Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ How to Make Love to a Saiyan ❯ Pass It... ( Chapter 18 )

Disclaimer: All I own are like three SWEET BV doujins with very neat covers, one of which is not for kiddies. This work is strictly non-profit.

 

Warning: Please, refrain from reading on if you are easily disturbed. The reason I say that is this is a very adult chapter, and I don't mean that necessarily in a sexual way. I am forcing Bulma into a very dark world were sin runs rampant. I do not condone crime, drug use or any other thing portrayed here (really). It's just a matter of fiction.

 

 

 

How to Make Love to a Saiyan

 

Chapter 18

 

Step 19 - Pass it…

 

 

She wasn't hungry, she was ravenous and on top of that, she was burning up. The peculiar amalgam of sensations threw her back to those endless days trapped in Capsule four with no one else but her “master”. It was the same need come back to haunt her, a desire to not just eat, but to actually devour, to drink with enough greed to snap her innards open. And the heat in this underlit basement room was reminiscent of the vicious temperature in the spaceship, equally oppressive, her body issuing its silent protest in the form of damp skin and a flushed face. That brutal torture had lasted seven days, after which she thought she'd finally be free of every maddening want, but the more the time passed, the more lost she was. Chikyuu had become an incongruous mesh of faceless individuals and a strange juxtaposition of blurry events. The further from it, the hungrier she became, the more distance separated her from home, the more darkness taunted her. Night had never been more appealing, comfortable and familiar, her seemingly permanent companion. A perfect time to play, incomparably rich and mysterious, terribly misunderstood and painfully beautiful, and she was sure she was falling in love with it. No matter if its claws were sharp and threatening and they aimed to pull her away from light forever.

 

She doubted the need would ever be fulfilled, even if she actually were to eat anything, but she still harbored a measure of hope. Perhaps that was all it really took to chase away every demon, the simple act halting the short circuiting taking place in her brain. How long since she'd last give into her cravings with gluttonous abandon? It had been weeks without drinking to her heart's content, licking every drop until her thirst was satisfied, but now that she was out of that confinement, being hungry was nothing but her very own fault. Here she sat next to the man who signified her universe now, reproving herself for having wasted precious time plowing through pretty clothes instead of polishing off the sumptuous array of food on the first floor of that royal suite. At that pesky servant's insistence she'd ducked her head down the stairs and caught sight of it but foolishly decided against indulging in any of it, running back up to preen in front of a mirror for a whole hour instead. Did that make any sense whatsoever? Was enticing the man she was supposed to hate really more important than starving? Apparently so.

 

She held a sigh in as she sat with her back against his side, facing away from the thick wooden table he was resting his forearms on, as behooved a consort, according to very a stern indication on his part. Perhaps it was weakness that had rendered her mute when she'd ordinarily protest, and boy was she refraining from doing just that now that he seemed to have forgotten she was even there. There he was, fully concentrated in negotiations with an unsightly creature that, thankfully, at least spoke pop-lang. The small gray, slug-like individual, wiggled his antennae, dangled a cigar from his lips and pressed keys on a digital transaction system all at the same time. He was flanked and diligently watched by two ponderous humanoid individuals that eyed the electronic device with blank faces. She guessed their combined IQs were probably dramatically lower than that of their little chief, who incidentally looked rather unapproachable. The frown and the suit were far too serious.

 

“7.890 C?” He groused after perusing information in the system and taking his eyes off it to direct them at Vegeta. “You and I have closed many a deal for amounts far higher than this, Prince, and the items in question were far less complicated to extract than this one.” Its shapeless form shifted in place, beginning to glisten from the sweltering heat that pressed down on the occupants of the dingy area.

 

He had barely finished speaking when an aide widened his eyes and blurted and exclamation. “But boss, 7.890 is more than we've seen this whole temporal arch.” The voice was thick, dull and slow, and she marveled at how well it went with that highly idiotic aura he unknowingly sported. His face fell almost immediately, the chief growling up at him with hell-bent eyes that threatened to obliterate him in the spot. “Would you just shut up, you moron!” He spat. “Next time you feel the need to speak without permission, make sure to curl up and die first.”

 

“You really are a dolt!” Hissed the other flanker baring a fang in the process.

 

“And you keep quiet too!” The tiny man shook in impatience, banging his fists on the table.

 

Vegeta snorted, leaning back and folding his arms over his broad chest. “Go yell at your minions in your own time, Guls. I don't plan on staying long in this planet and my offer's final so get to the fucking point already, will you.” Thank you, dumbasses. Now he didn't need to spend one more bead of Crystallite on a deal they just weren't in a position to refuse. True he had killed enough people and pillaged enough worlds to earn a precious amount in payments, not even counting what he'd gathered from looting, gambling and plain thieving, but come on now, it wasn't like he was as loaded as he'd truly want to be. His stash was still pretty good though, for a dethroned prince serving under Frieza. At that thought he grinned maliciously and fixed the other man with a stare that made something crystal clear: the gastropod had lost the argument and should avoid bullshitting his way to a better deal, because he sure wasn't getting one.

 

And still, the dealer's eyes flickered with greed. He wasn't known in all lower circles for nothing. This was someone with the incomparable ability to smuggle even the soul of a demon into heaven, or so legend went. Along with his infamy as a stupendous contrabandist, came knowledge of his uncanny ability as a negotiator. He shook his head in flusteration and met Vegeta's eyes head on. “I can only get you a 250.5 GWE BWR for that amount. I hope that satisfies your requirements because I sure can't get anything better than that for less than a few thousand more Cs.”

