Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Taste of Heat ❯ Pushed off the couch AGAIN! ( Chapter 2 )

A Taste of Heat

By Trynia Merin

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z, Bulma or Vegeta or any of the characters here. Toriyama and Funimation and Toei Animation Co Ltd. Owns them. This is a work of fan fiction and is not meant to harm the series.

 

Rated R for adult situations and language.

This is a practice hentai fiction, with no real connection to any of my others. Basically it's my practice writing V/B lemons so if it's rough, think of it as a sketch.

***

 

"Jackass," Bulma cursed as Vegeta stuck his tongue out at her.

 

"I know you are but what am I?" he smugly responded.

 

"That's the LAST time I let you watch the satellite TV!" she snorted, annoyed he'd caught up on pop culture references.

 

"You're the bakka who wanted me to become well versed in this planet's culture, so don't blame me," Vegeta snickered.

 

"You're an asshole," she mumbled. "The Prince of ALL assholes…"

 

"Humph, no shit Wench, and don't you forget it," he smirked, stretching out on the sofa. She landed on the floor with an indignant yelp, and huffed as he grabbed the milkshake out of her hand.

 

"Dende, why do you have to steal my STUFF?"

 

"Because it's so fun to torment you," he shot back.

 

"That's mine! I've been busting my ass all week fixing your screw ups and you have the AUDACITY to horn in on my relaxation time!" she yelled, grabbing his knee and shoving down hard to pull herself to her feet. Unimpressed Vegeta gave her a bored look.

 

"So?" he asked. "I'm the one training to save this miserable rock ball from the androids. If anything you should be GLAD I'm staying here to protect your worthless lives…"

 

"Screw you Vegeta!" she screamed at him. "I've HAD it with your pissing all over me! I don't care who the hell you are!"

 

"What was that about screwing?" he lifted a brow, laughing at her standing over him.'

 

"Don't you DARE laugh at me, buster! I've HAD it!"

 

"I'm not the one who dressed me in that humiliating pink shirt," he shot back. "You think I ENJOY being stuck with you lower life forms?"

 

"Then LEAVE!" Bulma yelled. "Take Capsule 4 and get the HELL off this planet if you HATE us so much!"

 

"If there's one thing I've learned in this year living here amongst you primitives is that when you earth girls say one thing you mean the opposite, especially when you're angry," Vegeta taunted her, sitting up.

 

"Oooh!" she screamed and threw herself on him, hands flailing to smack his face. Unfortunately she miscalculated and landed flat on top of him, knocking the wind out of him with a grunt.

 

"Whoolf, what the HELL are you…" he gasped, and glanced up at her stammering and squirming on top of him. Pressing her hands against his chest she struggled to get up.

 

"Kuso… I… I…" she stammered, realizing she was dangerously close to sitting on a certain part of his anatomy. A flush of heat came between her legs as she tried to shift her weight off of him.

 

"That was the most pathetic attack in existence," he laughed up at her. "What are you trying to do, crush me under your fat butt?"

 

"Screw you!" she yelled. "Let me GO!"

 

"You're the one who threw yourself at me!" he grunted, struggling to get up off the sofa, but he was unable to lean up because she was struggling to get her balance. Under them both the sofa yielded, sucking them into its cushions like an amoeba.

 

"Am I interrupting something?" asked a voice that made Bulma want to shrink away.

 

"What the blazes do you want?" Vegeta asked as Bunny grinned down at them.

 

"Oh nothing… just bringing you some lemonade… I'll just leave you two alone!" she chirped, setting down the tray and rushing out with a high pitched tittering giggle.

 

"Shimatta!" Bulma moaned, wishing she could get off but Vegeta was blinking up at her in confusion as she pressed her hands to his chest.

 

"That mother of yours cannot be any way related to you! You must have been artificially inseminated!" he shook his head.

 

"Sometimes I wonder that myself…" she shook her head, gasping as sweat poured down her face from trying to get off Vegeta, but slipping and landing with her chest pressed to his.

 

"How the DEVIL do I get off this fricking sofa! It's a trap… deactivate it at once!" he snarled, unable to get the leverage to get out from under her. The next moment he managed to sit up, with Bulma sprawled across his legs. One was bent overtop his hip while the other was back a ways.

 

"OUCH!" she yelped. "My leg doesn't bend that way!"

 

"Stupid human weaklings," he grunted, grabbing her hips and lifting her easily off him. He planted her right next to him on the sofa, and then grabbed a glass of ice cold lemonade to hide the faint blush behind.

 

"Why didn't you do that in the first place?" she mumbled, drowning her hot flush in an ice cold glass herself. Something made her tongue tingle, down her spine to her toes.

 

"Alcohol," Vegeta said, sniffing and making a face. "Does your mother wish to make me intoxicated?"

 

"I guess," she giggled, not wanting to move because she felt strangely awkward and giddy. She crossed her legs and sat on the sofa, wondering why she was staying here.

 

"You may sit here if you wish," he mumbled. "I suppose I can tolerate your company…"

 

"Gee thanks a million, your Royal Whyness," she snorted.

 

"You're welcome, blue Wench," he smirked, leaning back and then setting his feet on her lap.

 

"HEY!" she yelped, feeling his calves resting across her crossed knees.

