Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Cold Comfort for Bulma ❯ Bulma's lemony massage ( Chapter 13 )

Cold Comfort

Massage of a more intimate sort

 

Disclaimer I don't own Dragon Ball Z. Toriyama does, and Funimation controls the rights. I only am writing this as a work of fan fiction and I don't expect to many any money. It's for entertainment only and means no harm to the series!

 

This is the MA or NC 17 LEMON version! Don't read if you're not the appropriate age!

 

By Trynia Merin

***

Two weeks had passed since the attempt on Bulma's life and the robbery. Ginger had been prosecuted and sentenced to a copious amount of years in prison for breaking and entering and attempted murder. The trial was quick and decisive, with Vegeta taking the witness stand on Bulma's behalf. Any doubts Dr. Briefs and his wife had regarding Vegeta's allegiance were allayed. In their eyes the Saiyan Prince had saved their daughter's life and defended Capsule. So in their book he was a good egg.

 

Since then, Bulma continued much of her previous rituals. Once every week Bulma lay down across the leather table and rested her chin on the padding. A hole in the table was lined with a soft bean filled pillow. Across her back was draped a white sheet, covering her nudity. Bulma knew that the masseuses at the Day spa were paid well to not make sexual advances on their clients. To do so would cost them their licenses.

 

A hissing scrape was accompanied by the smell of sulfur from a lit match. Soon the scent of apple blossoms obscured it, wafting from the scented candle that Mr. Coconut had lit. His hands were well conditioned and remarkably soft, not callused like others. He cracked his knuckles, and decided to start with his usual routine.

 

“Mmm, so how tense will you be today, Ms. Briefs?” he asked. Being a figurehead for the company had its perks. Also its drawbacks. Namely huge amounts of tension that Mr. Coconut constantly worked out of her body.

 

“I'm not surprised if I'm still tied up in knots, Mr. Coconut,” she commented, dropping her arms to succumb to gravity. Soft oils touched her skin as Mr. Coconut started at her neck, with shiatsu pressures. He worked along one arm, then the other first, kneading out the accumulated tension of the week.

 

She enjoyed her times at the Malibu Day Spa. From backrubs to mud baths the place provided every means of relaxation for the upper crust of West City. Bulma's mother Bunny had first brought Bulma here for her 15th birthday. Ever since then Bulma relied on the staff to take her away from the rigors of society life and being the Vice President elect of Capsule. When she had returned from Namek her father had appointed her as his successor to help take on the running of his corporation. Between that and the GR repairs her hands were full. Not to mention the many dinners and parties she was expected to play hostess at.

 

 

“Well well, you seem a lot less… tight today. You love life improved?” he asked.

 

“Why does EVERYONE ask me that,” she groaned, burying her face in the hole designed for that purpose.

 

Yamcha had called a few days later from Aloha City saying he had taken a trip with Shandi. When he heard about the robbery he had sent several letters of apology. Bulma had promptly sent them back unopened, refusing to even read them. Any calls he made were answered by her secretary with a terse report that Bulma was not available. So Yamcha found out through Mrs. Briefs that they were all alive and well thanks to Vegeta's intervention. As a result, Yamcha decided it was a good idea not to call back. He assumed then that Bulma had made her choice, and concocted the whole robbery as a story to explain her choice of Vegeta over him. Just how foolish an oversight this would be Yamcha wouldn't discover till much later.

 

 

A shrill tone interrupted his practice. “Excuse me,” he said. “Ever since Inga and Raphael quit, it's been hard to find replacements…”

 

“Go answer it,” Bulma sighed. “Don't' worry, I'll just chill here.”

 

Apologetically Mr. Coconut left the room. She could tell by the movement of air, and the creak of a door hinge. A loud thump and a click indicated he had closed the door behind him.

 

For at least a half hour Bulma lay there, hearing the soft classical music emanating from the big bucks sound systems. More apple spice permeated the room, hanging thick and choking.

 

Bulma was furious that Yamcha would even think her capable of inventing a story to slander his friend. Hurt and upset, she severed all communication with him till he apologized for the accusations. Shandi had him completely snowed. How involved was she in the plot? For the immediate future Bulma kept a private investigator on the case to observe Yamcha and Shandi's movements lest they threaten Capsule. Fortunately all he had reported back were tales of Yamcha's fun in the sun with Shandi, nothing more suspicious then his usual hanky panky.

