On Set

-07 ...Makes Perfect-

(Pertaining to FFnets rules, this chapter's smut has been edited. Please read the unedited version on AO3)

The bathroom mirror squeaked as Vegeta wiped the moisture off with his fist. The wet silvery shine reflected back an expression he had spent years schooling: his trademark 'I-will-fucking-end-you' glare. Such a fearsome face might have fooled the mirror, but Vegeta couldn't fool himself so easily. Behind his stoic mask, a sea of turmoil raged. Waves frothed and foamed, beating him into the rocks of his insecurities. He was being drowned, dragged under the current, choking on his anxiety.

How had he ended up in this situation? Vegeta replayed recent events in his mind, trying to make sense of it all. He tormented himself with every action, every spoken word and unspoken gesture, and watched the chain of events unfold in his mind's eye like some elaborate Rube Goldberg machine. Maybe if he analyzed it closely enough, he could see the moment that had led him here, standing in the bathroom of their apartment in only his underwear, trying to muster up the nerve to go to Bulma's room so that they could… 'practice'.

For porn.

…Seriously. How the fuck did this happen?!

"Are you okay in there?" Bulma called from across the hall.

Vegeta grimaced, his shoulders hunching against her concern. Of course he wasn't fucking okay. He was suffocating: the bathroom was stifling with humidity from his recent shower and his own self-imposed claustrophobia. He wanted to leave the room, but doing so meant facing her, and Vegeta wasn't sure he was capable of that.

How the fuck did one practice sex? And why the fuck had he agreed?

Well, he knew why. It was because of her, of course. What part of his life didn't revolve around her lately? The image of her, tiny and crying in Kame Studios resurfaced, and with it, a promise he had made.

"I just w-wish it could have been you."

"…Okay."

His consent shocked everyone — himself most of all. Only Eighteen appeared unfazed, watching him sign his Kame Studios contract with the biggest, know-it-all smirk possible on her stupid bitchy face, but Vegeta had kept quiet for Bulma's sake. He was given instructions on where to get STD tested, then told to take Bulma home to await their new script and shoot date. Handing back Bulma's paycheck had hurt, but not nearly as much knowing as if Goku had fucked her.

But now that the shock had worn off and a few days had passed, Vegeta was left with the awful weight of what he had promised. Worst of all, Bulma was determined that she — they — would be ready this time. By practicing.

"Fuck," Vegeta whispered to his reflection. He looked sickly. Fuck, this was ridiculous, he was making too much out of this. It was just sex, just fucking. Sure, it might be awkward that they lived together, but they were both adults, both mature people. Okay, mostly mature… Sometimes. They could occasionally understand mature concepts.

"Fuck," he repeated, smacking his brow against the cold mirror and scrunching his eyes shut.

"Vegeta?" Bulma called again. He felt the sand in his hourglass running out.

"Jesus Christ, Bulma, would you give me FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?"

"I've given you thirty! Are we doing this or not?"

She was right. He was stalling. Five minutes or five hours, it wasn't going to change anything. It wasn't going to change his receding hairline, or the horrible scars littering his body. It wouldn't change his face which could make serial killers sweat, or that he was only a couple inches taller than she was (if he stood up straight and she wasn't wearing heels). And it wouldn't change the fact that he was the world's biggest asshole — which until recently he had taken pride in, until she had picked him up, dusted him off, and made him into her… roommate? Friend?

She wanted it to be you.

Why?

He didn't know. What could she see in him? As far as he could tell, the only thing Vegeta had going for him was that he was fit. He wasn't handsome in the traditional way, and he certainly wasn't kind or trustworthy or those other qualities that most women seemed attracted to. He couldn't see the appeal of himself for someone as sharp-witted and cultured as her. But Bulma had asked for him, and against his better judgement, he agreed.

Because, let's face it, he wanted to fuck her. That had become very apparent. He couldn't sleep at night without thinking of her soft skin and heated moans, of his fingers buried inside her. The memories left him half-hard and aching, and reaching for the lotion.

