Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ How to Make Love to a Saiyan ❯ Fly Away ( Chapter 14 )

Disclaimer: Whatever, I own Vegeta.

 

How to Make Love to a Saiyan

 

Chapter 14

 

Step 15 - Fly Away

 

 

“Oh… bubbles! How delightful.” A heavy blonde woman exclaimed in delight, clasping her chubby hands in front of her. She was one of many others gazing wide-eyed at the iridescent orbs that floated around the hall.

 

Mrs. Briefs picked up the jolly murmur wafting through the crowd that was gathered for the cocktail party and beamed at her daughter with her own brand of excitement. “Well, I am glad you stopped being so difficult and ended up using my idea. Look at how people love it. I just can't understand what's had you in such a funk these past few weeks.” Her warbling morphed into a soft reprimand. “Now tell me what kind of person says no to bubbles. Just look at how they catch the light.”

 

Bulma jerked in her seat and grimaced. “Yamcha…” She hissed in mild annoyance, twisting her neck around to eye him severely “Stop it…”

“What dear?” Her mother asked, perking up in her direction. She had been pawing the bubbles like a kitten at play with the butterflies in the menagerie. “What did you say?”

 

Bulma slapped Yamcha's hand away, which had been slinking around her waist and tickling her stomach. She then refocused on her mother's bright expression. “Oh, the bubbles. Well, I just couldn't take one more word about how amazing they'd be and how lustrous and pretty and bouncy. So in the end I figured I really didn't care. I hope you're happy mamma.” She slanted bitter eyes in the direction of a couple of acne-riddled teenagers garbed in black vests. “Those kids back there operating that machine have been blowing them in my face all day nonstop. To me, quite honestly, they're just fucking ridiculous.”

 

Dr. Brief's coughed in his fist, his glasses jogging over his nose. “Well, honey what in the world. What did we teach you about good manners?”

 

Yamcha tilted his head back and looked at her in bewilderment. “Your dad's right, baby. Just what's gotten into you? If we were in school I'd say you've been hanging around the bad crowd.” His comment was light but she could still pick up a hint of genuine disapproval in it. She'd never been completely proper, but truth was she could tell just how much of Vegeta had truly rubbed off on her. She absently wondered if others guessed at such a simple equation, that she and he had become tremendously familiar with each other and that she'd started to sound very much like the Saiyan.

 

Yamcha tightened his hold around her, a hand anchoring on her hip and squeezing her softly.

 

“Yamcha.” She lowered her voice so it was only audible to him. She pried his fingers away while squirming in the crook of his arm. She shouldn't have been so surprised at his playful touch, not after the way she let him on earlier that night but her body wasn't responding the same way it did with a certain someone. She wanted it to, and maybe in time it would but for now she was glad he'd withdrawn his arm to merely lay it over her narrow shoulders.

 

It was good he was always so easily controlled, she mused, toying with the delicate portions of finger food displayed on the table they sat at. There was no question she was the one with the strongest will and thus the one to always call the shots in their relationship, both in and out of bed. It took one screech from her well-endowed vocal chords to see him cringe and shrink away into a well domesticated creature who stuttered his replies at half the speed she dished her own. But wasn't that nice and simple? Definitely simple. That was the key word to describe life as it transpired with him. She nearly always decided when they got to be intimate and once in the throws of passion it was she who dictated the pace, acting as the sole conductor of her well regimented life. The world at his side was safe, easy and sensible. It posed no threat to her in any way whatsoever. His touch was the gentlest, his disposition always to please her and her will his command. If she said no, his hand retreated, and if he was the one in need of her favors, his palms were both probing and tentative.

 

He always asked for permission.

 

Bulma's mind drifted off into a turbulent tangent, reliving in vivid memory the sound of ragged panting and the feel of scorching sweat-slicked flesh that always accompanied her encounters with the Prince. He didn't know what asking for permission was. He merely took. He was a tempest, a strong wind that devoured everything in his wake with acute precision. He knew how to make a girl acquiesce to his demands, not because he imposed himself on her, but because he made her want to. He had a way of inspiring dark, raw desires that stripped her of her bindings and left her nothing but a woman. That's how she felt when he looked at her, when he touched her, a full-blown woman, completely desired and thoroughly fucked.

 

Bulma closed her eyes in remembrance, her eyelids trembling minutely. Being in bed with him was the antonym of gentle and simple; it was an explosion that came in waves of hyper sensation. It was completely indecent and utterly dirty. There was no holding back, no inhibitions, and that's exactly why he was so dangerous. He made her act vulgar and low between the covers until she caught herself playing slave to his desires, eager to meet his sinful demands. He made her fuck, not make love, and wasn't that somehow proverbially wrong?

