Feeding Genius

Feeding Genius – Chapter two


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2003-06-19T21:05:00Z
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Feeding Genius –
Chapter two

 

Disclaimer – I suffer
from an obsessive compulsion with regards to DBZ this does not however (as much
as I want it to) mean I own it. That’s the privilege of Akira Toriyama, Toei
Animation and Funimation etc…

 

WARNING! – This chapter
contains material of an adult nature. If you are under 18, or find scenes with
sex and strong language offensive then do not read any further! ~Ember~

 

Sex Across the Bosses Desk

 

Dinner had passed
well enough. Investors hung around the large table filling their faces with the
sweet taste of honey-roasted duck, whilst I outlined the objectives to them for
the next financial year. Smoke filled the room as countless numbers of them
joined their discussion with the additional comfort of their favourite cigar.
The smell was strangely comforting, but it still couldn’t stop me from feeling
the protracted stare of piercing blue eyes that radiated lust from Mr. Simmons.


To be frank the
way he leered anonymously over my body, and his lips parted enough to show me
the tip of his tongue as it ran suggestively over his lip when he was sure no
one was looking, made me shiver in disgust. There were times throughout the
whole where I wanted to go up to him and slap him hard across the face, just to
wipe away the suggestiveness that dripped from his countenance.

Ultimately I was
proud of myself. I managed to control the bloodlust urges that being married to
a Saiyan seem to have instilled in me as a new character trait, and quiet the
desire for blood as I rounded up the meetings proceedings with relative
restraint. It was agreed that a contract would be drawn up within the next week
and that all those present would attend to sign it at the end of that time.

With little hope
of gaining pleasure from the rest of the evenings entertainment, I left my
guests shortly afterwards to try and find some company that I wouldn’t feel so
awkward in. I decided to drive my way though the throng of meticulously
materialistic trophy wives and headed to my study and the private alcohol
cabinet to share my disgust with a bottle of Southern Comfort.

The lights were
off as I entered but I didn’t make a move to turn them on. The soft radiance
from the hall illuminated it well enough and so selecting my tipple from the
cabinet I extracted a tumbler and sat down at the large leather chair, to look
out through the ceiling to floor windows undisturbed.

“Having fun?”

The whiskey had
only just touched my lips as the words were rasped sarcastically.

“Yeah!” I rolled
my eyes, “I just love surrendering a night of passion with you to be reduced to
hiding from disgustingly officious investors in my own home. I’m having a
ball!”

In one swift
motion I downed the contents of the glass.

“The nights still
young.” That damned smirk pulled at his face, “Plenty of time left for fucking.
You oweonnaonna!”

I giggled into
the glass, wagging a finger in his face, “Fucking yes, but I said passion
Vegeta.”

“Aren’t they one
and the same?”

I angled my head
in mock anger, “If you want an argument all you have to do is ask.”

He chuckled and
having found a glass of his own, slammed it onto the desk in front of me, “Well
if you insist - Pour!” he demanded.

“Get your own
drink!” I apostrophised, hugging the bottle close to my chest and fluttering my
eyelids, “My Southern Comfort!”

“Ugh! You sound
just like the boy!” he growled, leaning over the desk and making a move to
swipe my drink, “I thought brats were supposed to get their mannerisms from the
parents, not the other way around.”

“I’ve had enough
of being serious for one day. See this fake smile?” I leered at him with the
biggest of forced Cheshire cat grins, “I’ve worn this for the last three hours.
Do you want the wind to change and for me to stay like this forever?”

“I can safely say
that that face is the only thing scarier than me! Put it away and pout all you
want.”

“Thank you!” I
spun childishly on my office chair, “I will, but first…” I forsook the use of a
glass and took a swig straight from the bottle, “A little pick me up.”

Vegeta quirked his
eyebrow in a way that always manages to make me smile. It was that ever-present
battle of curiosity and pride. I get to see it less and less t day days as he
has become more familiar with our culture, but just on occasion I’ll use an
expression that is alien to him. I remember the feeling it fluttered in my
heart that night as it always does when he looks so deliciously lost.

I debated on
letting him know the meaning, but its so much fun to see him puzzle that I
decided not to. He hates having to have things explained to him, takes it as an
insult to his intelligence, and I wasn’t about to ruin anything as rare as his
playfulness.

I didn’t wait
long. His consternation soon melted with the mood and I found myself hauled
from the plush chair and up to his body, my pelvis pushed into his chest as he
held me so my feet couldn’t touch the ground. He pushed us both back onto the
desk, and his hand swept along my arm to that which held the bottle,
manipulating the limb so that he could sample the liquor for himself.

