I'll be your woman | By : Vegetaswriter Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 6954 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any characters nor do I make money from this.... I wish........ |
Chapter 8
The blips and dings from the mechanical equipment buzzed through the heiress head, pen tapping mindlessly against the plans of her new important invention, and yet her mind wasn’t present on her task. The numbers on the grid became nothing more to her then just scribbles of a toddler, pursing her lips, her mind continued to wander. It has been nearly two weeks since she abandoned herself to the Prince’s demands, and nothing more has came from it, sure she seen him around, it was hard not to bump into one another occasionally in her complex; yet nothing came of it. She would bow in greeting and he would grunt at her as if she was an insect. Needless to say, she wasn’t pleased.
She had hoped for more, anything really, yet, nothing at all. Maybe he had changed his mind of her? Deciding a romantic entanglement was a useless tactic in the grand scheme of his goals; in which didn’t sit with her wants and desires. How could he give her a piece of such delicious wickedness and not follow through? No, she was Bulma Briefs, and she be damned if she didn’t get what she wanted. She had to get it out of her system, her work has been failing; she was far too concentrated on her house guest to accomplish much of anything, and her work was essential to the oncoming threat.
With a mighty stretch she left, leaving her work and inventions behind; she wasn’t making any progress with it anyways. Making her way throughout the integrate complex of C.C, only stopping to scan her mail; more photo shoot opportunities poured in, science weekly were never ones to give up, nearly begging her to be placed on the front cover. She would be flattered, naturally, and yes, she was quite egotistical with her beauty, something she had no shame in admitting: but the idea of old geeky men drooling over her picture didn’t sit well with her, at least posing for the fashion magazines were a multiplicity of people from all walks of life admiring her beauty.
A letter from Yamcha was mixed among the magnitude of paper, she was torn, she wanted to read it just for the ego boost knowing exactly what was written far before she opened it, the usual I am sorry, I love, you, you’re beautiful, etc, etc would be written in fine ink, naturally professionally done, Yamcha’s hand writing was like a little boy doing his best to stay within the lines, but that was what you get living out in a desert all your life really, ignorance. Yet, she was afraid, unsure how her feelings would be affected, how many times had she said she would never take the man back? Only to read his apologies, the compliments, and fall for the idea he presented; not for the real reason of ‘love’. As tough of a woman she is, the little things still wormed its way into her heart. Yamcha was her first, and nothing could take that away, and she was perfectly fine with it. She never regretted being with Yamcha, well, perhaps she regretted being with Yamcha all the years when she realized there wasn’t anything really left into the relationship.
Maybe she should call him, make amends, agree upon a final conclusion of their rocky relationship and end any romantic hopes he had, because she was head over heels for…
“You’ve been holding that paper for a long time woman, having a moment of regrets are we?” Bulma stood still, she never heard the man come near; had she really been that unfocused of her surroundings. She could feel his breath pass by her neck, leaning back slightly, only enough to skim the naked chest behind her, she shuddered from the feeling of the heat radiating behind her. Her usual quick wit and her known viper tongue silenced by this man’s presents, and her yearning for him crippling her. “Do you wish for me to give you up, so you may run back into that weakling arms?” His guttural voice vibrated in her ear, his tone; cocky and mocking all in the same.
Her mind wailed ‘No, never, not now’ yet her tongue didn’t move, her mouth sealed together by the thundering feel of this alien. Her body wanting nothing more then to give up, her mind becoming nothing more than mush to his presents; she had became a woman deprived of her longing and she didn’t want anything else but his sheer power.
The sound of her mother’s bubbly voice left her standing cold, the blistering heat and presence gone within a flash, leaving her to wonder if he was there at all. “Oh Bulma sweetie, are you around?”
The blonde came in with a swoosh of her dress, the permanent smile lighting up the room, dissipating the dark looming ardour that once occupied it. She let out an erratic breath, her hand coming to her chest, feeling her heart pound with fervour. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Oh, goody!” Her mother paused, giving her time to compose herself. “Sweetie is everything okay? You look flustered.”
“Yes mother, I am fine.” She weaved a hand through her hair, and smiled. “Everything is fine mother, is there something you want mom?”
