"So… after Friday, we won't see each other for a while?"

"I should imagine not."

She calmly ate the last of the bread roll, even though her hands were shaking. Once she was finished, she picked up her plate and brushed past Vegeta, washing it up in the sink rather than stopping the dishwasher for a second time.

Those charcoal eyes never once left her.

"I guess," she said, putting the plate on the drip tray and drying her hands on a tea towel. "I guess this means we have a lot of time to catch up for?"

He didn't answer but nodded as she walked across to stand casually next to him.

"Well, seeing as my father won't be free for a while, it means we both have some spare time."

"So it seems."

"Want to go to bed?"

He chuckled and pushed off the counter, grabbing her wrist and frogmarching her out of the kitchen. "I thought you'd never ask."

Vegeta's grip was only a notch below painful. He dragged her up the stairs and down the corridors to his room in little more than a revised wristlock. Outside the privacy of their lovemaking he was rarely gentle or even civil with her, but this afternoon he had been both. It certainly peaked her interest. Could it be that there was a correlation between his playful mood and his decision to leave?

She couldn't think of another explanation, the only trouble was, it could be taken two ways. Her vanity told her that perhaps he was sorry to leave and he was being nice because he wanted to make the most of the time they had left together, but reason was far more resilient. It said that perhaps Vegeta's trip had a second motive - to give him time and distance away from her, and, no matter how depressing, this theory was the more plausible.

Having navigated the threshold of his room, Bulma found her wrist free from his grip, and rather than moving forward to meet him, she stood by the door. He sat on the very end of the bed to remove his gloves and boots and then push them next to the nightstand.

A low scowl defined his sharp and arrogant features as he moved back towards her. Perhaps on someone else it might look repugnant, but not Vegeta. On him it was nothing short of mesmerizing. One more step and suddenly there was no room between them. One of his hands slammed the slightly ajar door, firmly shut behind her, and the other held her chin. Those piecing eyes scrutinized her face, reading her features as she had tried to read his - only with better success.

"Something wrong?" he asked, not so pleasantly.

She shook her head. Vegeta held her gaze a while before moving to taste her mouth. His tongue ran over her closed lips, but when they refused to open for him, he pulled away, bringing the back of a hand across his mouth.

"I don't take kindly to being made a fool of," he said in a surprisingly calm voice. "If you have something to say then say it. I will not suffer being lied to."

Bulma was caught. There was no use trying to hide from her question. Vegeta had an uncanny ability to detect deceit.

She sighed in frustration. "I… that is, I just want to know one thing."

"What?"

"That you're coming back."

"You mean, when I am Super Saiyan?"

"That… or when the androids get here, whichever comes first," she corrected.

"A realistic request."

"I think so."

He straightened his back and turned away. "If I wished to avoid the fight then I would not be on earth right now. I have no interest in this planet or its survival. My only interest is in the androids and the opportunity they present to test my strength. My only objective, right now, is to achieve Super Saiyan. I will not fail and I will return to fight the androids. Of that you have my word."

Bulma let out a long breath. It wasn't the most convincing proclamation ever to fall from a lover's lips, but Vegeta would be back, and at that moment, that was all she cared about.

With this fresh encouragement she gently touched his shoulder, massaging away the irritation she felt in the muscles there.

"Thank you," she whispered.

With speed beyond her vision Vegeta swept her feet away and stopped her descent a fraction before she hit the floor. "Save your thanks for an action worthy of it," he growled, pinning her to the floor with his weight.

"And what did you have in mind?"

"Nothing so easy," he snarled and once again their lips met. This time there was no resistance.

Vegeta would return. After Friday she would see him again, and it made his leaving a lot easier to accept with the calmness their casual relations warranted.

Whether or not they would resume their intimacy when he came back was still up in the air, but that didn't matter. What mattered was what was happening now. This could be one of the last moments of intimacy she shared with Vegeta, and Bulma was going to make damn sure she made the most of it.

The Saiyan made short work of removing her clothes and once he was finished she ran a finger over his bare chest, catching the sweat that still pooled over his abdomen.

"You need a shower," she chuckled.

"Later," he snapped, and then licked along the underside of her breasts.

She shuddered and moaned as his hands moved teasingly over her inner thigh. "No." She gestured in the direction of the bathroom. "Now."