 

She could feel Vegeta's gaze dart to her immediately, and even if he hadn't sought her with those incandescent eyes he possessed, the words were already forming in her mouth with the fierceness she'd often employed in the boardroom. “Oh, will you give me a break? I built one of those at the age of 14 for a science fair at school.” Then the geek in her pushed through to the front unashamedly. “What I need is a Super Fast Neutron Reactor with a capacity of at least 700 GWE and 250% efficiency in comparison to any average Pressurized Water Reactor. Nothing less will do. I will give you the data you need as concisely as possible so even you know what I am talking about.” She moved her fingers adeptly over the keyboard, entering the enormous amount of technical specifications she'd memorized en route to this mysterious world. She withdrew her fingers and looked at her audience, finding nothing but a trio of blinking startled eyes.

 

The brick-heavy silence that sunk on the room broke as soon as the sound of her rumbling stomach pierced through it, her cheeks reddening almost immediately.

 

The burly henchmen blurted out a strident laughter and the little slug-man stopped gawking to instead give her a toothy grin. She twisted her neck to look at Vegeta in somber indignation half expecting him to be laughing too but thankfully his face remained impassive.

 

“My, my, the consort is brazen. Vegeta, dare I say your gusto has evolved. Not just exotic, but brainy.” The tiny crook chuckled dryly. “She on the market by any chance?”

 

“What'll be on the market is your damn liver if you don't manage to produce the exact device she is asking for by tomorrow morning.” He responded viciously, angling forward and banging his fist on the table. The glare he fixed on the shrinking dribble of a man could have molten a glacier or worse, slit him into a neat little stack of gory slices had he added any ki to it.

 

“Fuck…” The dealer muttered in a shudder. His eyes had grown exponentially wide and he'd spontaneously started sweating like a rapist. His towering aides seemed to have lost their good humor as well and backed down, flinching and hugging their laser guns with fidgety hands.

 

Vegeta sneered diabolically, his face contorting into an evil mask that sent a chill down her own spine. “You were always exceedingly hasty in your delivery times. I presume your service hasn't gone downhill, or I will be VERY disappointed and you certainly don't want to see me disappointed, do you?”

 

“Tomorrow. 15th hour sharp. I will send the direct coordinates of the drop-out location to your scouter through a secure channel.” The slug responded in a rapid machine gun delivery of words that almost left no pauses. Something rippled below the area that could have been considered his chin, and Bulma took the peculiar motion to constitute a straining gulp. “I assume you still have the Sombrah with you? You might need it tomorrow. Quiet the challenge that precious one was. Very pricey as well.”

 

Vegeta's face relaxed some and he backed down allowing the other three creatures to slouch their shoulders in relief. “Of course I still have it. You think I am going to pay that kind of Crystallite to just throw it out or something? Now here's the damn card.” He unearthed the sleek rectangular item that could obviously put even her own private bank account to shame and slapped it down on the table. And while he did he fixed her with a glance, almost like he wanted to make sure she was attentive to his elegant display of financial prowess. “Go process the payment”, he told her face, like he was talking to her and not the dealer.

 

Bulma only quirked a brow, grimacing both from the hunger pains slashing through her clenching gut and the very blatant macho-like attitude he was showering her with. Leave it to him to give arrogance a new definition. She almost wished he actually didn't have anything to be arrogant about, but dark and handsome, financially solvent, (even if the origin of the assets was shady), powerful and strong was too difficult to slide under the carpet. Oh that's right, and he was also a prince. Damn him.

 

“Moog, go process the payment and get me the Iridian contact on the line.” The boss handed the blank faced guard the shiny card without even looking at him. “Boss, remember what happened last time I tried to process one of these?” The enormous brute answered in concern. “This is one of those extremely sophisticated cards, I…”

 

“Aw shut up and move aside will you”. The little man barked, hopping down from the chair he had been perched on. He then slid, quiet literally, to the backroom, disappearing behind a swirl of dark curtains.

 

Bulma let out a huge breath. She fanned herself with a hand to refresh the porcelain skin on her neck, which had grown damp and now glimmered with a thin film of sweat. She then emitted a girly “ow” when she felt a very irritating sensation. It took her a moment to realize, not without extraordinary surprise, that Vegeta had just pulled her hair. “Whiny-ass, why the hell are you still hungry?” He asked leaning slightly her way and frowning down in puzzlement.

 

She inhaled through her teeth sharply and rubbed her scalp. “I just didn't have any time left. I'll say no more so don't give me any hard time about it. You wouldn't understand.” She sent him a look that was every bit as intense as the one he was giving her. “Can we just go get something after this?”

 

Vegeta seemed to choke on his words, looking at her through a disgruntled expression. “Didn't have time? What were you doing? Did putting on a tiny scrap of clothing take you two whole Ixian hours?” His lips furled back in clear disapproval.

 

“I told you, you wouldn't understand, didn't I.” She muttered under her breath. “I am a woman, wo-man.” She enunciated. “Not some member of the military who must obey your every command blindly. What did you expect? You send me such gifts and I am supposed to somehow be able to find enough time to stuff myself as well?”

 

“You're a damn nuisance is what you are.” He bit down at her, arms crossed in a regal, yet laid back poise that should have been trademarked under his name.

 

“Do you want to get me started? Are you a masochist, oh gracious master, almighty lord of mine?” She grumbled in his face, feeling especially cranky all of a sudden. He smiled with animalistic vigor. “Your progress is remarkable, I am almost proud of you…” Then sunk his nose into her hair pushing her tendrils away so he could husk something in her ear. “…slave.” The heavy provocation sent a flurry of memories through her agitated mind, but they dissipated when he tugged on her hair one more time. Bulma emitted a tiny, undecipherable sound and pulled away. “What are you in, highschool?”