“Yes, I went shopping today and bought this!” Bunny pulled out a tray of an array of treats from out of no where, literally, which made Bulma raise a brow; her mother was down right silly and strange; but the treats presented looked mighty fine to her.
“Yeah, I think I am in need of a sugar crash mom.” Bulma was more than happy to indulge, a trait she gained from her mother, her father on the other hand, all he wanted was his coffee and cigarette, then naturally her mother’s five star cooking; too bad she didn’t get the skill, but she couldn’t complain, as a trade off she got her father’s brilliance.
Vegeta kicked off his boots, uncaring where they landed, he was pissed. His woman, his female holding onto a letter of an old lover as if it was as precious as gold, how dare she be so insolent: if this was his home planet she would have been killed, and the weakling for corresponding; but this wasn’t. He should have scared her, act out accordingly with violence, yet all he had done was…played… with her in a sexual manner. He was loosing his edge, this female was doing something to him, and he didn’t like it one bit. The moment he spoke he felt her, at first he mistaken it as fear, until he clearly felt her move more back against him, scent and feel her desire, which nearly sent him sailing to the moon, he watched transfixed as the pulse in her neck throbbed wildly, he wanted to brush his lips against it, taste her exhilaration and thrill.
He knew he had a power over her, her body’s need for his own was strong, no far more than strong, but nearly rivalling a Super Saiyans power, and his rock hard evidence of his own need for her body was far more than evident, even now it throbbed for the blue haired one. His desire was great for her, and the night he gained some relief made him want her all the more, he knew why, it wasn’t a matter of questioning. The woman held as much pride as he, and to watch her pride break beneath him was more than a thrill, the power rush he felt, the utter victory over her, darken soul demanded more of it.
He was troubled, the sheer desire for that woman was consuming him and making him feel such heights, it scared him, yes it did. Scared that he would loose himself to her, become a slave to her honey, and she would give readily. He was afraid that his baser instinctual needs would consume him and all he would end up doing is staying in a bed with the woman beside him, constantly fucking, never training, never to reach his goals. He was a Saiyan Prince, he couldn’t do that, he had far more pressing things to accomplish, then fucking a woman; he needed to train, become a super Saiyan, destroy the bucket of bolts, and slaughter Kakarot to regain his honour and title of being the best.
But firstly, he needed a shower, looking down he noted, a long cold shower. Forget the woman. But maybe, once everything is said and done, he would take her where ever he roamed, a bed companion would be good to kill the boredom of space travel.
Bulma walked in to the dark kitchen in nothing more than a blue tee and underwear, enjoying the eerie silence of the hallways, the events of the morning still playing in her mind, over and over like a broken record. Instead of feeling the longing as she normally would, she felt utterly irritated, and generally pissed off. Give her up? All for what? Because she was holding a letter of an ex-lover, if anything her anger was justified. Vegeta kept toying with her desires, leading her on like a dog on a leash, what else did he wanted from her. She submitted to him, gave him what he asked for and still he toyed with her. Nearly two weeks felt as if a year had past, she couldn’t even relief the edge of her desires, curb them into a tolerable level any longer.
Her frustrations affecting her work, her life, and simple mundane tasks; getting a glass of water came with difficulties, unable to hold the glass steady, her writing became nothing more then chicken scratches, and the headaches, of the headaches were the worse. Almost stomping to the fridge she pulled out the jug, grabbing a glass slamming it down, her aim inefficient, causing the cold icy water to spill on her hand, bringing a string of un-lady like words from her mouth.
“Forget how to pour water woman?” She tensed, cussing under her breath; she turned, seeing the man plaguing her mind and souring her mood sitting nonchalantly at the table, a glass of yellowish liquid in hand. She sniffed the air recognizing it as whiskey, looking down to his feet she noticed an standing empty bottle.
Her anger melted away with curiousness. “Are you drunk?”
Vegeta raised a fine brow. “That’s not how you greet your master.” He smirked, waiting for the woman to correct her mistake, yet all he received was a returned raised brow. With a grunt and sneer he grumbled. “No, I am not drunk. You earthlings can’t even make a drink powerful enough to intoxicate me.” Vegeta pulled up the empty bottle by the tips of his fingers, letting it sway in the air. “Maybe another one of these would assist in the impairment I seek.” He smirked.