 

She mused all these developments while resting there. What a fool her ex had turned out to be. Would she forgive him. Not likely. For a while she seemed to doze, till she heard the creak and click of the door.

 

Bulma naturally assumed it was Mr. Coconut who had returned. There was no grunt, or apology, just simple footfalls and the click of the door shutting. A rasping scrape told her he had engaged the deadbolt. Bulma said, “Well that wasn't too long. What are you waiting for, I've been patient.”

 

“Humph,” Mr. Coconut grunted.

 

“Well, get to work,” she sighed. A soft rustling was heard, and she figured it was Mr. Coconut putting more oil on his hands.

 

Soft practiced hands kneaded up and down Bulma's back. She let out a low moan at the sensation. Arching on the table, she raised her butt like a cat, only to feel someone push her back down with a hand at the small of her back. Fingertips slid between the towel and her tailbone, rubbing lightly down the cheeks of her backside.

 

Two thumbs rubbed up the crease of her spine to the nubs, then fanned out over her shoulder blades. At the tips of them came a light-crackling tingle much like warmth. Just how the masseuse was able to do that sort of thing, she wondered?

 

“Mmm, you'll get an extra tip for that, Mr. Coconut,” she cooed. Light blows of the edge of two hands came next to ease up the deep penetration. Next soft feathering touches barely brushed her relaxed muscles.

 

“Humph,” came a grunt in return that sounded unfamiliar.

 

“Mr. Coconut, something happened to your voice?” she asked.

 

“Nuh uh,” mumbled the response in the negative. Bulma was tempted to turn over at the sudden familiar sense.

 

“Mr. Coconut, that IS you, I hope.”

 

A mischievous chuckle answered her. Panicking, Bulma rolled over. Her sheet tipped precariously off her nude body. With an indignant yelp she crossed her arms over her breasts. Fear gave way to relief, then anger when she saw who was there. Especially when the hands in question were busy pulling on a pair of white gloves.

 

“Wondered how long it would take you to notice idiot,” Vegeta laughed.

 

“You son of a BITCH!” she gasped. “I've got NOTHING on!”

 

“As if I'd care what your hideous body looks like anyhow,” he said, averting his gaze by looking at the seems on his right glove. His other hand snatched the sheet and tossed it at her quickly so it landed over her head and shoulders.

 

“Thanks BUNCHES, Vegeta,” she answered.

 

“You ought to be thanking me for sullying my hands on such a low class service, Bulma,” he answered. Bulma hitched the sheet around her like a toga, and leapt off the table.

 

“Thank you, but where the HELL is Mr. Coconut?” she asked.

 

“Beats the hell out of me, Bulma,” Vegeta snorted disinterested. “I was just wondering when you could take time out of your oh so fucking busy schedule to make some repairs?”

 

“That's all you think about, sheesh,” she mumbled, noticing he was still not looking directly at her. Especially since he had turned his back to her with his arms folded across his white armored chest. To her joy the design was the new suit she'd given him as a Christmas present the month before.

 

“And I'm supposed to believe you have no time when you said you were busy? I don't like it when people bullshit me, Bulma. Especially you,” he grunted.

 

“I was trying to RELAX, Vegeta. You as a Prince should know that there were times when even YOU had your own `massage' by your damn pleasure slaves, right?”

 

“True, but I always stuck by my schedule, unlike you,” he answered.

 

“You know my schedule well enough. Otherwise how would you know how to find me, huh?” she challenged him.

 

“I found you by your dismally small ki, actually,” he answered, only partly glancing at her. “For Legendary's sake put some fucking CLOTHES on, you low class female!”

 

She grabbed the robe he tossed her, quickly slipping it on. The sheet dropped around her ankles, and she bent down to pick it up. Giving Vegeta a very nice shot of her cleavage. A slight pink blush crept across his tanned cheeks before he abruptly turned his back on her again. Nice of him to preserve her modesty.

 

“I'm not a fucking pervert, so don't even give me shit about wanting to see your ugly body,” he mumbled.

 

“Well why did you give me a backrub otherwise, huh?”

 

“I like shocking the shit out of you. It's one of the highlights of my day,” he answered, turning around to face her again with a smirk. It quickly disappeared at the warm smile on her face.

 

“Aww Princey you're just being a gentleman, how sweet,” she said, walking up to him and laying her hands on his shoulders.