Yes, he wanted to fuck her. And not just because she was beautiful, although that was certainly part of it. She was challenging. She was smart, strong, and stubborn enough to withstand his temper. Although she talked a lot, she rarely overstepped her bounds. She respected his privacy, something which he was infinitely grateful for. And most baffling of all was that she respected his opinion. When was the last time he felt respected? Feared? Yes. Obeyed? Sure. But respected? Yeah, right.

Yet she did. For reasons that still baffled him, Bulma actually gave his points of view consideration and weight, finding them worthy of discussion, even when they didn't align with her own. She valued and trusted him, and in doing so, he found himself valuing and trusting her back. Wasn't that scary? When was the last time he trusted anyone?

Maybe that's why she was the first woman he yearned to fuck, and also why he was terrified of doing so. He didn't — couldn't — fuck this up.

Still, standing in the bathroom wasn't solving anything. If he kept her waiting any longer, she was going to yell at him again. It was now or never.

With a final hard look at himself, Vegeta exited the bathroom and approached her bedroom door. He cleared his throat, ignoring the sickening churning of his gut, and knocked.

"You decent?" he asked.

"Am I supposed to be?"

Oh. Right.

Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, Vegeta opened the door and stepped inside.

Sunlight lit her room. It was so warm and bright compared to the night, when her room was masked in shadows and soft lamp light, just as it had been a few nights ago when she invited him to watch her cum. That evening had felt surreal and dream-like. The harsh exposure of day was making things feel far too real.

Bulma lay atop her sunlight dappled bed, wearing only a dark tube top and pale blue panties. Decent, at least by her standards. Vegeta wasn't sure if he felt disappointed or not. She was looking down at her lap, making notes in a notebook.

He glanced around, standing uncomfortably in her doorway. There were tissues, lube, and condoms on her bedside table. Their presence was intimidating more than confidence inducing.

"Holy shit it's about time," Bulma complained at his arrival.

His eye twitched. She was using the same tone for when he came home late or forgot to do some chore about the apartment. Folding his arms over his chest, Vegeta glared at her from the corner of his vision. "Like you didn't take two fucking hours," he grouched back. She had been in the bathroom far longer than he had.

"Well, you can't rush perfection," she replied, still not looking up as she wrote.

They lapsed into silence. The seconds ticked by, each one growing more painful than the last. Vegeta shifted his weight. Was he supposed to do something, say something? The tension grew, and with it, his discomfort. Why the hell was he standing here in his goddamn underpants like a moron?

"So," Bulma said, interrupting the silence. "You going to sit down, or continue standing there like a Men's Health model?" She looked up at him, smiling, and patted the bed.

He fought very hard not to blush.

"Tch."

He approached the bed, sitting opposite her. Her bodywash's scent, fresh and sweet, clung to her, a tantalizing aroma that beckoned him closer. He could see that she had shaved, her long legs smooth and pulled up to support her notebook that she had gone back to scribbling in. What the hell could be so important that she was making notes at a time like this?

"The fuck are you doing?" he finally asked, irked by her divided attention.

"Making a list of 'okays'."

"A list of what?"

"Okays," Bulma repeated. "What I find acceptable in bed."

"You have a list?"

"You don't?"

Vegeta made an indignant sound. "No."

"Really? So what do you like to do when you're with someone?"

The hell kind of question was that? Wasn't it the same for everyone? He liked to cum… What else was there? But Vegeta was getting the impression that he might be missing something, so he lapsed into embarrassed silence.

"You should make a list," Bulma suggested when he didn't reply. "It will be good for me to know your turn-ons and turn-offs." Looking up from her notes, she gave him a playful smile and pointed at him with her pen. "C'mon. What turns you on?"

His face contorted the same way it did when he ate something unpleasant. "I am not telling you that."

"Why not?"

"Because!"

"I think it's kind of important that I know."

