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When Lust Becomes Love	By : Jenthewarrior Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 4948 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters portrayed in this story and I will not profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-When Lust Becomes Love
- 1
A/N: I’m a relatively new fan of the Dragon Ball universe, so forgive me if I make a few mistakes with these characters. As soon as I got into DBZ I knew Vegeta would be my favorite character – I’m a sucker for the bad boys who manage to grow feelings – and I hate that the show didn’t really explain how Bulma and Vegeta ended up as a couple. In my version of events Vegeta and Bulma’s relationship evolved in a positive way after the birth of their son. As for the setting, this story takes place after the Frieza Saga and shortly after the gravity room explosion. (Also note that in my version Vegeta got his tail back when he was resurrected on Namek).
XxX
It was the last night of the full moon. It glowed radiantly through the clouds, covering the entire city in its light; as snow poured from above, the flakes glittered like precious gems, and as the grasses were weighed down, the moon made the ice shine, giving beauty to its destructive nature. Several feet of powder covered the ground just outside of Capsule Corp’s lawn, but it didn’t touch the yellowing grass inside. Only the bitter cold got through to the massive dome, keeping most of the residents inside. Vegeta was the only one who preferred to meditate in the extreme weather.
He hovered just over the grass, his legs crossed and his hands resting on his knees – he floated just high enough to avoid the frigid earth, and just low enough to stay out of the cutting winds. Every now and then he used his tail to wipe a wind-induced tear from his cheek, and then he wrapped it around his waist to give his internal organs a bit of vital warmth. His body worked like a machine, struggling to keep his blood hot despite the cold. His bare torso was being assaulted by pins and needles while his lips began to burn, but he showed no outward signs of discomfort. He forced himself to absorb the pain, to accept it. He was absolutely tranquil; his brow was even, when it would’ve usually been taut, his hands were relaxed, not tensed, and his tail was almost limp around him, so much so that it sometimes slipped down onto the grass.
It was almost midnight when he finally decided he would sleep soon. He turned his head to the moon, disrupting his stillness and causing himself more pain. He cringed as he stared at it, his tail twitching against his back. The force field that kept the snow out had another innovative feature – it blocked the effects of the moon, allowing Vegeta to train and meditate under the full moon without undergoing his transformation. If he stepped outside of it, however, he would become a rampaging monster, scarcely in control of his actions.
If I was out there, I would be terrorizing the countryside right now, he thought. He waved his tail in front of him, reaching out to pick a leaf from the tip. But I have no desire to conquer this place… not like I did when I arrived. Becoming a Great Ape would only hinder my training. It is an immense, but fleeting and uncontrollable power. I highly doubt the androids would be stupid enough to fight me at night, and even if I managed to transform, I would do so at the risk of losing my tail again, or my life.
While he was watching the moon, the garden door opened. It was Bulma. He’d come to recognize her presence in an effort to avoid running into her. She didn’t approve of his harsh training regime, and she was very vocal about that opinion. If Vegeta had become so familiar with her, he would’ve put her in her place a long time ago. As it was, he almost enjoyed her fiery temperament. She was a lot like the Saiyan women he’d known – fierce and independent – and yet she retained an inner softness that separated her from his warrior race. She was good inside; well-intentioned and caring, if not a little selfish and rude. If anything it was amusing to watch her dominate her little human boyfriend – for a man who thought himself a warrior, Yamcha didn’t stand up for himself often.
Bulma approached without hesitation. She was bundled up in winter clothes, and red-faced from the wind, but she didn’t look upset or exhausted, as he expected. Instead she was curious. “Hey,” she said, her voice less grating than usual. “What’re you doing out here? It’s freezing!”
He hummed his acknowledgement, remaining silent.
She touched his arm, frowning. “You’re ice cold. How long have you been out here?”
“Since the storm started,” he responded.
“And how is killing yourself gonna help you train? Huh?”
He sighed. She was good at getting on his nerves. It was a talent of hers. She’d been perfecting it since he’d returned to this wretched planet in her father’s spaceship. “I’m training my body, woman, now leave me alone!” he snapped. “Your voice is enough to ruin my concentration. God, like nails on a chalkboard.”