 

And he chuckled down at her, incredibly amused for some reason that eluded her. “High school?” He intoned. He had a vague idea what she meant from having heard the same term repeated several times on those pedestrian receivers back in her house. “When you were in that high school you talk of, I was commanding an army, toppling monarchies and having my boots kissed by kings. Be mindful how you talk to me.”

 

“Blaaah… blaaaah… blaaah…” She mocked in a comical voice, rolling her eyes and swaying her head. “Aren't you forgetting something? When I was in high school being admitted to every A League college in Chikyuu you were already a convicted felon. Quiet the thing to be proud of.”

 

“One more word and I'll have to get you back in line.” He snapped in indignation, a brow slightly quivery and a muscle in his jaw tensing.

 

“Oh how? By pulling my hair again?” She laughed with such sassiness the sound sent a flurry of invisible kisses down his spine, until they exploded in a wave of sensation deep in his groin. Her nose was almost touching his, the impertinence drugging him up.

 

“You little…”

 

“Ahem.” The slug announced loud and clear. They both turned at the same time, surprised to see all three lowlifes fixing them with a wide eyed stare. Vegeta recomposed himself and snatched the card back from the dealer. “Got something stuck in your throat?” The Saiyan muttered.

 

The dealer only winced. Truth was in all the years he'd had to deal with the mercurial prince, he'd never seen him talk to any one that way, with that flicker of genuine fire in his eyes, especially not a female. But what was more surprising is he'd never seen a woman answer back so fearlessly.

 

Through time they'd dealt everything from poison to vehicles, weapons to information, he'd seen him not only grow taller in stature but also in raw power. He appeared a bit more muscled every visit, flaunting an aura that sucked the very breath off his lungs. And now… now he could only shiver at the amount of potential energy he assessed his customer possessed in every muscle, and combined with the scientific genius of the woman, well, he was going to make darn sure that reactor was delivered within the agreed timeframe whatever it took.

 

When the couple left, after having exchanged a few more comments relevant to the transaction, he slouched, wiping the sweat off his brow. A long pause later, when he had fully regained his wits and he'd made certain the Iridian contact was already extracting the reactor from the science repositories of the underworld, he slithered back into his backroom closely followed by the feckless guards he was already thinking about firing. The brainless creatures were more likely to shoot themselves in the foot than actually help him should he find himself in a perilous situation.

 

“Moog, Goom. Hand over my cigar case, will you.” The dealer hopped on a little stool, tapping keys into a console to monitor his several orders in transit. After a long eldritch silence where nothing happened, he straightened his spine and twisted around to scold the laggards, but before ending the phrase he'd already sensed the tremor of impending danger. “Dammit, what's taking you so…” The Moogoom brothers were nowhere to be seen, and in their place stood three slender, horned figures with eyes that gleamed from the depths of the inky shadows.

 

“So I understand you got a reactor on the way?” The center one remarked, the question sounding more like a statement. Oriental demon, the voice, the bearing… it all reeked of it.

 

“What's this about?” The dealer answered, having a vague idea what the answer might be. Was it possible… had Ixia truly been infiltrated? Impenetrable Ixia, finally corrupted by the one thing lower than it? “How did you get in here?”

 

“You did not answer my question, scourge of the underworld. Explain to me why I shouldn't just bag up your abominable body and throw it in prison?” The tall, long haired intruder stepped forth, the light from the lamps tacked on the walls creeping over his body obliquely.

 

“So I gather you'd rather I cancel the delivery of the reactor.” The little man concluded with remarkable cynicism, believing nothing lasted forever, and thus resigning himself to gruesome fate. He was about to press the Iridian line on the console to balk the process he'd so keenly set in motion a few minutes before when a bout of cold laughter halted his intention and curdled his slimy blood.

 

“That could prove problematic for both you and me. Besides, I'd rather test what I hear about you being the best around. I don't understand how it took me so long to find this little nook. It seems you really are one of this planet's best kept secrets.”

 

“And I hear oriental demons are nothing but hypocrites. Pleased to meet your acquaintance. Now why don't you tell me what you truly want?” The three unexpected visitors surrounded him until suffocation overtook him, the one who was clearly the leader, bringing his palm down on the console with utter confidence. “You pitiful infidel, the reactor truly doesn't concern me at this point but why don't you get me something else while you're at it? Something truly handy… something I'll pay good money to have.” The dealer's molluskish features scrunched in response and formed a contemptible sneer. The interlocutor grinned, long black hair dangling down from behind the twisted horns on his head. “Not that you have to answer that. It truly isn't a question… more like a command.”

 

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“Remind me again why I brought you.” He said in a tone that sounded both mordant and frustrated, escorting her through a series of passageways until they reached something that resembled an atrium. The unearthly moonlight there filtered through a distant crystal ceiling and played games with the silvery waters spurting up from the floor in curious patterns. “Because you are not an expert on advanced nuclear physics. Because you are a selfish sonofa…”

 

“I knew I could count on you to refresh my memory, and as a matter of fact it serves you well. It's that mouth that has kept you alive thus far. You are a skillful word manipulator and a deceiving little vixen.” He bit in, that sullen expression firmly set.