"Tch."

She raised the pen up to tap her lip, her expression turning thoughtful. "Hmm…Is it stockings?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Spanking?"

"No." Why the hell would he hit his partner in bed?

"Blow jobs?"

He could barely choke out an answer, his face burning red, smacked in the face with the memory of her mouth about his dick. "Bulma," he growled in warning. "Enough!"

A knowing smirk curled her lips. "Interesting," she purred.

Fucking bitch.

Thankfully, she lowered her gaze to finish her notes, allowing him to burn with humiliation in private. She added a few more things before putting down her pencil and offering him her notes.

"Here."

Vegeta hesitated, not sure he was prepared to read what she had written. But it had to be better than thinking about blow jobs and his spiraling self-doubt. He took the notebook and read it over.

Holy shit she had written a lot. The entire page was scrawled over, detailing sexual acts she found okay or not okay.

"How many goddamn okays do you have?" he asked.

"Oh, those are just the most relevant," Bulma answered, moving in to read with him over his shoulder. Her body heat burned at his back like a second sun. He tried to ignore her as he read her list.

Fingering: okay. Fisting (Jesus Christ): not okay. Cunnilingus: okay. Nipples sucked: not okay. Wait, what?

"You… don't like your nipples sucked?" he asked, surprised by the bullet-point. Not that he had given it much thought, but Vegeta had just assumed that all women liked their nipples sucked. Wasn't that a thing? A common perception?

Bulma rested her chin on his shoulder. "Eh, not really. Usually the guy is too aggressive and it hurts."

The news threw Vegeta into a slew of brand-new insecurities. Nothing, she made him feel like he knew nothing about sex. Tab A into Slot B; repeat as necessary. That was about the extent of his experience. Thank fuck for Raditz, because that bragging loud-mouth was the only reason Vegeta even knew about the clitoris. That information had served him well enough, but it wasn't until Bulma invited him into her room when knowing about female pleasure — Bulma's pleasure — had become a burning necessity. But how the fuck was he supposed to pleasure her when he didn't even know that her nipples weren't supposed to be sucked on?

Seriously, what the hell? Isn't that what nipples were for?

Not wanting to reveal his ignorance (and rising panic), Vegeta huffed away her answer and continued looking over her notes. But the more he read, the more his stomach dropped. Half the activities she listed weren't things he had ever considered trying. Ear play? Inner thigh play? Why were these even sexual acts? They were just body parts. What was sexy about a goddamn ear? Ice play? The fuck was that? Light BDSM and anal? Holy shit. Bulma was… adventurous. He could barely keep collected while fingering her. How was he going to live up to all this?

The divide between their experience yawned greater and greater, a large black chasm that left him woefully out of her reach and unprepared for the task ahead.

"Hey," she said, startling him out of his thoughts. Their eyes met, his overwhelmed, hers concerned. "It's not a 'to-do' list. And some of these things I haven't even done, but I'm open to trying. I just want to make sure we're both on the same page. I want us to feel confident when the cameras start rolling." She plucked the notebook from his hand and set it aside. When she turned back, she sat next to him cross-legged, and took his hands in hers. It was such a simple gesture, so why did it feel like his heart was about to explode out his chest?

"Let's not get bogged down in details," she suggested.

Thank Christ.

"Let's just… get comfortable being around each other."

Oh no. What did she mean, get comfortable? Get comfortable how? They were around each other all the fucking time. How much more comfortable could they get?

He gave her a wary look. She was examining his body, her eyes roving over his hands, moving up his arms towards his torso. His gut twisted, like a spring winding tighter, crunching. It wasn't the first time she had seen him bare-chested, but it was the first time she had stared at him so openly. Did his body impress her? Or intimidate her? Did he even compare to the other men they had seen at Kame Studios? Vegeta was sure he could take Goku in a fight, but did she think he could? And why the hell did he want her to know that he could? Vegeta clenched his jaw, apprehension mounting. He could feel his hands growing sweaty in hers.