Bulma gauged him, looking him over; he claims not to feel any effect yet his slow movements, and how easily he dropped the subject of her insubordination said a different story. Then it clicked, her master, like hell he was her master, not after what he been putting her through. “Fuck you!”
His brow frowned, and glared. “What was that? I must be hearing wrong.”
“No, your hearing quite fine actually. I said fuck you, you asshole! How dare you say I am your slave huh? You do nothing at all! Makes me wonder Vegeta.” Bulma crossed her arms, knowing perfectly well all her plans could just fly out the window with this stunt.
“What are you implying woman?” Vegeta’s low raspy growl was bouncing off the walls.
“What I am implying ass-hole, is that you’re scared of women! Are you gay? Do you want me to get a man for you huh? Would you like for me to dress up like your dear Kakarot, or is Krillen more your flavour, you know, since he is smaller than you?”
Vegeta was nearly in shock, where the heel did the woman get those idea’s from, quickly he glance in his cup, he confirmed he was the one drinking here. He felt his brow and lip twitch, and before the woman could open her loud mouth again he pounced. His hand holding her neck, the other clasped around her mouth, and with a show of power he held her tightly, knowing full well she would bruise. “I hush that disgusting mouth of yours weakling.” His heart pumped with excitement when the woman’s eyes flashed with anger and promises of death, he knew that look; he had worn it countless times himself. Her pulse banged against his fingers, how easy it would be to snap her neck, effortless really. His bloodlust rising with each throb of her veins beneath his hand, each pull of air she breathed; such a pity to kill something so delectable. “You think me gay woman?” He released her throat so his hand could roam her curves. “Because I haven’t… ‘graced’ your body with my cock?” Vegeta chuckled bringing her closer, his hand gained a tighter hold of her mouth, moving his index and thumb to her nose he plugged it.
“Maybe you’re too weak to handle me woman. I can kill you effortlessly; you can’t save yourself from my hold, can you?” Vegeta un-pinched her nose, allowing her to breath. “Maybe I don’t find you as attractive as you believe yourself to be. Maybe I’m just not interested in what your weak body is offering.”
Bulma heart raced, Vegeta was positively cruel, but she was the one to bring out his cruelty by her remarks. She smirked beneath his palm, slowly raising her knee to steadily rub against the rock hard cock of the Prince, letting him know, that she knew he was bluffing, he wanted her more then he let on.
Vegeta smirked. “Wicked little earthling.” This woman was something to contend with, here she is, staring at death with fiery eyes and enticing. “Let me show you how ‘gay’ I am.” His hand fisted in the tee she wore, ripping it from her body, pleased by the bouncing breast free from undergarments, her breast were swelled with excitement, her pink nipples darkening with desire and hard; his eyes feasted. His free hand came up and pawed them, pulling on the nip, twisting slowly with force making the defenceless woman half moan and choke under his ministrations.
Bulma’s head tilted, giving free range to the Prince, giving in, allowing what she wanted, and needed to consume her; she would take anything he dished out, she would accept all his violent love.
Vegeta destroyed the cloth hiding the woman’s intimate part in the same manner he had her shirt. He felt her legs sway, seen how she trembled with excitement for him, and him only. He touched her, sliding his hand to cup her womanhood, his index slowly moving up and down the slit, already feeling the heat and slickness coming from her. He chuckled, his mouth nearing her ear, he whispered to her in his deep masculine voice, knowing full well the effects it had one her. “Such a vulgar woman, you’re slicking my finger and I haven’t parted your lips. Did that weakling ever made you feel like this?”
Bulma shook her head, it was true, no man has ever brought this out in her, Yamcha always had to do extensive foreplay before she would be as slick as she was now, and the Prince had barley done a damn thing in comparison with the other. She nearly squealed when she was manhandled to the table, the Prince never letting her mouth free, keeping her silent.
Vegeta fumbled slightly, pulling out his dripping cock, he felt her tense under him and he didn’t stifle his chuckle. “I think you are for more than ready for me woman.” Vegeta pulled himself up, his hand keeping the viper mouth shut and holding her pin to the table top. He started to run his cock up and down the slit spreading and mixing their slick moisture. He felt her breath caught in her throat, and he gave her an evilly wicked smile. “I am just giving you what you want, because I want to.” Then he became serious. “You have no hold over me woman.”