 

Bulma barely cast a glance his way, more attracted to the water display before them and how cool and refreshing the filtering streams appeared. She eyed them hungrily, promptly deciding what she truly wanted to do and how much she didn't care about the consequences. She was as hot as if she'd just exercised for an hour straight and the water gushing out gracefully from the crevices in the floor was much too tempting. She stalked towards the center of the court before he even realized what she was doing.

 

“Get the hell away from there, woman.” He chided, his nostrils flaring and his forearms tensing. “That's merely decorative. Are all Chikyuu-jin women so damn brainless?”

 

Bulma, who'd raised her hands to sift her fingers through her now wet strands as water hit her every curve, suffered a strange moment of aggravation. She flung her arms down and leveled him with fiery eyes before screaming at the top of her lungs. “Vegeta, can you tell me just what the hell your problem with me is, honestly. It's like you're obsessed with making my life miserable! Can't you just leave me alone!” Wow, so the beast in her had emerged, but honestly, she had reached the end of her rope. She went on yelling, very frustrated, raspy sounds that suddenly acquired a Vegeta-like intonation. “Woman, you are so stupid. Woman, come here, go there, do this, do that… Why don't you just tell me what your fucking problem is???” And then, out of the blue, her eyes went wide and she experienced an epiphany. She remembered little Timmy from Elementary school. The snot nosed little scoundrel had made her life a misery all through 4th grade, until one day, upon the exuberant encouragement of a pack of 12th graders who also rode their bus, he'd kissed her on the lips. That day, after arriving home and vigorously scrubbing her lips over the sink, the truth had somehow sprung clear in her head. Little Timmy had given her such a hard time for one reason and one reason alone. Who'd have guessed a kiss is what he truly wanted?

 

Vegeta, who also looked startled, a very rare occurrence in itself, had gone speechless, like he had been caught of guard, or like he was weary she might be flirting with some dangerous thought he'd rather she didn't have. That look, that same look she was giving him, he had seen before. After the battle with Frieza, on that forest clearing, a diadem in her head and a stupid yellow and black suit hugging her body. It was her, Bulma, the girl from Namek, taking notice of him for the first time, fixing him with an unnerving blue stare that changed his life forever. And he, leaning on that tree, resisting the urge to let her gaze go… giving her a glimpse of his true self, promising without words he'd be very bad should she take him in. It was Bulma deciding she wanted to fuck with him.

 

His mouth became a thinly compressed line, before he averted his eyes and uttered a rather uppity, “hn”.

 

“Hn?” She repeated, water making the sound a little broken. “Tell me you want me and get it over with.” She stated matter-of-factly. To her utter surprise, he remained silent, brooding and grating his teeth, not blowing up in a profusion of expletives like she thought he would.

 

“That you really…really like me…” She toyed, allowing a crooked smile on her face and smoothing her hands down her bare wet thighs. “…because I am pretty…no… because I am BEAUTIFUL and you've never seen a girl as beautiful as me. Because you like my blue hair, and my blue eyes, and the color of my skin and how red my lips are. Because every time you see me, I drive you crazy. You miss doing me nastily, and I give you something no one else will. I feed your sickly fantasies.” She teased, eyes narrowing while she bit down on her lip tauntingly. “And I am the one perfect slave.”

 

“Get out of there.” He snapped, moving forward to grab her forearm and force her away from the streams.

 

“No!” She squealed, laughing with mirthful abandon and yanking her arm back so he was forced to step into the free-flowing spurts of water himself. “No. Leave me alone, you Prince of Assholes!!”

 

Okay, the little minx had officially gone mad. “What is YOUR problem!” He roared back. “You have no measure of propriety, no idea how to act, nothing I should want or need!” She huffed and puffed, attempting to free her arm in a pathetic display that paled in relation to his splendid power. He could have dragged her away with ease, but something impeded it, something rooted him there, to the middle of the water display.

 

“Who the hell cares” She howled in half-deranged amusement. “You like it vulgar anyway. Say you like me, and you want to be with me and wanna love me all night long and I'll be your mistress tonight.” She belted out with amusement, struggling as he spun her around like a doll. Not much else could she do when he pressed her back to him, under the upside down shower that had gotten him all wet. “Shutt uppp…” He grated in alarm, mindful of any onlookers.

 

“No I won't. I am improper that wayffmmm” She managed to get out before he slapped a hand over her mouth and muffled out her cackles. Without even thinking, she bit a finger as hard as she could, sending him screaming in outrage and making him release her at once. “Bad move.” She extended her neck to slap the words triumphantly in his face before attempting to flee the scene.

 

“You are going to be sorry for this.” He growled striding in her direction with hell-bent eyes. Bulma yelped and hastened her step but, not surprisingly, didn't make it far. She instead found her back glued to a hard wet chest again, a strong hand slithering up to curl over her throat. She lifted her chin, stretching her throat and fluttering her eyelids at the dangerous sensation. Need spread through her veins like a narcotic. “Come on” She breathed profoundly, her chest heaving with every word. “Fulfill your promise. Fuck me and kill me already...” It scared her how eagerly she pronounced the words, almost like her own lust for blood had blinded her senses. “…it's all a matter of time anyway.”

 

“No.” Came a grave response, firmly stated against her damp cheek, branded in that hoarse way that so belonged to him. “You have no say in this.” He twirled her around until she was facing him, and at that moment, she honestly believed he'd never looked better, wet and dripping but fully clothed, beads of water caressing the august planes of his handsome face until they reached his lips and chin. She needed to chalk up this sudden weakness to the hunger, to protect her already flaking sense of control by telling herself sweet little lies.

 

“What will you do with me then?” She asked pleadingly, needing to surrender in his arms and still not being able to.