His face crinkled
in disgust, “I don’t know why your species is so addicted to this stuff. It
tastes like crap!”

I didn’t even
react to the harshness in his tone. Having lived with him for so long the
abrasiveness is all but worn out. “Just another release from the tedium of life
I guess.”

“Really?” he took
another swig, only to keep it in his mouth and bring our lips together spilling
it into my own, “Then why do you drink it?”

I shrugged my
shoulders. I didn’t have an answer to his question. Life with him was anything
but boring.

“That is not an
answer.” He pushed me roughly to the desk, his hand bruising over my breasts as
his mouth claimed mine, the passion invoked, nothing short of amazing, “Maybe
you would like me to fill in the blanks?”

His knee parted my
thighs, his leg rubbing where I needed contact the most. It made me gasp and
forget any retort that my brain might have started to meld into words.

“Let me explain
Bulma,” The words were forced in a deathly quiet to my ear, “Remember that I
have been watching you closely. I watched you every te, te, even when you would
think it was impossible. For some reason fate has handed me the affliction of
not being able to tear my eyes away from your body. That does not however mean
that I am blinded to others around you. I saw everything you saw.” There was a
pause, as suspenseful as he could possibly conjure, and his voice deepened, “Everything!”


“I don’t know what
you’re talking about.”

My false
expression of innocence was blatantly obvious, but I did not wish to hide it.
Jealousy is an emotion that sits far too beautifully onto his features to be
ignored. I took a kind of sadistic pleasure in the fact he felt it so
powerfully. It was his own fault. He must have known that I could not possibly
want another man after being with him. Looking back I would not have pushed the
emotion as far as I did.

He growled raking
his fingers roughly up my thighs, the cuffs of his shirt trailing behind,
“Don’t give me that look onna, the whole group of them were staring at you. You
may or may not have missed it, but my senses are more heightened than yours. I
could smell the lust radiating from them.”

“And what’s it to
you Vegeta? Surely you aren’t jealous? After all, look where you are now?”

I lifted my eyes
to fix firmly on his, their hollow blackness pulling me under an intoxicating
spell.

“Yes,” he agreed,
his hands pushing my dress up to concertina around my waist, revealing the black
lace and velvet of my panties, “Look where I am.”

His head dropped
and I could feel his breath, heated and panting as his lips met with my thigh.

“You know there
was one in there whom you were not so blind to wasn’t there?”

His caress
travelled higher and his tongue licked at my entrance through the fabric of my
panties. He knew full well that I wouldn’t be able to answer. “The human at the
other end of the table from you seemed to watch you more intently than the
others. I saw your reaction to him. He even had the audacity to flirt with you
so openly in our own home, but then perhaps he had encouragement? I saw the
heat rise to your cheeks when he spoke to you.”

“You bastard!” I
shouted, thrashing a leg to try and kick him, which, I might add he caught with
perfect ease, running his fingers teasingly over it as he removed my underwear
with the other, “You know full well that I was pissed at him Vegeta. I’m not a
fucking teenager. I don’t blush at pathetic perverted men like that anymore! Its
just as I told him two weeks ago - I’m not interested.”

“Ah! Now the truth
comes out,” His speech was interrupted as he delved inside of me. Licking at my
inner walls until my breath grew ragged and then retreating to run over my
clitoris with the appendage. I could feel myself shaking at his touch, as
though the power running through his body was being sensed by my own and driven
mad by it.

I clasped my
fingers in his hair, and (much to my frustration) he lifted his head in
reaction to the contact, “When were you planning on telling me about this?” he
growled, the anger that was slowly consuming him, mixing with the lust that
held him equally captive.

I pushed my pelvis
up to him, “I wasn’t!” I conceded.

He ran a hand
where his mouth had left, trailing a finger to rub my nub as the other delved
lower, three of its fingers pushing roughly into me, “and why not?”

My body shook at
his touch. I could feel the pressure building at his masterful strokes, the
fluttering feeling building in my belly, “I… I… knew… you… w… would… Oh Kami!”

“Knew I would
what?” he demanded, but my body disobeyed him, filling all my senses with the
power of release, washing away his questions and purifying my thoughts to
concentrate solely on my climax.

He let me recover
for a few minutes after as he freed himself of his trousers. I was left
breathless as he exposed his arousal. It stood tall, the glisten of pre-cum
already on its surface. I smiled knowingly. We are one and the same. There is a
thin line for us between blind rage and passion. It can consume us both,
overflowing so completely into the chasms of despair, but just on occasion the
two combine so flawlessly as to leave us little hope of feeling anything other
than the intensity of each other.