Vegeta thrust forward, filling the woman whole: he sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, awed by how tight the woman was, nearly chocking his cock in its taut clutches. The woman’s scream was muffled by his hand, he felt the vibrations course through his palm, feel her teeth graze it with an upward stroke, knowing full well her mouth was wide open. He smelt the light scent of blood and knew he had stretched her beyond her limits with his girth; instead of being a gentleman and stopping the Prince growled low and pulled himself outwards, the tip of his cock at her entrance he slammed back in, another muffled scream from her, and another hiss from him. He done the movements until her screams became grunts, and his hisses halted.
Vegeta pulled his hand from her mouth finally releasing her, his hands became more occupied in grasping her hips steady for his thrusts. He watched her, watched in awe as she took him, her brow frowning, signs of pain; he didn’t care, he was enjoying himself. He started a hard rhythm, half in half out, in quick secessions, grunting with each thrust forward; one hand venturing off to seize a hold of a bouncing bosom.
Bulma panted harshly, the pain was stinging, and she didn’t want it to stop; it felt like she was a virgin being deflowered, the pain slowly becoming dull and the friction and swelling intensifying into something wonderful. More she needed more. In a choppy from of speech she egged on the Prince. “That’s all you got?”
Vegeta smirked, pulling himself completely free from the woman’s humid depths. He snagged her hair hauling her from the table, giving her a push forward, making her land on her hands and knees. In a second he was on her, grasping her hair in a tight grip, pushing her down more: his free hand holding her hips up. “You want more? You want to be fucked like an animal?”
Bulma moaned as he done just that, slamming forward and pulling back with such speed and forced she could never phantom, the pain and pleasure mixing and colliding together in an evil symphony, sung and played by a diabolical choir. She welcomed the feeling of damnation, corrupted by her evil Prince of darkness; tasting the sweet juice of forbidden fruit, by Kami what would her friends think of her now if they knew?
Her body slipped and slide against the heated tiled floors from her sweat, the pressure building higher and higher; she knew tomorrow she wouldn’t be able to move for awhile. Vegeta’s sac’s smacking against her clit with each brazen and forceful pound inwards making her nearly shriek from every blot of sensations wracked through her. If she died tonight, she die happy.
Vegeta grunted and hissed through the pleasure demolishing him, the slick feel of the woman dragging him downward and skyward in an instance. He could feel the tightening and throbbing of his sac a sign he was nearing his end. His vision becoming blurry and he wondered why he waited so long to sample this slice of heaven; the closest he’ll ever get. He felt her body clench and loosen around him, felt her walls quiver and gush. He smirked pleased that she came, felt the slickness drip down his balls, and cool instantly, making him nearly quiver. He powered up, pounding with more force feeling her hips creak and joint crack; she’s tough, she could handle it. He locked his hips to hers and spilled his seed deep within her in gushes. His head fell between her shoulder blades as his hips jerked from the after-wave of his climax. He pulled himself out with a hiss, still semi hard, he tucked himself in standing tall, swaying from the blood rush, he first steps were stumbled and queer from his powerful release, until he gained control. He left her there, still in the position, unmoving, only her back moved up and down with each gulp of air she pulled in. He spared a last glance at the woman, seeing his seed slowly drip down to the cold floor, his face grim.
I think it has been far too long since I updated this fic, sorry guys, been caught up with my other ones, this one got lost in the cracks… *Bad V.W!* any-who my comments on this chapter. We all know the series, and in the English dub, yeah I am using the English dub! Future Trunks said it was a one time thing, and Vegeta is very ‘goal’ orientated in the android saga, I cannot see it going beyond a ‘one-time thing’, and naturally Vegeta is an asshole, and Bulma’s patience finally worn out. But lucky for her it was in her favour. Next chapter will be of course Bulma’s monolog skimming through the android saga, going into more detail about the Prince, and of course touching on what he done, leaving her to die tsk tsk, thank whatever deity for future Trunks lol.
Reviews
TSFrules- hahah I would love to see that!! Thank you for reviewing, and I’m rooting for Bulma as well and shivering as I think about a bad ass Vegeta haha.
Bj- Thank you, glad you like, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Rate, Review, do it all, happy to hear from you all the bad and the good.
Until next time in a land far, far away V.W
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