His eyebrows flattened out and his mouth morphed into the most wondrous little, "Oh." He pushed his shorts over his athletically muscled thighs, and standing, pulled her up to his chest. "Maybe you're right," he admitted, and then he did the unthinkable. He pushed her away and strode arrogantly to the bathroom on his own.

"Hey! Aren't I allowed to help you with all the hard to reach places?"

He laughed at that, just enough wickedness to set her crotch on fire. "Do as you please."

With a squeal, Bulma did just that, and running after him she smacked him on the backside, skipping around his side to make it to the shower first. There was no chance to turn the water on. Twelve stone of Saiyan slammed into her front, pinning the shower curtain between her and the tiles.

Indignation was the look he sent, but the blush that stained his olive cheeks, belied the sentiment. "Don't ever do that again!" he shouted.

Bulma merely smiled and squared her jaw to him. "You mean this?" she asked smacking him a second time. To her amazement though his eyes no longer held anger and she felt him hardening against her thigh.

"Yes," he nodded, his voice not quite under control.

"Oh! I wouldn't dream of it."

Another smack.

Vegeta moaned and his lips wound a path up and down her neck. "Bitch!" he snarled against her throat.

"And your point is?"

Smack.

"Fucking bitch!" he roared, holding her against the tiles at arms length - then in a softer voice. "When the hell are you going to be sorry for doing this to me?"

"Just as soon as you tell me to stop," she laughed, taking his stirring desire into her hands and then, as soon as his hold on her slackened, her mouth.

Vegeta moaned, his hands flailing as he reached for the shower and switched the water on. It ran in rivulets over them both, making Bulma's hair stick to her skin and his. There were no orders for her to stop and cupping his scrotum, Bulma set a furious pace. She tempered this action with the occasional tap to his rear and was richly rewarded for her efforts. It figured that something like that would turn Vegeta on, and it didn't take long before he was pulling her away from his erection with flushed cheeks.

He grabbed a handful of her wet hair and pushed her forward against the tiles, thus leaving her entrance free from behind. He repaid her the arse smacking indignity ten fold, but with so much control and focus, that his super strength was kept at bay. The effect it had on Bulma was far from painful, especially when lathered better by his tongue.

She bucked and screamed as that appendage invaded her, and his thumb and forefinger flicked and tortured her clitoris though damp aquamarine curls. The air was moist as Bulma fought for control, taking large breaths as she felt the muted jolts of her impending climax. Another tap to her rear, pinch of her clitoris and swirl of his tongue, was all that was needed to take her screaming over the edge, and still her Saiyan lover wasn't satisfied.

He laid them both flat in the bottom of the shower, turning her the other way so that they could both give each other pleasure at the same time. Once again Bulma took him into her mouth and he regained his claim on her clitoris, this time sucking and licking it as his fingers gave her penetration. It felt as though his whole hand were inside her and she gasped as another climax hit through the spasms of her last.

Vegeta was almost purring in satisfaction as she licked and kissed along his penis, her lips stuttering and contracting as she came for the second time, and it proved more than his royal blood could take. With a grunt to restrain the acknowledgement of his pleasure, Vegeta released into her mouth and was unable to hide that his body was shaking under the gratification she gave.

They held onto each other under their combined orgasms, and much to Bulma's surprise, Vegeta continued to hold her, even when he had regained his senses. He reached long to the shelf, grabbing a bottle of shower gel and a sponge.

Daubing the pine scented liquid onto the foam he passed it to Bulma.

"You said something about all the hard to reach places," he reminded her. "Seeing as you're here you might as well make yourself useful."

It wasn't the time for indignation. He might have made it sound demeaning, but Bulma was more than willing to oblige. She lathered the gel over his shoulders, sweeping in a path down his back as they both got to their feet. The sponge teased through her fingers as she drew her own pattern across his chest and sides, copying the action with her free hand, for no other reason than to satisfy her desire for skin-to-skin contact.

Lower she went, trailing down each bronzed leg, to the pad of his feet and then up again - careful not to make contact with his rejuvenating desire. Vegeta watched her every movement, as though recording it to memory, and then reached out his hand to redirect her path to where he wanted it most - between his legs.

She allowed him the distraction and taking down the showerhead, rinsed the suds off him as the sponge satisfied him below. The water splashed between their bodies as he removed her hand from his groin and took the showerhead away.

"Your turn," he said.