She scowled. “For the last time, that is not my name! Bulma. Bul-ma. How hard is that? Do Saiyan’s have some kind of defect that keeps them from understanding simple words?”
He flinched at the shrillness of her voice. It was loud even when compared to the screaming of the blizzard. “No, we just don’t waste our minds on the names of useless humans.”
She huffed and crossed her arms, but said nothing.
“Leave me be. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Busy freezing to death.” Suddenly she noticed that the moon was full. Her eyes widened as she stared at it, and then she looked at him expectantly. “I guess the force field I designed is working.”
Vegeta glanced up at the moon, nodding. He was grateful she’d taken the time to design such a device. He didn’t want to cut off his tail, but he also didn’t want to undergo the transformation every time he glanced at the full moon. If she hadn’t solved the problem for him, he would’ve sided with his tail, preferring to leave it intact after living without it for so long. Without it, he was physically indistinguishable from the humans.
“What’s it like?”
He looked at her, sensing a change in her emotional state. It was fear. She almost never expressed a fear of him – something that perplexed him – but now he could see it in her face. She was looking at the moon, her blue eyes wide with thought. He cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
She looked at him, as if suddenly remember he was there. “What’s it like to turn into that… that monster?” she clarified, shivering a little. “When Goku turned it was like he was an animal… like he completely forgot who he was.”
Vegeta smiled darkly, recalling what it felt like to transform. It was the greatest feeling he’d ever had, to feel his body ripping outward, his strength multiplying, his rage spilling out like a great river held back by a dam. Nothing could describe it accurately. It was a warm hum inside of him; the knowledge that it had happened, and that it may happen again. Humans couldn’t understand it, not in their wildest dreams, but he tried to explain it anyway. “We don’t forget who we are,” he told her, dropping his meditative position and standing up.
“But he didn’t know-”
“No,” he cut in, strangely pleased by how afraid she seemed at this moment. “We don’t forget who we are because we are the ape. It’s the fuel inside, the very essence of what we are, and what we do. It’s what makes us react more strongly to our desires than rational goals… anger, jealousy, hatred, grief, fear… Hmph.” He found himself looking at the moon again, suddenly wistful for that freedom. “We don’t forget who we are, we become who we are. Saiyans, at their very core, are untamable creatures. No amount of intelligence or evolution can erase the beast.”
Bulma stood silently for a moment, taking in his words, and then she smiled a little. “I think that’s the most you’ve said to me since you got here,” she responded. Her voice was a little shaky and he could still sense her fear, but she pushed through it. “Come inside. You can’t train if you’re dead, and even mighty warriors can freeze to death.”
He thought about staying out just because she wanted him to go in, but he followed her, saving his defiance for another time. Besides, he was starting to feel like a block of ice.
“I don’t know why you put yourself through that kind of stuff,” she commented as they came into the kitchen. She shut the door and locked it, shivering. “I don’t think you – or anyone – will ever be stronger than Goku. Did you see him out there with that future guy?”
Vegeta felt something snap inside. He lunged, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her into the kitchen door. Before she could even attempt to struggle away from him, he let out an enraged growl. “If I were you, I would bite my tongue, earthling,” he hissed, giving her shoulders a hard squeeze. Bulma whimpered and turned her head, pressing her cheek into the wall. “Do not assume that being a woman protects you from harm. I have destroyed planets full of women and children who didn’t annoy me so much! You’re lucky to have survive this long, you infernal, loudmouthed idiot!”
He pulled her forward and slammed her back again, this time tapping into his superior strength. She yelped and pushed against his forearms, daring a glance into his eyes. Her pupils were dilated. He could smell the adrenaline rushing through her veins. He could hear her heart racing, feel her pulse jumping against his palms. He smiled venomously, enjoying the first terror he’d incited in what felt like years, even if it was in this worthless human girl.
But something strange happened to him as he held her there. Her fear awakened a memory he hadn’t accessed since his childhood. He saw Frieza’s face as plain as day, his shadow falling over the ground, his tail sweeping across a metal hallway. He felt himself running, nothing but fear fogging his head – it was the kind of fear that only a child could experience, the kind of fear that crippled even a kid as fearless as Vegeta. His captor’s hand closed around his thin arm and he heard himself screaming – a shrill, blood-curdling scream that marked the beginning of a very long captivity and servitude.