 

“Stop hanging on me, Bulma, you know I fucking HATE that,” he grunted, but didn't brush her hands away. Yet he enjoyed secretly the feel of her hands running up and down his spandex covered muscles. Leaning over she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her robed body to his despite the fact that his muscular arms blocked her rounded breasts.

 

“Then why are you trying so hard to stop me, huh?” she teased, turning her head to one side to give him a soft kiss.

 

“Because it's the only way you'll shut up,” he answered before her lips sealed his off. He stood there teasingly keeping his lips shut, and she grunted with frustrating to try and get a rise out of him.

 

“I won't shut up if you'd open your damn mouth and kiss me like I showed you a million times, you dork,” she grumbled.

 

“Your foolish customs are beneath me,” he answered with another smirk. “IT will take far more than your petty manipulations to influence my iron clad control.”

 

“Just you wait, buster,” Bulma snorted, leaning forward to lick the spot under his left ear. It was a game they sometimes played, where Vegeta would pretend to be so prim and proper, and Bulma would try her damnedest to arouse him. It was a fun task to see what lengths she'd go to cause him to cave, and it sometimes lasted hours. Vegeta would stand as still as a statue, letting Bulma do whatever she wished. To caress, stroke and knead his hard muscles or any other petting. As she tried to unfasten the straps on his armor, his gloved hand lightly slapped hers away.

 

“It stays on. You know the rules,” Vegeta scolded her with a low growl more like a purr in his deep voice.

 

“Spoilsport!” Bulma snapped.

 

“Below the belt we said. I want to see if you have what it takes to bring the Saiyan Prince into heat, Bulma,” he taunted her. Now he kept his hands at his sides, glancing down without moving a muscle lower then his collarbone. Bulma dropped to her knees, caressing his arms then sliding her hands around to squeeze his spandex clad ass. He didn't so much as twitch, simply cackling evilly down at his woman redoubling her efforts. Darting her hands around to his front, she slid her fingers into his pants and reached for another very erogenous zone.

 

Lightly she tugged his pants down to his knees, and began to nip on his inner thigh. Her fingers temporarily darted over his cock and scrotum, before moving back to his hips. Hot breath fanned him, and then he stood with his legs slightly apart while keeping his gaze straight ahead. To her frustration the snake didn't so much as twitch. Up and down his outer thighs she nipped and scratched, almost unable to make a mark on his hard dense flesh. Hands massaged his backside and sculpted thighs while she rubbed her cheek to his flaccid cock. Cool fingers rubbed gently up and down the only soft place on his body while he stood rigid.

 

Fingers of one glove twisted into her blue locks, securing her head in place. Bulma slipped her mouth over his tip, lightly stroking with bare fingers. The other massaged the leatherlike scrotum, finally feeling the most negligible twitch. A low rumbling purr echoed at the limits of her hearing, telling her she was finally getting to him. A bolt of arousal spread through her when she felt his hardening cock starting to fill her mouth. Lightly she licked along the titanium shaft covered in skin soft as suede, then breathed through her nose. Quick movements of her mouth caused the length to firm up, and she heard his purring increase in volume while his fingers tugged at her hair.

 

“Whatever control you have I've given you,” he snickered.

 

“Dream on. I've still got you by the balls,” she chuckled, rubbing his sac and then taking him in her mouth. For a long while she suckled and kneaded, trying to bring him further along. Yet as son as his cock stood up it remained now as hard as the rest of him.

 

“You can't wait to be fucked. I can smell your own heat,” he breathed, holding the back of her neck. Bulma removed her mouth, and then kissed her way up, grabbing his wrist to pull herself up. Vegeta released her hair, letting his hand fall down. Not bothering to touch her he observed her like a predator with dark bottomless eyes of midnight.

 

“Jerk, you COULD let me take the armor off,” she grumbled. Vegeta's gloved hands grasped her wrists, and then placed them on the chestplate of his armor. He jerked her body forwards so it slammed into his hard armored chest. The contrast of terrycloth to hard dense armor was as marked as the delicate structure of her human body to his Saiyan one.

 

“A Prince doesn't let his guard down, Bulma,” he purred into her ear. His arms latched around to grab her hips now, trapping her in his muscular grip. Bulma groaned at the pressure of his cock to her hip then lifted one left to draw the inner surface of her thigh up the bare skin of his exposed outer leg. Only from the waist down was there blistering heat, interrupted by the hard cold armor. One gloved hand lifted her butt by cupping it, while the other seized her face. His mouth tracked over hers, and then his teeth found her sensitive ear. Sharply his fangs nipped at the indentation he had made before, where the cartilage caved a bit. Blood dribbled from her lobe, lapped up by his soft tongue and volcanic breath shivering her unprotected nape.