His tones were
calmer now as he reclaimed my lips in the briefest of kisses, “Knew I would
what?” he repeated, intent on hearing my answer.

“Knew you would
get mad.”

“I’ve been that
all my life, you knew from the first day of our union that you were giving
yourself to a madman. Why should it give you concern now? Unless you actually
care for the aging moron?” His fingers interlaced with mine as he pushed his
hips with crushing weight down onto me, “Is that it Bulma? Did you not tell me
because you knew I would get mad and hurt him?”

I nodded, a tear
slipping from my eye. The hurt in his voice was very evident and made my
stomach clench. It was then I knew something was wrong. I had thought he asked
the questions in his playfulness, to get a rise and argument out of me. Now I
knew the truth of it. He wasn’t playing; he was interrogating, using my body
against me. Lulling me into confessing things that I would not if my mind was
clearer.

“You do not want
for him to get hurt?” he continued, this time the tip of his penis pushing at
my opening.

I was in no mood
to refuse him and willed him on. I reasoned that if we continued I might be
able to turn the tables on him, manipulating his actions as much as he was
mine, with the added bonus of getting sex. “No, he’s too important.”

I could feel
Vegeta tense at my words, his muscles hardened under my skin as he gripped at
my backside, his pace much more forceful under my confession.

“To you?” he spat
in distain.

The harder contact
felt amazing as his penetration deepened, the intensity of his strokes defusing
concentrically through me. My hands clawed, looking for something to share in
the passion I was feeling, but Vegeta held firmly onto them.

“Answer me!” he
demanded his breathing starting to become more laboured under his exertions.

“Yes!” I admitted,
“Capsule Corporation needs… his… back… backing.”

One of his hands
left his grip on my bottom and moved to the front, flicking over my sensitised
clitoris in keeping with our pace. I bucked my hips up to him in eagerness, but
he pushed them away, almost as if he was showing his anger through our
lovemaking. His posture exuded confidence and even though the obvious ire at
these revelations was placed firmly on his brow I could see the flicker of emotion
that it tried to hide as it glinted tempestuously in his eyes.

“So you do care
for him?”

The pace was
erratic by this time. Vegeta wouldn’t allow either of us any leverage and I
confess that I was enjoying every second of his confessional. If this were to
be the way he would squeeze information from me then I would willingly let him
try for all the skeletons in my closet.

“No!” I protested,
“Personally I can’t stand the smarmy little shit!”

He automatically
relaxed at my words and chuckled into my lips as he brought them together. I’m
still not sure if it was my imagination or not, but I’m sure I saw the smallest
amount of relief spread momentarily over his countenance. I could have been
wrong though, because at that moment he chose to rub more frantically at my
nub, the head of his manhood expertly finding my g spot at precisely the same
time. It sent my senses into a free fall that I wouldn’t be able to recover
from.

My climax
approached faster with every renewed thrust, its glorious power hitting from
both angles, increased in desire and strength as it triggered the beginning of
Vegeta’s own. I could feel him groaning and slowing trying to hold onto his
control and prolong his enjoyment, but I was determined not to let him. My own
release helped me and I didn’t care about his precious composure. I wanted to
waylay it. Knowing that I could inspire such loss of cohesion in someone who
had been trained to guard it and took so much satisfaction in its construction,
was added pleasure to my already overflowing body.

The reaction was
pure instinct. Give him the pleasure I wanted, and which he wanted from me.
Take him tumbling over the edge with me and cum together, attempting to gain an
equal footing. “Are…?” my grip on language was by this point pretty thin, “Are
you jealous?”

“N…never!” he
reiterated, “N…ever of a h…human!”

I could see the
concentration on his face; he would not give in. I pushed him further, keeping
the pace that he had relinquished as his face beaded with sweat and he searched
for some kind of rule over the lust that was betrayed by the groan that
vibrated his vocal chords.

I looked intently
to him as I rode, “Yamcha?” I implied.

His face
blackened, his teeth gritted in a feral snarl as he once again joined the pace,
the intensity in his eyes thick with an emotion I could not tell. “I was
n…n…ever j…ealous of that fuck…ing piece of… human shiiiiiiiiiit!”

His eyes rolled
and thrusts became more poignant, and our conversation was put on hold. His
grip on reality was lost as he came inside me, his body stiffening as it was
enveloped in the feeling. Slowly my prince came back to me his fingers clawing
protectively in my hair as his head lowered to the nape of my neck.