 

She cleared her throat and sipped on her champagne, letting her troubled gaze wander over the others sitting at the lavish table.

 

They had no idea who she really was, just like Vegeta had said to her weeks ago. They couldn't understand the exhilaration of having a nuclear bomb between her thighs or the rush of adrenaline that coursed through her veins at the thought of such a powerful creature making her his. He could destroy entire worlds and yet he was careful when handling her. He was a master of control, skillful enough to treat her delicately even in the midst of his burning caresses. He handled her like she was spun out of porcelain and still slid into her with the force needed to make her head spin.

 

She darted a sideways glance in Yamcha's direction as he popped a tiny appetizer in his mouth. Could she go back to her ex-boyfriend now after having tasted the thick sugary taste of sin? She averted her eyes and dipped her head slightly. All she knew was these past few weeks her brain insisted on whirling around thoughts of Vegeta. She was still crushed, much to her misfortune, that thirsty need for him far from quelled. The thought alone drove her to dig her perfectly polished nails into her palms until she thought she'd bleed. Potent waves of frustration crashed over her mercilessly, strangling her ego with the force of vicious snakes.

 

Her experiment had gone all wrong, and she probably deserved such calamity anyway. She had originally wanted to sleep with him to satisfy her curiosity and get it out of her system but she had grossly miscalculated the implications. She had ended up deeply entangled with him, owner of a twisted secret that tied them together in a dark unbreakable bond. What the hell had he turned her into? The curse cast over her with his deep masculine voice lingered, whispering tempting nothings to her soul. He said he was going to own her in mind and body. He was going to fuck her senseless, and she was going to be the one to gladly give it all.

 

The worse was instead of being pleased he had vanished into the night three weeks ago, she had often lounged about consumed in memories and wistful thoughts. She'd daydreamt; pretty much like she used to back when she was plotting what she thought would be HIS fall. Her brain often swam in thoughts of what he liked and disliked or the various little things she now knew about him that made her smile like an idiot. Leather bracelets were inexorably cool because Vegeta had occasionally worn them. Double toasted nut and caramel mochachinnos, once her favorites, were now decidedly stupid because he'd once said they were disgustingly sweet and mundanely redundant. A particular song was on her playlist because she'd caught him oddly immersed in it as he sat on her bed polishing his boots. He'd looked so pensive that day…

 

She felt Yamcha's arm pulling her tighter, springing her out of her random ruminations. Bulma's mother beamed at them both from across the table. “It has been forever since I'd seen you two in the same room.”

 

Yamcha merely smiled and lifted his glass. “Well, here's to unexpected things…”

 

Bulma fixed her eyes on his lips as they widened in joyous disposition. Her parents followed his lead and raised their golden beverages before looking at her expectantly. It took her a few seconds to realize she was the only one caught in a peculiar trance, a huge dissonance to the joviality of the moment.

 

“Oh…” She wrapped her dainty hand around the flute and brought it up to eye level. “Sure, to unexpected things.”

 

They echoed her words, took a sip at their champagne and chuckled at one another. “It has been the most incredible evening so far, everything so orderly and refined.” Her father stated, a gentle smile creasing his aging face. “It is a pity Vegeta missed out on it though. When he talked to me about fine tuning a few things so he could take the ship away, I didn't think he'd be gone for so long.”

 

Bulma choked on her drink, feeling it bubble up her nose. “What?” She croaked “You got to speak with him before he left?”

 

“Well of course.” His father responded. “Hadn't I mentioned it? I thought he had actually spoken to you too.”

 

“No… I, he didn't.” So he'd spoken to her father and not her. Something thrashed inside her chest at the mere mention of her lover's name. She silently berated herself for somehow caring that the jerk hadn't even left her a message. It was obvious he didn't feel the need to run his plans by her. No one could control him.

 

“I don't think he took off into space though” Her father went on. “He merely capsulated the ship and lifted off into the horizon. You know him, a lone wolf who moves to his own tune. The boy is a jerk, but I surely respect his strength of character.”

 

Yamcha stiffened and frowned at her parents. She could almost feel his uneasiness escalating at the mere mention of his arch nemesis. They went back quite a few months him and Vegeta, and their rivalry transcended what was easily discernible. Nothing could blot out the fact that he'd tasted the raw acrid flavor of death, perhaps the most traumatic event any human could suffer, and it was all his doing. It was all due to the man she'd been fff…

 

“It might be best if he never comes back.” He stated sourly, jarring her out of her unsettling thoughts. “He is a very dangerous creature after all and I am sure you don't actually believe he likes any of us that much, do you?”

 

Well he certainly likes me quite a bit. He is very acquainted with your ex-girlfriend.