Shocked by the memory, Vegeta released her. He staggered back into the island, his hand sending a plate flying into the wall. It shattered. He stared at Bulma, amazed and dumbfounded by his sudden fear. What was he becoming? Weak like Kakarot? Did he actually care if he harmed this insignificant human? Was he actually feeling empathy for her?
I don’t care, he assured himself, lunging again. This time he flexed his fingers, digging into the soft flesh of her shoulders. She cried out, and again the memory flashed in front of his eyes. A dark corridor. Emergency lights flashing above him. Running before he’d even mastered walking. He powered through it with an angry groan. No. I am not weak. These humans mean nothing to me. They are just a means to an end. I don’t care if I break her arm. I don’t care if I crush her spine. She is worthless. She is a lower being; a peasant.
“I was kidding,” Bulma said quickly, her breath strained. “Of course you’ll be stronger than Goku! I mean, you’re a prince, right?” she laughed nervously.
“Don’t patronize me!” he snapped, though he began to loosen his grip. He didn’t know what had triggered this rage, but he was having a hard time controlling himself. Usually a comment like hers from a civilian would earn a retort, not an attack. What was he doing?
Bulma squealed, trying to hold up her hands in surrender. “I’m not! I swear!”
He scowled and released her. She breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall, rubbing her shoulders with both hands. His mind raced as he tried to identify the source of his outburst. He put up with humans and their banter all day, but this girl was different. She was in his head. The things she said actually meant something to him. But they shouldn’t have. That was the baffling part. Seeing his enemies cower in front of him was usually gratifying, but when he saw her fear, he was sickened. He was empathetic. It was alien to him.
“Jeez, you’re touchy today,” she commented, kneading her shoulders and cringing.
She was brave. He’d give her that. Even after a tense moment like that she still managed to be spunky. In any other person he would’ve found that annoying. Right now he thought her courage was admirable. He actually liked that she acted normal around him – the others acted as if he would turn on them at any moment. Bulma treated him like one of the group.
He shrugged at her words, glad she wasn’t running for her life or dialing Kakarot’s number. It was like she sensed his rage had subsided, and that she was safe now. He watched as she ducked around him and started cleaning up the plate fragments.
When she stood to deposit them in the trashcan, he flashed to her side, feeling another powerful emotion that couldn’t be ignored. It was just as overwhelming as the rage, but so unique that he couldn’t begin to control it. It could’ve been affection, or even lust, but he didn’t put a name to it. He grabbed her face with both hands, taking in her shocked, cautious expression, and then he pressed his lips to hers.
He’d never kissed anyone before that moment. When he was young, a visiting princess had given him a peck on the cheek, but he’d punched her, thinking she was trying to attack him. He never let anyone get close enough to him to perform such a tender action. He wasn’t accustomed to it. He was a warrior; his skin was callous, his nerves were almost always overwhelmed, and his guard was always up. Kissing was a strange, foreign action he’d never thought to try. Now it seemed… necessary. It felt like the right course to take.
She was soft. That was his first thought as their lips touched. Her skin was flawlessly smooth, like satin under his fingers. Her lips were warm and delicate, forcing him to hold back the majority of his strength to avoid shattering them like the plate. He was close enough to notice a sweet scent rolling off of her. It filled his mind and slowed everything down. He realized in a split second that it was a very potent pheromone. If his sense of smell hadn’t been so strong, he would’ve thought it was honey. As it was, the stuff was making him dizzy.
Seconds passed and neither of them moved. Vegeta released her face, letting his hands slide down to her shoulders. He almost pulled away, partly content, partly convinced that he’d made an embarrassing mistake, but Bulma finally reacted to him. She wrapped her hands over his forearms and leaned into the kiss, parting her lips and tilting her head. He felt her tongue slide along his bottom lip. He followed her lead, and soon he had her against the wall again – though he didn’t remember moving – and he was holding the back of her head, exploring her mouth with his tongue and only giving her a few brief seconds to breathe.