 

“I can sense that hunger. Even slaves need to eat.” Is all he said, smiling slyly down at her, like a cat happy to play with a mouse before the time came to devour it.

 

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This truly was hell, she decided. And all those stories about it being a blazing inferno populated by monstrous creatures and furnished with instruments of torture seemed like old maid talk in comparison to reality. They had arrived on a wide lounge enfolded in a penumbra, couples dancing to pulsating tunes that allowed them to move suggestively into one another, almost going through with their carnal impulses in view of the others. Girls as beautiful as those she'd encountered before, ubiquitous. Each one more enthralling, dressed how she had always been taught a woman should only dress in private, genuine and young and ripe for the taking. Bulma eyed the sultry couples disbelievingly as she trailed behind Vegeta who was currently making his way to a private area. That's what he'd said he'd do, take her to the far end and feed her, like she was his little pet or something. Not a very flattering thought, especially while the females present looked so modelesque.

 

The far walls were divided into ample areas where others feasted and lounged over lush carpets and enormous cushions. Their own place proved equally inviting, she observed, as Vegeta pulled the drapes open, a center round platform offering a curious display of food that sent saliva rushing to the confines of her cottony mouth. And she felt tempted to sink into the velvety cushions and stuff her face like a troglodyte, but before they could do anything a scantily clad waitress approached them from the back.

 

She slipped Vegeta a key surreptitiously and without a single word left them. “What was that?” Bulma questioned with unhindered curiosity, but he only sent her a malicious look. “Something a good Chikyuu-jin girl shouldn't know about. Now eat before you end up fainting on me. I am not in the mood to carry you like a sack over my shoulder.” He nodded towards the food before descending to the floor and crossing his legs on the soft thick carpet with remarkable grace. She quickly followed, eagerly anticipating what was to come even if she didn't have the slightest idea on the provenance of the heavenly smelling concoctions.

 

It was obvious the bite sized pieces were supposed to be eaten with the hands, and so she dug in, stuffing her face unflatteringly. “Woman, take it easy or you'll end up throwing up and oh damn great, we're back to cero.” He commented, scooping up a tiny roll that seemed to be stuffed with some sort of meat.

 

Bulma moaned joyously, the sound coming out like a growl as she licked her fingers in delight. “You know, ordinarily I am rather persnickety about food? I am totally against mystery meats and the likes, but this… whoa, nelly.” She shuddered in pleasure, closed her eyes and crammed three portions at once.

 

“Persnickety? You don't say.” He grunted. “In any case, I'll do you a favor and avoid the token epicurean explanations. They tend to be boring anyway.”

 

Bulma grinned in mock indignation and elbowed him before leaning down to grab a couple of delicate tartines. “Don't say that. I am sure you loved my explanations on the origin of the name Hamburger and the history of French fries nearly as much as you enjoyed actually eating them. And you DID like hamburgers, EVEN if they made you look unrefined. You probably also miss milkshakes.” She emphasized with a fresh, authentic smile. Something twitched inside her chest when she saw his upper lip curl in amusement, a tiny glimmer that may have signaled he was actually enjoying himself.

 

An indefinite number of minutes transpired in mindless chatter, something reminiscent of those days back home when they'd been left alone to explore each other unhindered, eating until they felt sick and loving their bodies until they were sore. They couldn't help but laugh at the stupid pair of hirelings back at the dealer's den, their brutish faces and even less privileged brains reminding Vegeta of a very close personal aide of his own.

 

“Nappa? Really? That why you ended up blasting him?” She quirked her lips, fighting back a chuckle.

 

“Nappa was such an ass-kisser anyway.” He added with no regret and too much self-satisfaction. “And I'd get better conversations from a saibaman.”

 

“Pffff” Bulma laughed, remembering the big burly warrior and kind of feeling more than a bit sorry for the overgrown nanny slash bodyguard. “Poor man. ”

 

“Poor my ass. It couldn't stand any more kissing.” He said, words dipping with cynicism.

 

“But the Saibamen were gross Vegeta. Where did you get those hideous little creatures that looked like living breathing cabbages from hell?”

 

“Hn. Where do you think?” He said, licking a finger and giving her a hint that the trio back there may have had something to do with the gruesome acquisitions. “There was a time when they were easily acquired, but lately they had to be bought on the black market.”

 

She lingered on him for a bit, a tiny snort escaping her. “Ah. Yes. Mr. Guls and his pair of dumb brutes. What kind of name is Moog anyway”

 

“Oh I don't know. What kind of name is Bulma?” He lifted an eyebrow her way, letting his pupils roll down south until they reached her nether regions. So he'd made the connection huh… how much the word sounded like… she blushed, yeah, like bloomer.

 

“Vegeta? Seriously?” She interjected.

 

“Yeah, yeah… I've heard them all.” He rolled his eyes and twitched a cheek before popping another portion of something particularly inviting into his mouth. “You aren't coming up with anything I haven't heard before.”

 

“Well, I bet you haven't come across this one…” She started, before uncrossing her already numb legs and throwing them carelessly against his now also stretched out limb. He'd long moved to a different position, one arm perched over a slightly bent leg, allowing a distracting thought into her mind. If only that Kaltan weren't covering the family jewels, she was sure she'd get a very good hint of them thanks to the skintight pants he was wearing. IF only he wasn't wearing it, that is…

 

She let her eyes repose on the apex of his thighs. “Shouldn't you take your drape off? It's soaked. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it must be.” A corner of Vegeta's lips twisted up, a hand reaching out to hold her chin and tilt it up. “Say what you were going to say and I'll consider taking it off.” He offered.