 

Bulma squeezed a napkin, her eyes restless at the realization of the monumental truth people were oblivious to.

 

“Aw, well, let me tell you something…” Bulma's mother leaned her satin clad arms on the edge of the table and fixed a clear blue stare on her. “We mammas have a good instinct when it comes to sizing up men. It's something I pride myself on and that's how I am able to bet on a simple fact. He would never lift a finger to hurt a single pet in this household. I'd go as far as to say any woman brave enough to win his heart is actually incredible lucky.”

 

Yamcha eyed her in poorly veiled disconcert, taking in her diaphanous beauty and her perturbing words. It was an odd mix that instilled him with a sense of dread. “Mrs. Briefs….” He started, unable to go anywhere.

 

Bulma bit her lower lip and dragged her gaze down. “You don't know what you're saying mamma. You don't know him.”

 

“Oh I believe I know more than you think.” She leaned back, her red lips spreading into a perfect smile. “A man that strong would love fiercely and with no reservations. He would hold nothing back, and mark my words Bulma. He would lay down his life if necessary for whoever owns his heart. There is nothing he wouldn't sacrifice.”

 

Bulma only stared back at her mother, a strange numbness overtaking her. Her words wrapped around her soul like drapes of silk but also stabbed like pointed thorns. She absently wondered who'd be the incredible creature to conquer his soul, the one to wrap a storm around her finger and hold its prowess in the palm of her hand.

 

“And it doesn't hurt to know a simple truth. What's wild and untamable in public, is wild and untamable in private too.” She added with a grin, making Bulma's cheeks flare up to a rosy hue.

 

Yamcha had grown unnaturally tense, his entire body language squirmy and uncomfortable.

 

Her father, used to her mother's candid nature, only laughed, grazing a thumb lovingly down the peachy softness of her cheek.

 

Bulma wondered at the truth of her mother's abilities, her alleged sixth sense when it came to men. Her words swirled in her mind batting away relentlessly. Was there a chance for someone, some other woman to win his heart? Some stupid bitch from another planet? Small indentations formed between her eyebrows as she reflected on the sour truth of her situation. He probably deemed her too weak and low class to ever be more to him than a slave, a consort from an inferior race, but never his equal. Who would that “lucky girl” be? That sublime and unfathomable being that would hold him hostage forever? And why the devil was she even thinking about this anyway?

 

“I don't know Mrs. Briefs. It's a good thing no woman from earth would be crazy enough to mess with someone like Vegeta.” Yamcha muttered bleakly, the heat of his gaze on Bulma's profile. She turned her head to meet his eyes straight on, oddly compelled to say something, anything, she didn't know what, and then, right that moment the gentle sounds of the string quartet drowned away.

 

“And now, our gracious hostess, Miss Bulma Briefs, will take the stand and offer a few words to our distinguished guests.” The enthusiastic invitation segued into the generalized clapping of the guests. The whole evening had truly been about this moment, every ceremonial minute slowly leading to it. She was to speak before the stockholders and formally announce what everybody already knew, that Capsule Corporation was bigger than ever now and that it'd entered into a strategic partnership with Viored Corp., major firearms conglomerate. Then she'd chant a string of facts and figures that would leave the puffed up attendants day-dreaming about their bulging bank accounts.

 

She rose in a cloud of expectant stares that followed her fixedly as she made her way up to the podium. Her movements were lithe and graceful like those of a ballerina, folds of shimmering white swaying lightly with every step she took until slim fingers adjusted the microphone. The screeching of the device pierced through her ears, making her wince.

 

Her heart pumped strongly and her chest reverberated like thunder. Their eyes were all on her, cold and unreadable, the silence deafening as they witnessed the president's daughter first public speech on behalf of the entire board of directors and major decision makers. She swallowed hard but her placid expression not once flickered, the diamonds shining on her ears adding to the icy perfection of her semblance.

 

“I am very delighted to be able to speak to you tonight and I certainly hope you've enjoyed the evening as much as I have.” She lied. There were a few nods as they remained fixed on the cornerstone of the organization. She gestured delicately towards her right. “As you all know, we are joined here tonight by our newest partners, now members of the ever-growing Capsule Corporation family. This most important joint venture will be responsible for the opening of more than five thousand new jobs in the first trimester, not counting the figures that have been issued as projections of…”

 

Bulma's entire frame froze and her eyes widened to disproportionate lengths. The powerful beating of her heart stopped and the earth ceased to spin on its axis. “of… of projections of…” Her throat constricted and acquired the dried out consistency of cotton, her stomach curling into a tight, twisted knot.