It was too soon when she broke the kiss, gasping for air. He held his position, staring at her, measuring every emotion that passed through her face. Confusion. Caution. Excitement. Lust. She seemed unable to speak, so she just stared back, her eyes asking him the same thing he was asking himself. What the hell had just happened?
He sensed movement just outside – someone was heading for the door. He broke away from Bulma and staggered back into the island, staring at her for a brief moment before he forced all of his energy into a speedy escape. He ran into Yamcha at the door, slammed his shoulder into the other man’s chest, and then shot off into the sky, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Capsule Corp.
Within seconds he was cutting through the clouds, waves of energy rolling from his body and forcing them to dissipate. He forced his eyes shut when he arrived in full view of the moon. He felt the power of transformation surging through him, but he hadn’t seen it long enough to trigger the ape inside. Groaning, he spun and headed back down, passing the city and entering the forests beyond. He dodged trees and creatures of the night until he found a cave with a suitable overhang. He sat against the wall, rubbing his forehead with his palms.
I had no control over myself back there. I could’ve easily killed her and provoked Kakarot’s wrath. I’m not strong enough to fight him yet. He would crush me. He slammed his fist into the ground, startled when it caused a deep, rumbling aftershock beneath him. He still wasn’t in control of his energy; it was fluctuating, surging through his entire body, seizing every movement and turning it into a show of strength. But he couldn’t quiet it, not while his mind was so disordered.
It was all that woman’s fault. She’d gotten into his head and screwed something up.
I have to kill her, he thought, clenching his fist. Small streaks of lightning moved along the veins as he focused his energy. He was fueled by his new task, one that would bring back his original purposed. Destruction. He would kill the girl to clear his head, and then he would leave this wretched planet, allowing the androids to destroy his only competition. If he returned, it would only be to laugh at the decimation they’d caused.
He stood, taking a deep breath and turning his palm toward the inside of the cave. He allowed a small amount of energy to escape his body – such an infinitesimal amount that he barely felt its absence – and a crackling blue ball appeared. It writhed against his skin, tickling his palm for a moment before it surged forward and exploded. The entire cave was ripped to pieces. Stone flew in every direction and the wind picked up pebbles, which sliced across his cheeks and shoulders.
Now he stood in a clearing bathed in moonlight, bleeding from several superficial cuts on his torso. He had a wicked smile on his face as he took in the destruction he’d caused. Killing this girl is the first step to reclaiming who I am. I’ve let this place soften me, but no more! I am the prince of all Saiyans, not a human, as Kakarot has let himself become.
He shut his eyes and rose into the sky, following the energy level of Yamcha back to Capsule Corp. He landed in the yard and gazed up at the moon, considering disabling the force field so he could level this entire city. He decided against it, stalking into the building full of purpose. He let his tail unravel and lash back and forth, enjoying the soft Earth gravity for the last time in a while. Soon he would be training in a harsher place, and this playground would be a distant memory.
He passed one of the living rooms and then stepped backwards, finding Bulma alone on one of the couches. She was curled in the corner, her arm propped up and her cheek squashed into it. Her feet hung over the side and tired eyes stared at the flashing television screen. She was in her pajamas, but the clothes she’d had on earlier were on the floor near the coffee table. It was dark, but Vegeta could see lines of exhaustion on her face – he’d been gone for almost an hour, and she was starting to succumb to sleep.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. She started, sitting up and pulling a blanket protectively to her chest. When she saw it was him she relaxed, glancing back at the TV. “Um, hey, what’re you doing here?”
“I live here,” he reminded her, though he knew she was referring to his presence on this side of the facility. He usually remained in his room, which was in another wing. This was where everyone else lived, and he made it known that he despised them all.
She swallowed hard. She seemed to sense that something was wrong. It was human nature – they always seemed to know when they were about to die. “Look, about earlier, I, well we, shouldn’t have, you know, done that, because Yamcha and I are sort of together now – again. I mean we were together before he died – sort of – but now that he’s back we’re happy and I don’t think it’s fair to him if we-”
“Shut up,” Vegeta snapped. She shut her jaw with an audible click. He advanced, coming to crouch in front of her. She seemed enthralled, so he treated her like a little mouse. He was the snake. He took her face in his hands, amused when he felt her skin heat up. She was aroused, even with the danger he presented. She couldn’t have been more foolish.