 

Bulma blushed, now strangely uncertain if she should comply. Truth was the man, didn't need any more ammunition to enhance his already enormous ego. “You don't deserve what I was going to say.” She whispered with utmost candor, a delicate hand coming up to rest on his wrist.

 

“Okay, what say you I give you something more then? And it's got to do with what that waitress gave me a while ago.”

 

“You would?” Bulma bat her eyelashes with poorly hidden excitement, plump cherry lips curving slightly.

 

“Just a taste, no more.” He husked, a thumb brushing across the sensitive skin just below her lower lip.

 

She let out a breath, eyes glancing sideways before returning to his. “Ok. I was going to say… I actually always thought your name was very nice. There, now don't let that little fact make your head explode, please. It would ruin my clothes and I actually like them very much.” He looked at her upturned face with an unreadable expression, perhaps trying to asses the veracity of her statement.

 

“Why?” He simply asked.

 

“Why? What do you mean why?” She quipped trying to avoid elaborating on the issue, but when his hard eyes remained fastened on hers, she decided she was well cornered. “Alright. I…” A very heavy sigh followed “I suppose it does sound like indeed the name of a Prince, and male names that end with an “a” have always caught my attention, that's all.” She had barely finished the sentence when a lopsided grin had already spread over his tanned complexion, visibly relaxing it.

 

He then released her chin and retrieved the mystery key to unlock a thin drawer on the platform, one she hadn't actually noticed before. From there he produced a silver case. He carefully opened it and there, in a neat array, rested irregular small portions of something white and dusty looking. A pungent aroma filled the space with clear cut intensity, something she couldn't really pinpoint. She inhaled profoundly, finally discerning the notes of wet dirt, musk and flowers. “What is this?” She asked in bewilderment.

 

“Ixian truffles.” He announced, lifting a delicacy between his thumb and his forefinger with evident appreciation. “Worth an obscene amount of Crystallite there's no point in discussing.” Vegeta held one out to her, before reaching down and grabbing another one for himself. “It's said they derive their strange properties from the beds of raw crystallite they grow among in the shallower waters of this country.”

 

Bulma had had truffles before, as any other socialite in her circle had during those long elaborate dinners she wasn't too fond of, the kind of social function that ran rampant with high cuisine and banal conversation. She knew the smell, remembered the heavy mushroomy taste as it melted on her palate, but somehow, she just knew this was on a whole another level.

 

One quick glance at the powdery tuber, and she couldn't resist biting down on it. And oh, it was sweet and sour, salty and bitter, one contrasting taste after the other, like eating a ripe rose in full bloom drenched in wine. It rushed through her synapses, firing them until they sizzled, every little taste bud in her tongue singing sonnets, her soul widening until it threatened to burst. But it was the end that was truly captivating. It manifested itself in the form of a gathering heat between her thighs, her groins breaking into a sweat as the wave hit them. She set unfocused eyes on him as she swallowed down the last bit, almost regretting it, except the journey she was on was unrelenting. It quickened her pulse, made her eyelids heavy and every pore inflamed.

 

“Vegeta?” She managed to breath, bracing fastening a hand on the edge of the round little platform before them in shameful disbelief. It was like an eruption of sorts, and it was coming no matter what. She couldn't have stopped it if she wanted and it crashed mercilessly over her. The sexual climax made her entire frame shudder, eyes seeking the ceiling before crossing briefly, breath coming out in plentiful gasps. Her whimper was broken, thighs clenching and unclenching as pleasure sunk its fangs on her.

 

A wicked bout of male laughter filtered through to her senses, the sound coming from him as he enjoyed the view. “Remember that thing called chocolate you have in Chikyuu?” Followed his velvety voice, awakening her from the fury of her own body's passion. The world became clear again as hazy blue eyes met black ones. “How proud you are of it and how many attributes you attach to it?” He placed a truffle in his mouth and chewed placidly, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed it entirely. “Well, let's just say it's really not a big deal after you've actually eaten an orgasm.”

 

Bulma, who was still trying to regain her breath, looked at him attentively, searching for traces that he was about to undergo the same enrapturing experience she had, but nothing happened. He just smiled lopsidedly in contentment, a rare occurrence in that face that was drawn into a permanent scowl.

 

“Why isn't it giving you any…?”

 

“Don't be silly, you weakling.” He cut in. “It happened only once with me. The weaker your organism the more potent the reaction and the more frequent. It's still more than enjoyable, if you know what I mean, but I can easily control my body.” He angled closer to her, burying a hand among cushions to brace his weight. “I should have expected such a quick reaction with you though. It traveled through you like a lighting. Let's just say you are much easier.”

 

Bulma's cheeks were already burning but they flared like torches at the insinuation. “Go fuck yourself Vegeta because it sure is all you are getting tonight.” She muttered in his face, moving to kneel down and perhaps get up and leave. Upon a quick analysis of the truth though, she truly didn't have anywhere to escape to, so what did she think she was doing?

 

He leaned on the pile of cushions that rested against the leather upholstered wall behind him. “Don't be ridiculous. You think I did that on purpose?” His voice was derisive, an offended tone firmly etched on it. “Why don't you have a cup of poison you stupid little Chikyuu-jin prude. It looks like you need one badly.”

 

Bulma gaped, placing her arms akimbo and nearly turning purple with rage. “Well, why don't YOU have some poison yourself? I thought you had more honor than that. What, all of a sudden you are too good to kill me yourself? You'd rather see me die by ingesting poison?” Alright, was she actually scolding him for not promising to kill her with his own hands? She really was loosing it.