 

He was lounging there on the doorway, looking like a black knight in his dark armor. God, he looked even more beautiful than she remembered him being, with a casual laid-back air and an evil flicker in his eye. Bulma didn't realize she'd been gaping, her train of thought lost. A thick uncomfortable silence spread over the hall, some coughed and a few guests shifted in their seats. She cleared her throat loudly, attempting to lubricate her vocal chords. “… projections of, of growth in the main fields of both companies.” More silence as her head spun wildly, and her eyes sought the relative safety of anywhere else, anywhere but him. “Last year numbers remained well within the average…”

 

Her mouth moved by rote, mind wheeling frantically as it strived to discern the reason for him being here, leaning on the frame like a fearless cat in his very own den. Her blue gaze gravitated to him again, unable to resist his magnetizing pull and what she saw immediately made her muscles tense. He straightened his stance and prowled towards her locking the black intensity of his eyes on her own. “…expected in terms of gross profit and…”

 

God what the hell was he doing here, seriously. Her pulse raced loudly in her ears and the hairs on her skin rose instinctively as he made his way through the crowd that was standing. They parted in quiet obedience as he moved, everyone eying him in complete confusion. The women glanced appreciatively, whispering to each other in awestruck fascination while the men held their wives in a tight instinctive grip, but even so, those married slid their fervent eyes down Vegeta's back like it was the tightest piece of ass they'd seen in, well, forever.

 

Bulma saw Yamcha leave his seat abruptly, his gaze narrowing into frightened spears of determination. To make matters worse, burly members of security emerged out of nowhere, sporting their black suits and striding with unnatural agility. Bulma could feel her voice cracking under the pressure and she was distinctly aware no one was truly paying attention to her anymore.

 

“…increase in assets of the corporation…wait” She hissed the last word at the guards, extending an arm out to halt their step. “Don't…” she barely whispered, shaking her head gently and sliding her pupils to the corner of her eye to carefully regard the intruder.

 

Yamcha snapped forth, his face ashen but his resolve as strong as ever. “Vegeta, what the hell do you think you're doing.”

 

Vegeta didn't even deem him worthy of a glance. He merely stretched his palm in his direction and sent him flying violently with the invisible power of his ki alone. The sudden shot of energy knocked him back with its blowing intensity, tumbling a table in the process and crashing him on the far wall. It cracked with the force of the impact and Yamcha exhaled sharply, sinking to the floor amidst a flurry of people. A couple of men hefted him by the underarm as he doubled over in pain-riddled agony.

 

And all the while, all Vegeta did was cock his head and send her a snide smile, his bone-chilling gaze nearly paralyzing her heart. Bulma got lost in him; bolts of panic zapping through her veins and putting her senses on high alert. Her muscles hardened and rendered her immobile, like a hopeless deer pinned to the spot by the ominous presence of a predator.

 

She focused on his movements as he climbed the few steps that led to the podium with fluid grace, almost vanishing anything else with his presence alone. Only he had the power to change the world that way, like a heated wind that morphed frosty winter days into sweltering summer nights.

 

“Please…” She whispered tremulously “Don't do this…”

 

People stared agape as the black knight approached Bulma in her crystal white perfection, both standing on the podium like surreal figures out of some eastern fairytale.

 

“Don't worry.” He said with a husky voice and a challenging smirk, standing a breath away from her and looking down into her worried eyes. He could almost hear the drumming in her chest, could see the pulse in her throat quaver at his proximity. “I merely came to say goodbye.”

 

Bulma tried to read some sort of explanation on his face but was unable to. Desire spread like liquid heat over her womb, firing up that nub of pleasure that was now engorging in attention to him.

 

“Goodbye?” She breathed the word with childlike innocence, completely lost to what he meant.

 

He only smiled slyly; his strong hand cradling the softness of her cheek. Then Bulma's world imploded. One minute everything was exactly as it should be and the next he had snatched her to him, locking lips with her in scorching fierceness. A gasp died in her throat at the disbelief, everyone stunned as they watched his mouth ground on hers. She was only aware of them for a split second, the vague notion of fighting perishing under the sinfully delicious movement of his lips.

 

Her mouth parted to let his tongue play. Fire shot through her every limb, turning her body into a blazing inferno that made her shudder. The sheer decadence of his kiss was mouthwatering and succulent, his jaw moving as he explored her mouth unabashedly in front of the guests. Bulma's chest rose in response to his hand sliding down her back to grab her ass seductively and she arched her back almost instinctively. All she wanted was to mold into him until there was nothing left of her, to prolong this absolutely obscene sensation until the world itself faded to black.