He moved closer to her face, breathing in her scent again. It was easier to resist the second time, but still it attracted him. Perhaps he should indulge before he killed her. It wasn’t like anyone would know. And it wasn’t weakness – it was what every man wanted, no matter how powerful he was. He tried to convince himself of that as the urge to kill her was replaced with another, stronger desire, one that seemed more logical than the last.
He kissed her, but this time it wasn’t a gentle, cautious kiss. He used more force, bruising her lips with his, wrenching her head sideways to gain better access to her mouth. She whimpered, tugging at his hair, pushing at his shoulders, trying to force him away while inadvertently enticing him more. When he finally pulled out of the kiss she gasped for air. He grabbed her and pulled her off of the couch, pushing her up against the front while he held onto her head and kissed her shoulders.
He ripped her shirt open, drawing a gasp from Bulma, but it curved into a moan when he ran his hands down her sides. She’d been on her knees against the couch, but Vegeta grasped her thighs and pulled them around his waist, holding her there with one hand pressed to her lower back. She drew in a sharp breath and reached behind her, undoing the thin bra that held him from his prize. As it fell away he took one of her nipples into his mouth and ran his tongue over it.
She writhed in his lap, stirring his lust. Her moaning become more constant and the scent of her grew stronger; pheromones mixed with the smell of her arousal. It awakened a powerful desire in him. He sucked and kissed her breasts, reveling in their softness.
Her movements became rhythmic. She pressed her body against his, trembling. “Vegeta… I can’t… I can’t take it…” she gasped between moans, running one hand down her side and balling it up on her thigh. She made no effort to stop him, though he could see the muscles in her abdomen bunching up.
He reached between them, slipping his hand into her pajama pants. She was warm and wet, and as his fingers ran over her sex, she shivered. Her pleasure was like a drug to him. It was better than seeing her fear him. It was better than any satisfaction he’d ever felt.
Without allowing her a moment to think about what was happening, Vegeta turned her around, holding her tight against his body. He put one arm around her belly and slipped the other one between her legs. She melted in his arms, leaning her head back on his shoulder and letting him kiss her neck. Her moaning was music to his ears. He flicked and rubbed the little bundle of nerves until she was clinging to his arm and pressing her face into his, her eyes clenched shut, her toes curling on either side of him.
Finally she gasped and writhed, her muscles tensing all at once. She tried to push his hand away. “I can’t… I can’t… stop… ah!” He tightened his grip on her, forcing her over the edge several more times, until he had to cover her mouth to keep her screaming from waking the others. When he finally released her, she slumped into him, trembling, holding herself, her chest heaving, her face flushed, her muscles tensing and releasing.
He withdrew his hand, letting it rest on her thigh while she recovered. He’d never seen something so beautiful, so wild, so ravishing. Suddenly he didn’t feel weak for his attraction to this woman – who could deny such wild beauty?
Finally, it was his turn. He lifted her up and set her on the couch, stripping her bottoms and tossing them toward the door. He removed his own clothes and let them drop. He tail curled with anticipation as he gazed at his prize.
He laid on top of her, a bit surprised when she wrapped her legs around him. Her face was still flushed, with pleasure and embarrassment, but she looked right at him. She’s gorgeous, he thought, captured in her expression. She had the same look that he did – lust, affection, uncertainty. As he reached between them, setting himself at her entrance, fear flashed into her face.
He ignored it and thrust into her, drawing a pained cry from her. He slapped his hand over her mouth and continued, burying himself in her body over and over again. It was his first time, and certainly not his last, considering how much he was getting out of it. Her body hugged him, only becoming tighter the longer it went on. The heat was bordering on unbearable, but it was such an incredible feeling, such an insane rush.
In the midst of it he’d forgotten that such an act required a partner. He moved his hand from Bulma’s mouth and started kissing her neck, attempting to ease her apparent discomfort.
“Not so hard,” she murmured, her hand clenching on his neck. Her other hand was on his back, and each time he thrust into her, it shook a little. He tried to control himself a little, easing the force behind his actions. In response, she lifted her legs a little bit more and laid her head back. Her hand flattened on his back and the one on his neck moved up into his hair.