 

“Poison, you ignorant little fool, is that thing in that crystal bottle there.” He nodded at the carafe on the platform before them. “And I can assure you it isn't the kind of poison you are thinking of. It's just the name given to the local liquor.” He grabbed a small chalice and poured a serving on it, swirling it around before downing it at once. “On second thought, you are probably going to say I am trying to corrupt you, so why don't you just sit there and shut up for the rest of the evening.”

 

“Give me that, you bastard.” She snapped back, snatching the bottle and the chalice from his hands and pouring herself one serving. She tilted her head back and did away with the crystal clear beverage. She shook heavily next, trembling as the smooth liquid bolted through every limbs at once, setting them on fire. “Ow, ow, shiiiiiit!” She screeched.

 

Vegeta gave her a guttural chuckle. “Why are you so careless, girl? There's no telling what this can do to your feeble system. If I were you I'd leave it alone.” He grabbed the chalice and decanted some more alcohol for his own enjoyment. It was gone almost as quickly as it was served, and Bulma begun understanding just what made the clear liquid, with its refined purity, so different than anything she'd experienced before. It made her feel both hot and cold inside, ice and fire melting together, as if that was even possible. Now every little hair in her skin was standing and the sensation was so goooood… Vegeta searched in the depths of that same drawer and came up with a long slim black cigar, one he immediately lit up with a flicker of his own ki. He blew the smoke in her face indolently.

 

“So bitch, how do you like it?” He stated, acquiring a very leisurely posture that made him look infinitely unbreakable. “Is it too much for you?”

 

Bulma for some reason, was only getting more and more worked up, that cocky smirk of a devil growing more irritating by the second. “Honestly, who do you think you are talking to Vegeta?” She retorted, grinning wolfishly. “Pass it…” She delicately grabbed his cigarette and pulled it from between his lips to lick the end briefly and then place it on her own. She inhaled fully and then almost immediately regretted it as the fragrant smoke came out in heavy girly coughs. Bulma grimaced and waved away, now aware these were also not just ordinary cigarettes. She was a consummate smoker and still, somehow they posed another challenge. Nevertheless, she took a second drag, this time managing it carefully and allowing herself to savor the flavors hidden in the remarkable stick.

 

“God, this is good.” She commented uttering a moan and expelling the smoke away slowly. “Sinfully good.” He seemed amused at her audacity, transfixed in her actions and the small competition between them.

 

“Sinfully good?” Vegeta grabbed the buckle in his Kaltan, pushing something behind it and causing the drape to unwind from around him and disappear into a tiny compartment behind the metal. “I had forgotten I did promise I'd take this off.” He added, his voice acquiring a graver sound due to the smoking and the drinking. He placed the piece engraved with the royal insignia of his clan on the platform's drawer before collecting a little tube that had sprung free behind the drape.

 

Bulma smiled to herself, raking her eyes down the lean body lounging before her, the soft mounds, and valleys hugged by the dark clothes. Why was she always mesmerized by the narrow waist and the thick thighs? And why was she sporting such a silly grin? Dammit the poison was getting to her.

 

He flipped the tube open and tapped it against the edge of the chalice after having poured a serving of the transparent liquor first. He swirled the red powder around with expertise, and the beverage became like blood. He then brought it to his nose and drank it with leisure. “THIS is sinfully good.” And it truly was, but it was way too dangerous to be given to a creature such as her. It sharpened the senses disproportionately, especially when mixed with incense smoke. The combination was explosive, and if it was so to him, he could only imagine what it'd do to her.

 

When he caught her fascinated, he sent her a dark glower. “Don't even go there Bulma. I mean it.” He warned with gravity that was unusual even for him. “Red poison isn't child's game.”

 

“I am not a child, you can attest to that. I am more like a fallen angel am I not? And if I am going to fall, I'd rather fall well. So give me some, even if it kills me.” She slurred the words, dragging her knees until she was as close to him as possible. Delicate palms run up the surface of his torso, enjoying both the hardness and the pliancy of the muscles until her hands rested on his broad shoulders. “And I am with you anyway, so what is there to happen?” That was the damn problem, couldn't she see it? She was with him, and he really wasn't model of innocence. Not at all.

 

But the Mortal Kiss was truly godly, and he was just dying to do it with her. He'd done it with others who weren't even fit to kiss the soles of her shoes. Why not her?

 

Vegeta let go of any inhibitions, grabbing the chalice and pouring it full with poison. She then watched as he brought the tiny tube to his lips and shook it so the red powder fell raw on his mouth. He then smirked and nodded in the direction of the incense cigarette she was still holding, giving her a cue she didn't miss. Bulma took a drag on it and held the poison in, just as he threw his head back to gather alcohol in his mouth.

 

And then… drug, alcohol and smoke all mixed together in a positively decadent bomb of a kiss that could have been called epic. It had earned its name for a reason, said to have caused death to plenty, but then those were only legends, the kind of thing parents say to scare their children into rectitude.

 

They savored every single flavor their mouth had to offer, jaws moving up and down in deep intoxication. Bulma saw fireworks behind her lids, Vegeta's pulse quickened while the mighty endorphins flooded his Saiyan brain dangerously.

 

“Again…” She breathed, licking her lips and brushing the words against his own. When had she moved to straddle him? Vegeta bent his legs, helping her sink into him more, her smooth bare thighs pressing on him softly and making him break into a sweat. It was her turn now to shake contents of the tube into her mouth and sip on that icy hot fluid while he sucked on the cig with expertise. And so they did it again, this time making it slower so not a second was wasted, the alcohol's tannins blending along with the red powder to produce a chain reaction that couldn't be broken.