“Bulma…” He still
rocked slightly in me. “I was not jealous. I knew you would come crawling to
me. You need me…” His voiced dropped to the barest of whispers, “…and I
need you. Warn that insect you call a business associate to keep his lusts to
himself, because so help me Dende if he so much as looks at you in that way
again, I will take great pleasure in ripping his weak pathetic body to pieces
limb by limb! Do you understand me?”

“I understand
Vegeta.”

He gave me a curt
nod and extracted himself from inside me, pulling me gently up by the hand from
my completely dishevelled desk. Almost instantly my shoulders slumped, as the
reality of the situation was sinking in. I understood Vegeta’s words were not
to be taken lightly, but how the hell was I supposed to stop the perverseness
of such a seasoned hentai? It was absolutely impossible.

A hand landed
roughly on my shoulder, disturbing my thoughts. Vegeta’s head lowered and he
used a finger to lift my chin. He seemed to study my face for a moment before
he spoke. “The answer is simple Bulma. Stay away from him. Your father can
handle his finances well enough.”

I nodded mutely,
completely unconvinced by his attempted words of comfort. He had his back to me
as he pulled his trousers back on and buttoned up his shirt. His head tipped to
the side as he stared out into the corridor. “I would make yourself scarce for
the rest of the evening. It sounds as if your guests haven’t finished with
their free champagne yet.”

“They’ll be here
for a while Vegeta, the dancing hasn’t even started yet, and I’ll be expected
to lead the example. Care to join me?”

“No.” he said with
perfect calm.

“Would you prefer
I danced with Mr. Simmons?”

“No!” he repeated
with heightened agitation.

“Then what’s a
girl to do? I’m certainly not dancing with dad! Besides it would be nice to
introduce the world to my husband. You’ve become something of a talking point.”

“How so?”

“Just in your
illusiveness. The Herald ran an article last month on the subject. I think the
headline was something like… ‘Bulma Briefs’ Immaculate Conception’ I think they
finally came to the conclusion that Trunks was either the result of a final
fling between myself and Yamcha, after our public split, or that I was so
drowned in grief over losing his love that I decided to have a sperm donated
child just to get back at him.”

Vegeta’s face was
an amusing mixture of disbelief and utter contempt, “Fucking journalists!
Surely even they can put two and two together. Don’t they have those
damned pictures of us on your fathers yacht?”

“Oh come on Vegeta
they were taken by a boozed up teenager on the back of a jet ski five years
ago. They were so blurred and out of focus that it could have been just about
anyone! Only my hair and the livery on the side of the yacht gave me away. Everyone
else seemed to assume I was with Yamcha given that all you could see was black
spiked hair.”

“Perhaps this is
true,” he deliberated, “but people saw us together earlier.”

“Oh yeah!” I said
sarcastically, rubbing my temples. “They saw us talking to each other in a room
full of guests for all of five minutes. Lets stop the press!”

“I don’t
understand why it is so important to you?” he conceded, picking up the carved
sculpture of Shenlong that adorned my desk, and looking over it curiously,
“What exists between us is private. I am not about to broadcast it to the whole
of Chikyu. Its bad enough that the Z fighters know.”

I walked over to
him, placing a hand on his shoulder, which he tensed almost immediately. I can
still feel the way my heart clenched at the indecision in his eyes. “I can’t
stay away from Mr. Simmons.” I reasoned with him, “Dad handed complete control
of Capsule Corporation over to me two years ago. He’s retired now. I have to
deal with this my own way. I think he just needs to realize that I’m not
available. The press seem to think I’m free. Its possible he thinks so too.
Dance with me tonight and shut all the assholes up once and for all. Whadda ya
say?”

At first Vegeta
looked distrustful, but slowly his face turned into such a profoundly evil
smirk, that I almost regretted my persuasiveness. “It sounds like we have been
mates far too long. You know just which buttons to press onna! But…” he warned,
“If we are going to do this then it will be under my dictation. Lets
give the snivelling baka’s a good show. I will not give in until I get it
through every single one of their vain heads that Bulma Briefs belongs to one
creature and one creature alone… ME!”

I didn’t even get
a chance to say anything in response. He walked briskly to the office door
before I could find the words, leaving the snapped order of, “Hurry the fuck
up!” as he disappeared down the hall.

I stayed still a
fraction longer wondering what the fuck I had just talked myself into, as I
carefully smoothed my dress and readjusted my hair and make up. I remember
feeling sick with the mixture of expectation and doubt that churned through me.
Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the scene that was to take place
on the innocence of a crowded dance floor that evening and I now hang my head
in shame as I recall the breaking point.

“Damn you Vegeta!”
I whisper in the present, my voice filtering dejectedly around the empty
bedroom, as a tear falls over my cheek, “You had nothing to prove!”