Her instruction continued, even as his movements caused her to let out a series of moans. “Faster… ah! Right there!” Her hand tightened, her nails digging into his skin. He must’ve found a sweet spot. “Oh, yes! Vegeta, yes! Ah!” Her legs tightened around his waist, the soles of her feet digging into his bottom. She wrapped her whole arm around his neck and pulled herself against him, burying her face in his shoulders. She screamed into his skin, muffling herself.
Suddenly her body convulsed around him, squeezing him with every thrust. He resumed his original pace, fast and hard, digging into her, slamming his hips against hers. Finally it ended with a burst of pleasure. He released inside her with a few more thrusts and then relaxed, his lust was replaced with exhaustion, but he couldn’t rest yet.
He smelled blood.
He drew away, sitting up on his knees and looking down at his partner. Her body was marred by a series of bruises, some from earlier, some fresh. He hadn’t realized he was using so much strength, but then again, he hadn’t had much control of himself at all. He located the blood with a quick glance down. It was smeared on his belly, and it was coming from Bulma. He must’ve harmed her more seriously than he’d thought.
He stood and dressed himself, glancing back when she rolled with her back to him. He heard her whimpering, using her hands to examine the damage he’d done. He considered leaving, having lost most of the attachment he’d felt for her when their copulation had ended, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t understand his reluctance. It was pointless. He should’ve been able to leave this worthless human to deal with her own problems, but he couldn’t take another step toward the door.
Groaning, he turned on his heel and approached her. She turned her head, looking up at him with big puppy-dog eyes. He was – for the most part – unaffected, but a small part of his mind felt ashamed for having done this to her. This was no way for a prince to treat his mate. It was barbaric. His opinion on the matter conflicted with what Frieza had taught him – he had more memories of that monster’s life lessons than of his own father’s.
“Get up,” he ordered, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch. She stood shakily, her arms crossed over her chest. He wrapped the blanket around her and scooped her into his arms, frowning at the fresh bloodstain on the pale blue couch. Oh well. Someone would clean it up.
He carried her into the hallway, which was lit by a series of domed lights embedded in the walls. Bulma shivered, reacting to the icy air. “W-Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“To your father, so he can repair you.”
“Okay, first of all, I’m not a robot,” she snapped, regaining her spark. She made a face. “And my dad is not coming anywhere near my… woman area.”
Vegeta sighed. “Then where?”
“I’m not… I’m not broken,” she declared, squirming in his grasp.
“You’re bleeding.”
“That’s supposed to happen!” she asserted, and then she shut her mouth, realizing how loud she’d gotten. “That’s supposed to happen the first time you… you know.”
He narrowed his eyes. First time? That would explain her discomfort. Vegeta had been with his father long enough to have that conversation. He hadn’t even thought of it, but now that he knew, he was glad. After all, it was also unheard of for a Saiyan to share. Before his mother had died his father would’ve executed anyone who laid a hand on her, even though she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. It was the nature of a warrior, and the nature of a man. His father had explained that defending one’s mate was akin to triumph in battle.
Vegeta set her down only to have her scurry back into the living room and shut the door in his face. He heard her dressing, muttering something about decency. He headed for the stairs, ready to go out and find something to blow up, but the door opened behind him. “You ruined my shirt,” Bulma whined. She had the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
He paused. “It was an ugly shirt anyway.”
She reddened. “Yeah? Well, uh, your armor is stupid! Like your face!” She turned and stomped down the hallway, yelling insults as she went. “And you talk like an old man! And… and… and your hair is too tall! And your tail is creepy!”
He watched her go, saying nothing. Somehow she’d earned his respect… maybe even his affection. It had been so long since he’d had such feelings for someone. The last person he’d felt for on that level was his father, and that bit of warmth had been stolen by Frieza’s cruel hand. It was in him again, but it was isolated – only this woman had any sort of hold on him. He could still readily kill the others. He knew he could. His goal was still to become a Super Saiyan and destroy Kakarot in battle. He wouldn’t allow it to change.
Or had it changed already?
- 1
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When Lust Becomes Love