 

Bulma lifted her hips, letting him place his cock in the moistening furrow between her ivory thighs. With a purr Vegeta lifted her with one hand, so she could wrap her other leg around his waist. Instead of entering her, Vegeta snickered and dragged his cock back and forth in her moist dew.

 

“You tease,” she gritted, feeling the exquisite torture of him anywhere but where she most wanted.

 

“I know you are, but what am I,” he mocked, and then Bulma leaned forward and seized his bottom lip with her teeth. Vegeta chuckled, letting her kiss him as he drew her close. He released her arms to let her wrap them around his neck, and then placed his other hand around her backside. Forward movements of his hips teased her to a slick flood that seeped down them both. Then he lifted Bulma slightly. She buried her face in his neck as she raised her hips, and felt his sharp thrust in.

 

“Ow you're too damn big,” she complained.

 

“Ungrateful female,” he chided, moving in, and then drawing till only his tip was present. Bulma braced her hands on his muscular forearms to hold herself out. He smirked at her attempts to tease him when he tried to push himself in.

 

“You could kiss me, jerk,” she mumbled. Vegeta did not stop her as she covered his mouth in a kiss, and let him lower her down with a sigh of relief. His lips parted, as she allowed him to continue slow teasing thrusts. Each sharp push parted her deeper then allowed him to snap sharply forward to fully imbed himself within.

 

Clumsily his mouth moved past hers, while she nipped his tongue. She inhaled his hot breath, moaning with the next few jolts. He was holding back a mammoth amount of power, showing her just how much control he had so she wouldn't break. For a moment she forgot the sharpness of her teeth while she thrust her tongue against his. An iron taste erupted on her palate, and she broke the kiss with a cry.

 

“Oww damn it, your teeth are fucking SHARP!” she mumbled.

 

“That's one reason your fool custom is not practiced by Saiyans,” he chuckled. Bulma was all set to yell at him making fun of her, but Vegeta lightly seized her lower lip in his teeth, and then lightly covered her mouth in a surprisingly timid kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, stroking against the wound while he kissed her and pulled the blood into his mouth. Soon the bleeding was stanched, and Bulma felt the sharp pain tingling away.

 

All the while his thrusts bucked up with increasing force. Bulma relaxed her muscles, letting herself move with the Saiyan Prince. Low moans came from the kiss, and then she surfaced for air. It was very rare for Vegeta to undress completely lately, and even when they had the fortune to share a bed, he wore at least boxers and a T-shirt. It was rare for him to show any skin unless training and he limited the touch of her skin to his. Vegeta touched on his terms, and it seemed a miracle that he even was allowing the sex. The low purr rumbled through her as Bulma rocked along with him. She came to her first crushing orgasm with a cry of bliss.

 

“Let me go, and hold my hands,” she whispered. “This is fun.”

 

“Proceed, Bulma,” he grunted; releasing her hips so she could slide one foot, then the other to brace on his chest. He clasped her hands in his gloved ones, letting her walk up his chest and slid her knees over his broad shoulders. With her weight she slammed down her pelvis atop him.

 

“Ahh, ohhh,” she gasped.

 

“Continue… this… game… it's most… interesting,” Vegeta grunted, rocking his hips again.

 

Just then he stopped, letting out a low growl. Angrily he stabbed deep, and then erupted with a spurt inside. Bulma blinked at him, asking, “So soon?”

 

“We are not alone,” Vegeta answered.

 

“Oh my GOD, I forgot… the massage… oh SHIT!” she gasped.

 

“You had best get dressed. I shall deal with this,” Vegeta answered.

 

“Oh no you DON'T! I don't want Mr. Coconut reduced to a pile of ashes!” Bulma argued, feeling his ejaculate seep down her thighs. “Damn it, Vegeta, why do you have to cum so much!”

 

“Stupid pain in the ass,” Vegeta grumbled, pulling his pants up and readjusting his gloves. “Now you know why I remain dressed!”

 

Before she could protest Vegeta shoved a bundle of her clothes into her arms, and her purse, then leaned down to pick her up. “HEY where are you taking me!” she gasped.

 

“To finish in private!” Vegeta growled. “Before I hurt someone!”