In no time at all, the water was being directed to her most intimate area. It actually felt quite cool in conjunction with how much heat she held there. There was no hiding the blush that stained her cheeks as Vegeta moved the head over her clitoris and positioned himself at her entrance.

The sponge was still in his other hand and he swiped it over her breasts as he pushed into her. She panted to try and tame her lust, but being stimulated in three different places at the same time made it nigh on impossible. Her body was still receptive and stimulated from before, and she knew it wouldn't be long before she climaxed again. Vegeta on the other hand was another matter. The more he came the longer he could last the next time and Bulma knew she'd have to be working until late to make up for lost business hours.

She was right. Vegeta made her cum at least twice before he lost his much-coveted control and joined her in climax, and even then he didn't let up.

At some point during their coupling Vegeta had moved them out of the bathroom and they were now drip-drying together on his bedclothes as Bulma tried to catch her breath.

"What time is it?" she asked, wiping a tired hand over her face.

"Fuck knows."

"I wonder if Dad's finished yet."

Silence.

Undeterred Bulma turned onto her side. "Hey Vegeta. Why don't you come camping with me? Just for the two days. You never know, you might have fun."

He lazily glanced up at her. "Not likely."

She sighed, rolling off the bed and searching for her clothes. "Well at least I can say I tried."

The sheets rustled as Vegeta got up and joined her to look for his training shorts. It was kind of amusing seeing him searching on his hands and knees. He found them under the bed, and turning them out the right way, pulled them back over his thighs.

Bulma was pulling up her skirt when she caught him staring.

"Take a picture," she said with a smile and a wink.

He growled and took a few paces before staring again. There seemed to be something troubling him, almost as though he were trying to bring up a subject that he knew wasn't going to go down well. He repeated this a few times more while Bulma pulled her top back on and rearranged her hair into a messy bun.

"So are you going to tell me what's up or are you just going to pace back and forward until you explode?"

That got his attention. He squared his shoulders and crossed his arms as Bulma waited for an explanation.

"This situation," he began, gesturing to the rumpled bedclothes. "You are… comfortable with it?"

She thought for a moment. How did she answer in a way that would tell him she wouldn't mind its continuance after he returned and yet not sound too clingy? After all, this wasn't a serious situation. It was just a bit of fun, for both of them. Something to distract them from the pressures they were both under. Wasn't it?

"It's easy to be comfortable with a situation that isn't complicated, don't you think?"

He frowned - not the reaction Bulma was expecting - and then his lip curled. "Then I think you have something of a dilemma."

"Oh? In what way?"

"Your friends - they would complicate things if they knew. So would your ex-human lover, but lying to him. It makes you no better than him. Doesn't it?"

"Vegeta," she said, eager to understand his odd behaviour. "What are you trying to say? That I should tell Yamcha we've been sleeping together?"

His jaw clenched and much to Bulma's surprise he nodded.

"Well," she said, a little hesitantly. "Maybe you're right, but I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable with him knowing. Besides, isn't it irrelevant now? You'll be gone for the next god knows how many months anyway."

Vegeta shrugged his shoulders in a noncommittal way.

"You wouldn't mind Yamcha knowing then?" she asked, not willing to leave this conversation unexplored.

"The others. They are a different matter, but your human trash." He laughed, a wicked and cruel sound. "I don't think I would mind him knowing that I repeatedly fucked the only woman he ever truly loved."

"Arsehole!" she screamed throwing a pillow at him, but he dodged it easily and left the room, chuckling all the way.

Alone, Bulma wasn't sure how to feel. There was a lot to consider. No matter how he had covered the situation to satisfy his pride, Vegeta's message wasn't lost. He wanted Yamcha to know. Did she dare to hope it was for more reason than getting one up on her friend?

In the end she decided not to think on it. She had to get back to work and try and explain to her secretary why she had missed - she glanced at her cell phone - the last seven calls. The only thing she would concentrate on was the wonderful glow of post-sex, which surrounded her like a second skin of euphoria after - as Vegeta had so crudely put it - being fucked by her Saiyan prince.

"Damn," she swore under her breath, "I think I'm really going to miss the arrogant little shit when he's gone!"

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A/N - What can I do other than beg for forgiveness! I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. I had some real plot headaches. LisaB is the only one who truly knows how pivotal this chapter was. Lets just say - due to personal reasons - I had to re-write not just this chapter but also my notes for the rest of the story.

Thank you for everything Lisa… and may I forever remind you of breakfast cereal! *chuckles*