 

Yamcha strived to stand on his own two feet futilely, breathing harshly through his nostrils at the perplexing scene. He blinked many times, intent on wiping it away and convincing himself he was merely hallucinating, but the more he tried, the clearer it became. His ex-girlfriend was kissing the guy who had sent him to the next dimension, and God she seemed like she was enjoying it. It couldn't be happening. Bulma and Vegeta were kissing. Kissing! The worse thing is he felt completely helpless to remedy the near blasphemy of it all. Mrs. Briefs was staring at them elated while her husband seemed more interested in the smoked salmon blinis.

 

A stray moan escaped Bulma's throat, making the most uppity hags in the crowd gasp in indignity. Her tongue wrapped around his, her lips sucking with the pent up thirst of so many weeks. Vegeta's hand kneaded the firm mound of flesh that was her ass, pressing her to him as his other hand cradled her head and tilted it back to give him better access. There was nothing remotely chaste or hindered about the way he was drinking her up, instead nipping and tasting with wicked wanton. Her teeth grazed against his moist, luscious, velvety tongue and her lower body melted against his muscles. The audience stirred in agitation, squealed, shrieked as they witnessed the lewdest most sinfully indulgent kiss ever.

 

Vegeta moaned, slapped her ass lightly and pulled back, leaving her standing there with swollen lips and half-lidded eyes. She slowly opened them to regard him dumfounded, her hand grabbing unto the podium to avoid sinking to the floor.

 

“Come say goodbye to me too!” Yelled a blunt tall brunette, spurring on a round of barely restrained giggles from a few of the attendants.

 

Vegeta gave the woman a suggestive smirk, practically sending her swooning to the floor. He lifted a brow at Bulma and turned to leave not before grabbing a glass of champagne from the shaky silver tray a waiter was holding. He raised the sparkling flute before blurting out one final dark comment, “To Bulma Briefs, who can't give speeches but can sure do other things incredibly well.” His sacrilegious laughter bounced off the walls making Bulma's eyes widen in outright shock. He swallowed the champagne in one swig and licked his lips, then gave her one last evil look as he strode out the room looking like he was the owner of the world.

 

The crowd was convulsed, murmurs exploding around while Bulma looked at everyone in a trancelike stupor. Then the upheaval ceased as they collectively realized she was still standing there, both mute and stiff. They became aware that the speech wasn't technically over. An oppressive silence sunk in the room as their eyes refastened on her flushed face.

 

She tucked a straggling tendril behind her ear while she struggled to retain some measure of control. All she could think about in the middle of the mess was somehow finishing the speech, hence her mouth moved before she could even stop it. “I…” She stuttered, frowning and cursing herself for having previously decided against using cue cards. “I… I was saying that… that the net worth of the company has suffered positive changes.” Her head pirouetted uncontrollably and she swallowed hard before refocusing on the hard piercing pupils of the group. “Our assets increased approximately 0.88% last month, enhancing our performance in…”

 

Goodbye? Where was he going? Was he leaving again? “…performance in…” What was the matter with him, how dare he descend upon her like this and… why goodbye? “….in the…”

 

Bulma lifted her eyes and darted them around the crowd, her mind warping under the heavy strain of her thoughts. The leaders of the multimillion zeni empire were all rigid, the room as still and quiet as a tomb. Her knuckles became white with strain as she held unto the podium, unable to pronounce a single more word. And then, before she even knew what she was doing her reason and her logic grabbed hands and skipped out together into the sunset.

 

“I am sorry” Came a shaky whisper before she grabbed the folds of her dress. “I am truly sorry.” With that she ran down the steps and dashed out after him, people resorting back to outraged whispers. Their gazes remained glued to her as she disappeared like a runaway bride.

 

“Bulma! No!” Yamcha cried, holding what was a painfully broken arm against his body and glancing in the direction of the Briefs. “Don't you think we should do something?” He spoke fretfully.

 

Mrs. Brief's touched the tip of a finger to her lips. “Oh my, you're right.” She responded. She then summoned one of the uniformed men that still stood aghast in the vicinity. “Sweetie, it's time for dessert, remember? Comes right after the speech.” The waiter nodded and scurried out in the direction of the kitchen. She then regarded the shaken warrior in utter levity, motioning for him to sit down as if the world was somehow perfectly right. Her delicate eyebrows lifted slightly “What's the matter dear? It's chocolate fondant. You're gonna like it.”

 

He remained standing, staring at her in wide-eyed disbelief.

 

-----

 

She ran out and looked both ways, not exactly knowing what she was doing and not caring to rationalize it anyway. And then she spotted him, standing on the railing and gazing out into the black cloak of the night like a nocturnal bird. A cry emerged from the inner depths of her chest. “Vegeta!” Her shoes clicked on the tiled expanse of the terrace and her panting resounded in her ears.