 

"Much more comfortable," he snickered, and settled down to watch the television. Trapped there by his muscular thighs, Bulma groaned inwardly. More heat pooled between her thighs. Vegeta's nose twitched and he opened his eyes to look up at her.

 

"I… um… just realized you asked me to fix the GR…" she stammered, realizing he must have smelled her arousal. Shaking, she saw the look of confusion in his dark eyes. Vegeta straightened up a bit, and sniffed closer.

 

"Hmm, you smell different human," he said.

 

"Please… let me up… move your damn legs…" she gasped, pushing them off.

 

"What the hell is this?" he asked, pointing to her lap. "You're soaking your shorts…"

 

"Don't ask… it's none of your damn business," she yelped, leaping up. His hand caught her wrist, tugging her down to sit next to him again.

 

"I didn't think human females got wet there. I suppose I was hasty in my assessment. Because it doesn't smell like sweat. Is that why that old pervert's always trying to steal women's underwear?" Vegeta asked.

 

"I… why are you asking me THAT? I thought you couldn't STAND humans!" she yelped.

 

"Since YOU invited me to stay, it's YOUR job to tell me about the culture of this miserable planet," Vegeta said sternly. "That includes everything that might be of interest…"

 

"Just… let me go okay… this is EMBARASSING!"

 

"Obviously it has everything to do with you being in heat," said Vegeta. "I assume females have a cycle on this world… because you don't smell like…"

 

"It's a highly personal thing okay…" she blushed.

 

"Humph, so you say. It's rather curious you always rush off to your bed chamber whenever…"

 

"VEGETA!" she shouted. "Knock it off!"

 

"You're perfectly content to ask ME about embarrassing things, Wench. What makes THIS different?" he snorted.

 

"Don't you have training to do?" she asked.

 

"Already done. I'm observing ningen culture as asinine as it is…" he snorted indignantly. "It's not for YOU to tell me what the hell I should do!"

 

"You never gave a shit before about females," she snorted.

 

"And you're parading around like you're in heat. Whenever I see you you're wearing those tight revealing clothes. Yet I've not seen that baka suitor of yours… which you haven't mated yet…"

 

"That's NONE of your business…" she huffed.

 

"You have shitty standards for mate selection," he grunted. "Obviously you would have mated him by now if he had been acceptable. Or is protracted courtship practiced in some…"

 

"I'm not a fricking specimen!"

 

"Your father treats me as such, and I'm observing YOU now," Vegeta chuckled. "Besides that smell is driving me insane…"

 

"Then let me up, butt head and I'll get out of your face!" she snorted.

 

"You want help?" he asked. "How do you normally relieve…"

 

"WHAT? You want to help me?" she asked, jolting. "Why?"

 

“Because I want to, do I NEED another reason?” Vegeta asked her.

 

“I… I… um… well…” Bulma stammered. Cocking a dark brown, Vegeta observed how she was rendered speechless at that moment.

 

“You've been in bloody heat for the last few months and the smell is making me annoyed, so either let me satiate this urge or stay out of my proximity. It's distracting,” he said.

 

“Why would YOU care?” she asked.

 

“Because I won't get a moment's peace if I don't,” said Vegeta. “And I'm curious… if Saiyan females and ningens are so alike. Because that moisture makes you smell Saiyan…”

 

“Ugh… I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you!” she winced. Vegeta gently dragged her into his lap, holding her down with one arm.

 

“I'm not going to KILL you, stupid wench,” he said quietly.

 

“I'm not some pleasure toy you can play with, your Majesty,” she said angrily, trying to smack him.

 

“I didn't say you WERE, wench,” he retaliated. “I'd be blind or stupid not to notice the effect I have upon you, and it's rather interesting…”

 

“Arrogant prick!”

 

“Takes one to know one,” he smugly chortled, earning him a slap across the face. Bulma instantly regretted it because her hand stung as if she'd hit a wall.

 

“Owch!”

 

“Settle down, wench. I give you my word as the Prince of All Saiyans that I won't hurt you. Let me assist you in relieving yourself of this tension and I might just be a little more tolerable… what one must do to… prevent this scent from accumulating…”

 

“You're serious that you want to… help me?” she blinked. “I thought you despised me.”

 

“I hate everyone, but you I can remotely stand. Besides, maybe you'll stop pining over that useless suitor of yours if you have some relief… and I'm NOT talking about doing anything that involves… breeding…”

 

“Okay, jerk, since you said so, go right ahead,” she snorted. “If you think you'd be any better at… I mean how would YOU know anything about females?”

 

“Pleasure slaves?” he said. “No, seriously, that doddering old man and his magazines have some use… and those ridiculous pleasure slave movies have me intrigued…”

 

“That's NOT how it's done!” she yelped.

 

“Then explain?” he said.

 

“HERE?”

 

“Of course not HERE,” he snorted, helping her up. “Someplace more appropriate.”

 

Not believing her ears, she got up on shaky legs and let him take her by the hand. With her shaking fingers clenched in his white gloved hand she let him lead her towards the guest wing where he had his room. Yamucha's room upstairs was directly next to hers, yet she hardly said two words to him. He had no other place to live at the time, and he was mostly gone at Kame house or some other woman's place when he wasn't there. In a huff he'd left after she refused to go to a concert with him, saying she'd have to foot the bill.