 

Life was lyrical and sweet. It was a vast wonderland of sin that couldn't be any prettier. Eternity was nothing other than a kiss and even if it death was a possibility, it was death itself that was tempting. She thought she could remain this way forever, her mind demanding she impaled herself on him until she bled, insisting nothing remained between them relevant enough to hinder her. In fact, doing so sounded like a plan, hence her long fingernails dug into the back of his neck, asking him to fill her up with all he got.

 

“How can people do this and not just start fucking…” She laughed, drawling out the words and rubbing her entire body against him. Her arms curled behind him so her hands could sink in his hair. This way there was no question she'd be able to climax endlessly throughout the night, almost as many times as bad erotica claimed a woman could. You know, in that kind of story where the protagonist comes one time after the other with no effort whatsoever until it's almost overkill. Well, tonight may just end up being like that.

 

“That's enough.” He reprimanded, half stoned and amidst indecent touching on both their parts. He knew a couple more drinks could send him into a black endless vortex. “You don't need any more of this shit.” The tube landed far away as he rolled it in a wayward direction.

 

Bulma, patted around the plush carpet, attempting to find the source of the pretty orgasmic bubbles popping in her brain. “Don't throw it away…” She complained, and as she searched, she accidentally brushed a curtain open. What she saw made her quickly forget about the beautiful red powder of joy. There, on the next space a couple was engaged in good old missionary style, a sweaty tangle of bodies that consisted of repetitive thrusts that tore open a rather eager recipient.

 

She remained paralyzed, gaping as man and woman went at it with that kind of abandonment that was only easily achieved through self-pleasuring. They were using each other to get off like the other was nothing but an object, true need drenching and reddening their skins.

 

Bulma felt a strong arm pull her back, curtain falling into place. “The neighbors are doing it.” She whispered.

 

“Yeah, and we'd better get out.” He muttered, a certain fear of losing control settling in his gut, but then, before he could follow that thought a hand curled around his neck to push him forward and drink from his lips. He was highly aroused himself, big evidence of it behind his pants, so why, thought Bulma, would he push her away? Why not take her tonight?

 

She was too concentrated on his mouth and didn't even realize it before she found herself laying back on the carpet, his weight on top of her deliciously right. Her body arched against his, desperate to be set free, almost crying for him to just rip the barriers away and ram into her until she passed out.

 

She rolled over so she was on top, dry rubbing on him, seeing him openly wrestle with merciless bouts of desire. Being in public was surely past the point now, seeing as others around were doing it, sweet intoxicated murmurs rushing to her ears.

 

She kept moving over him, need pressing against need and breathing intensifying. This was it. She wanted it right here, right now, Chikyuu be damned, and anyone else for that matter. Vegeta grabbed her hair from behind in a tight fist, eyes tracing a path that led to her breasts. It reminded him of that night so long ago, when he'd battled this same desire, to have her or not to have her? To abandon control and walk down that lane or desist while he could… but that night he'd given in, and he'd regret sinking into her depths many months later. This girl was bad for him. She would be the end of him. She was killing him.

 

“Stop.” He grated, perching his weight on his forearms. “That's enough.” A hand cupped her skull and pulled her forward. “You are fucking stoned, little one. You are going to regret this tomorrow, and so will I.”

 

She smiled down, her palms on either side of him on the cushiony surface. “Stop? But that doesn't make any sense.” She frowned, gliding an eager palm down his taut waist, until it rested over his pants. That's when she caught the sensation of something in his front pocket. Bulma's brows sunk lower as she snuck her fingers inside to retrieve some card, not his transact card, but another type of card, with a code and a name on it. Even through her mind's haze she could see the name was female, a sudden realization clearing up her thoughts as it struck full force.

 

“Who is this.” She asked, almost dreading the answer, heart suddenly pounding restlessly behind her ribcage. Vegeta, sat up, snatching the card back and slapping it on the carpet. “That's really none of your business.” He grunted.

 

Memories of that blonde girl back on the bar, the one with the big chest and heavenly smile crashed into her with jarring intensity. “She gave you this. That girl back there, with the ponytails.” Bulma said with remarkable lucidity, the words spoken almost to herself. “Of course. That's what she approached you for. That's it isn't it?” Her face had fallen apart, and she was sure she was melting inside out. She scrambled back and away until she hit the end of the platform. “Was she a prostitute?” She asked in urgency, hating that she was so close to doing what she felt like doing, because something was burning behind her eyes, and she sure hated doing that particular thing.

 

“Do you honestly think I owe you any explanations?” He asked, glowering at her with fire in his eyes and a deeply troubled expression.

 

Yes she was then. She was a whore. “Oh god, Vegeta…” She breathed. “Have I told you how much I hate you?” She finished, grabbing the infamous card and throwing it his way. The world, once so endlessly endowed with unending beauty and bountiful pleasure had morphed into a cold barren place of death. She struggled to her feet, nearly tumbling before spinning around and storming away. She was fully conscious she had no place to go, because she didn't belong here and home was light years away, but she couldn't care any less. This lonely sensation she'd experienced before, but never with such intensity… her chest hurt, physically hurt, like someone was tearing her soul apart and bringing her down to ruins. And although she didn't fully understand what was happening to her, she did understand something: that this is what dying inside probably felt like.

 

 

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AN: I told him many things I would tell him in my deepest dreams. All you guys who review… you mean the world.

 

All my love,

 

Caprice