 

She finally reached him and dropped the drapes of her dress down bracing herself on the bar to regain her breath. “What… what do you think you're doing?” Her voice was a biting rasp. She flailed her arms about, sputtering out the bitter barrage of angered reprieves. “You had absolutely no right to simply barge in there and put me through that! Do you have the least idea who those people are???” She jibed a finger in the direction of the room, her nose flaring in exasperation, eyes flickering like blue blazes. “They… they are very important people who do some very important things and… awwgh why do I even bother explaining this to someone like you, you inconsiderate, selfish…jjjj..jjerk.” She trembled in ill-concealed rage, her chest rising and lowering repeatedly.

 

He turned on his heels boring his eyes on her upturned face, that smug expression still firmly etched on his bronze features. “Oh… dammit, let me blast myself. What the hell was I thinking?” His snicker filtered through her pores and wrapped around her senses with biting intensity. He took a few steps on the narrow stone path he was perched on, letting his eyes slide suggestively over the soft angles of her face. Her skin glowed like a pearl in the shower of the moonlight and her nacre lips appeared oddly tantalizing as they pursed in fury.

 

“Well, you should be!” Came her shrill retort. “I… I can't believe you had the gall to… now what are they going to think! What the hell is the matter with you?”

 

“Untie your hair.” He interrupted as if he wasn't paying the least attention to the onslaught of sour words.

 

“W…what'” She asked in befuddlement.

 

“I said, untie you hair.”

 

He paced back, the bright rays of the moon glinting off his eyes and the air grazing through his long threads of hair.

 

“What? I…” She remained unmoving, uncertain and confused as never before. This was definitely not how she expected tonight to unravel and for a moment she wondered how'd she'd wound up in this position. And just like that he rolled his eyes, moving his fingers elegantly as if they held invisible threads attached to the pins in her hair. They flew about and her long locks unfurled, cascading down her shoulders like azure waterfalls.

 

Bulma gasped in disbelief, slender fingers holding a ringlet and raising it to eye level. “Are you crazy?” she breathed, her brain already frantic over how she was going to explain this. But it was oddly liberating, blood rushing to relax the scalp that had been pulled with such tightness.

 

He sent her hot eyes, a lip curling in satisfaction.

 

“Listen to me Vegeta, you don't have the right to do whatever you want with me.” She snapped in indignation. “You come and you go as you please and fuck up my life in the process. I am in the middle of a very important event that you just ruined completely.” She spoke with caustic determination, yet he still glanced down at her like she was nothing but an amusing little thing regaling him with her antics.

 

He grinned and crouched down on the railing, perching an arm over a knee to shorten the distance separating their faces. “Then what are you doing here? Why aren't you in there…” He nodded in the direction of the bustling room. “…playing queen of the world?” His words were a mocking purr that made the little hairs on her nape rise in response. He had to restrain a chuckle at the spectacle she presented, flustered and enraged. She looked positively worthy of a long punishing session to tame that wild insubordinate spirit of hers. A shiver of wanton dispersed through his blood, igniting it to a slow smoldering sizzle.

 

Bulma opened her lips to say something, the words jamming up her throat. She regarded him with a blank expression, fighting memories from three weeks ago when she'd ventured into his mind. Her heart still ached when it remembered the resolution in that little boy's eyes and it throbbed with bouts of faith that he would somehow thrive under the darkness. She wished it wasn't so. She wished she could rip off this feeling that still made her attracted to this evil man and embalmed her in delusions that it might somehow be ok to sell her soul to the devil. Nothing guaranteed her he would ever cease to be the merciless angel of death he was. Her place wasn't with him… she'd already been too much of a bad girl. “Well, I am going back in there. I have too much on my plate to keep playing slave to you.”

 

“You were my concubine. It was you who demoted yourself back to the status of slave as a product of your treacherous behavior and insolent attitude. In any case, I may have no obligation to you anymore, but you still belong to me, bitch.”

 

She nearly convulsed in fury. “You should be careful how you talk to me. It's this bitch who holds the keys to the GR settings, or did his majesty forget that little fact?”

 

The air became infused with his dark baleful laughter. “Didn't your dear father tell you he unlocked the settings for me three weeks ago? I have free range to raise it all the way up to 450g.”

 

“Well, why the hell would you do that? Didn't you learn a thing? It doesn't matter how many G's you pile up on that thing if your Ki isn't balanced enough for it to matter anyway.” Bulma frowned.

 

“I know that, dumbass. But your father provided me with that measuring device as well, the ki-mapper, and you may be interested in knowing I am now only 45% imbalanced, which is better than I expected anyway. It doesn't quiet matter anyhow; anything less than 50% is good enough to allow me attaining golden hair. Didn't you say that once yourself?”

 

Well, that was indeed true. It was amazing how much progressed he'd made. She wondered if her brief incursion into his mind had somehow quickened the healing of his ki.

 

She blinked and let her eyes wander to scrutinize the striking armor he was wearing. It was one of those ensembles she'd recreated for him after he'd recounted tales of the garbs he'd worn as a space fiend. “Good for you then, and good luck getting someone to scrape you off the twisted shards of metal when you fry yourself under 450g.”

 

He straightened his strong legs to tower over her imposingly. “Stupid girl. I have been training under 450 gs for the past few weeks and I have come to a conclusion. That pull is way too easy for me now.” He lifted his eyes to the wind, looking every bit as commanding as a lord of war that could govern over legions.

 

“The old man said 450g was the ship's maximum capacity, and stronger gravity would require a different design, which leaves me with no other option but to seek challenges elsewhere.”

 

So he was going into outer space? Bulma twisted her lips and glared up at him. “Damn right that's the ship's maximum capacity. My father rebuilt it after it exploded remember? And it took lots of work to fashion something that could withstand not just more gravity but also the intense type of training you like subjecting yourself to. Going beyond that would mean constructing something other than just a feeble ship. We would have to build a special facility with more advanced technology. Anything above what you already have is suicidal anyway. Don't you ever listen to reason?”

 

“Don't give me that shit woman. I don't care if you in your inane little mind deem it suicidal. Nothing is more important than this, and if it requires me risking my life in the process, then the sacrifice is valid. It's agony that makes us stronger. He did tell me a different room inside the compound would need to be built. In fact, he knows he'd better design it to contain the superior pull I will need to train, especially as a Super Saiyan. His instructions are to have it ready by the time I get back. His responsibility is developing technology that's appropriate to my requirements.

 

Bulma thought it wasn't possible to feel more aggravated, but her irritation was now spiking off the charts. Not only was he completely unreasonable, he was now back to terrorizing her poor father? Her dad was such a nice soul he hadn't even told her anything. He'd probably been laboring strenuously in his lab, burning the midnight oil to comply with his outrageous demands. “Vegeta, you can't just force my father into miraculously coming up with limitless resources to train. A new design requires months of research and the painstaking development of specialized technology. What we've achieved until now has implied more than you can even imagine, and I'll tell you something you won't like one bit. There's no source of energy in this world powerful enough to provide pressure much higher than 400g. More than that requires some sort of power reactor that could take us many months, if not years, to conceive.”

 

Vegeta scowled down at her, grinding his teeth together. He then growled and paced a few steps on the railing. “Race of weaklings.”

 

“Race of weaklings?” She shrieked. “Do you want me to somehow sprout a new reactor right now? You should be thankful for the genius thinking that's provided you with 450g in the first place.” She notched her arms on her hips and shot a daring look.

 

“I have worked with technology far superior than yours woman, believe me. You have no idea the kind of reactors used to make the gears on the Ice-jin empire turn. In fact, there's a place far from here plucked right out of your wildest dreams.” He stopped pacing and tilted his face, his face brightening under some unknown realization. “A place where you can buy absolutely ANYTHING your heart desires.”

 

“Anything?” Bulma's eyebrows sunk towards each other as she tried to digest his outlandish remarks.

 

“Even your reactor.” He looked down at her, the corner of his mouth lifting. His frame relaxed as he seemed to have alighted on the solution to his training woes. “I am ready for takeoff, and it shouldn't be too difficult to pay a visit. It's a perfect opportunity to tend to very important matters anyway.”

 

Bulma could hear the dark seductive croons of that place, wherever it was, call out to her but she sobered up before drowning in its tantalizing tune. “Well, have a good trip, Prince Vegeta. I am going back in there to try and finish the evening with some measure of propriety.”

 

“No.”

 

She stopped in mid-turn and shot blue daggers back at him. “Excuse me?”

 

“I said no girl. You're coming with me.”

 

The expletives that rushed through her mind were so many she remained catatonic. She finally managed to sputter a simple. “No, I am not.”

 

He scoffed. “We can do this all night or you can save us both the displeasure. I may be royalty and the deadliest warrior in the universe but my knowledge of highly specialized gravitational science is limited. I am offering the universe to you woman, in a silver platter with little bows on it. However, realizing how mulish and obstinate you are, I don't expect you to jump at the prospect. That is unfortunate though, because you ARE coming with me regardless of your petty displays. I need you to make that transaction.”

 

Bulma's belly tingled at the notion of traveling into outer space and being witness to marvels she couldn't even fathom. To gaze upon that kind of power and glory, and to experience the type of progress that went beyond anything she could have dreamt as a child. Her life-long dreams all wrapped in pretty foil and being shoved her way like a forbidden apple. Her definite fall from grace. What would the cost be, her soul? Her body, her life… Gods, she couldn't just say yes, she would be out there in space, alone with him.

 

Bulma shook her head and took a step back. “I…I have to go back…I” She looked back over her shoulder, taking in the light emanating from the hall that signified all that was proper and correct in her life. He couldn't let him drag her down to the murky depths of indulgence. This was exactly what was wrong with them. She couldn't keep running from her own life. “I have to go.”

 

She had so much explaining to do, so much to toil with in her daily drudge of a life. He had already screwed up things with Yamcha so badly she had no idea if there was a way of salvaging that, in fact her entire life was a jumbled mess after suffering such sabotage. “I have a life were someone actually cares about me, he actually loves me. He is gentle and nurturing and treats me like a queen…”

 

“Quiet!” He hissed in barely contained rage. “I won't tolerate one single word about that worthless piece of trash you call a boyfriend. What could you possibly want with him? Were you thinking about him as you writhed in my arms begging me for more? Is this love you speak of enough to make you howl in pleasure until your throat is sore? That is what I offered you. I don't think you cared too much about his `love' when I was fucking you.”

 

The cold glimmers of the moonlight glinted of her eyes and shame draped over her mercilessly. “Fuck you. I am not going with you.” She seethed.

 

Vegeta chuckled deep in his throat with such malice she actually physically shuddered. “Oh, but there is nowhere to run to, Bulma.” With that he directed a gleaming wave of ki across the skirt of her dress and ripped the entire lower portion off, the rush of energy making her twirl. She squawked when she saw the shreds of organza float down to the floor, her previously modest dress now coming to barely above mid-thigh.

 

Bulma gaped at her long bare legs and back up at him, her chin nearly dropping down to her chest.

 

“Now, take my hand, I don't have all night.” He commanded, extending his arm to her.

 

Her chest rose and fell in anticipation and her skin tingled. She could have extended this exchange but she knew she had no choice. Not really. She would have to travel alone with this evil man through the depths of space. To be away from family, friends and to lose the advantage of being in her own territory was frightening to say the least but she'd just have to focus on the task at hand, getting the stupid reactor that would quicken that new design and save her father and her from the wrath of the bastard prince. The positives were many anyway. It could signify enormous advancements in Chikyuu's technological development.

 

Bulma darted one last glance at the bright doors of the room behind her and then back at Vegeta's lean figure. When she took his hand she felt that familiar trickle of electricity buzz all the way down to the center of her womanhood. The billowing wind fluttered the short flounces of her skirt as he hoisted her up. Her stilettos settled on the stone surface of the railing, her heel scraping off the edge and her figure wobbling as she clung to his breastplate in panic.

 

He pressed her to him, the rough material of his armor hard against her soft, pliant body. “Good girl.” He said, before plummeting down with her from the height of the 4th floor.

 

--------------

 

 

“I am okay, please… thank you. I will be just fine.” Yamcha grated at a guest who happened to be part of the medical department and had been hunching over his broken arm. “I have to go after her.”

 

He shot a glance at the crystal doors, were a member of security had mysteriously parked his imposing six foot tall frame, blocking both the traffic and the view. “This is ridiculous.” He hissed, dashing up from his seat and rushing past the Briefs who'd also been hovering over him in concern.

 

“Son, get back here. It might be best to take you to the clinic and get that arm into a cast right away.” Mr. Briefs warned.

 

Yamcha ignored him, trudging to the door and placing his good hand flat against the cool surface. His eyes widened in sudden shock as he witnessed her out there in the distance, her aquamarine hair down to the middle of her back and almost all of her pretty white dress gone. What the hell had happened? Just like that, the world became terribly confusing and worse than appalling. She grabbed Vegeta's hand and he snatched her unto the railing. He pressed her body to his own; Bulma clinging to him strongly and the next thing he knew down they went, diving as one into the darkness.

 

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A/N: I love my girls at mediaminer, you are simply the best! Just something I want to say about the whole Bulma and Vegeta together in outer space thing, I know the idea has been used before, but can anyone tell me how many “Bulma is taken away from earth as a slave and somehow Vegeta ends up owning her” AUs are out there? And as many as I've seen, most are freaking good, even if the theme is a repeat. Every single author brings her own unique flavor to it. Well, my plot follows a very basic idea that may have been used before (in a completely different scenario and under totally different circumstances that have CERO to do with this particular storyline). So there, that's my assertion. If you stick around you may just enjoy the following chapters. I happen to think they are especially yummy.

 

Blows kisses,

Caprice