"Nervous?" she asked, giving his damp hands a gentle squeeze.

He flashed her a pained look, dying on the inside but too proud to admit it.

She smiled and squeezed his hands again. "Me too."

Oh.

For some reason that lifted a very heavy weight off his shoulders. The chasm between them shrank.

"You really take very good care of yourself, don't you?" she commented. "Well, other than these—"

Her fingers reached out, touching a jagged scar that split across his shoulder. The wound was long healed, but Bulma's delicate touch felt as piercing as the broken glass had that scarred him.

"Wow, Vegeta. How did you get this?" she asked, her fingers ghosting the old wound. It awoke old insecurities, dredging them from their grave. He rolled his shoulder out from under her fingers and looked away, scowling, his skin still burning from her touch.

"Don't remember," he lied. He didn't care to expose himself to her any more than he already was.

"It looks like it must have hurt," she sympathized. It had, but Vegeta didn't like dwelling on the past. Nothing good came of that.

"Which ones do you remember?" she insisted, her eyes eating up the other scars scattered across his torso. She touched a thin line decorating his ribs, tracing where the blade of some street-punk had once sliced him. Vegeta's skin tightened, his nipples peaking at her caress. Damn her.

He grabbed her hand. "Talking about my past will just sour the mood."

She blinked at him, and for a moment he thought he had said too much. But if he had, she said nothing about it, instead threading her fingers with his. It occurred to him that they were holding hands, because of him.

"Okay, sorry," she said. "Touchy subject. But I meant what I said."

"About?"

"That you have a very nice body. I'm glad it will be you."

Something squeezed the air from his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He glanced at her, ready to tell her to stop fucking with him, but her shy, genuine smile melted away his vitriol. Which was a problem, because Vegeta didn't know how to react to an actual compliment.

"Tch. I'm only doing this because Kakarot looked so goddamn incompetent," he grouched, avoiding her eyes. "And so we can pay some fucking bills."

"Uh huh."

She didn't believe him, but thankfully was too polite to call him out. Her thumbs brushed over his own, soothing him the same way one might a wild animal. His throat closed up, and he wondered if this could get any worse.

"Do you want to touch me?" she offered.

Universe, you are a massive cunt.

Dredging up the ability to talk despite his sandy mouth, Vegeta asked, "Why?"

"To get more familiar with me?"

He scoffed. "I'm already pretty fucking familiar." How could he not be? He had seen her in her underwear, and out of it. He had cum all over her tongue, and held her breasts in his hands. He had fingered her. Twice. So really, Vegeta didn't think there was much else left to get familiar with. Was there?

"Well, in that case—" Bulma said, removing her hands from his and turning towards the table. The loss of her touch was instantly felt, his fingers curling up like a dying spider's legs. "I suppose we should talk logistics."

"Logistics?" Vegeta liked logistics; he was usually good with those, but for some reason when she said the word, it did not fill him with confidence.

"Yep."

Bulma picked up an envelope from the bedside table and waved it at him. The Kame Studios stamp in the corner mocking his morale.

"Roshi wrote that we don't have to do anything too fancy. There's four basic parts: blow job, fingering, sex position one, and sex position two." Bulma gave him a coquettish look. "I guess we've practiced the foreplay already. So, regarding the sex positions, Roshi gave some simple suggestions but said he's flexible. Whatever we're comfortable with. Haha, he probably doesn't want another cancelled shoot."

"Right," Vegeta managed to reply, what little confidence he had remaining was rapidly souring.

"So, big guy," she said, her pretty aqua eyes on him and a sultry smile forming. "What are you comfortable with?"

It wasn't so much a question of 'what' as it was 'who'. Vegeta wasn't comfortable with a lot things: intimacy, companionship, trust, in fact, just about everything made him suspicious. But he was comfortable with her, or as comfortable as he was capable of being. It was Bulma, just Bulma. This was the woman he rolled his eyes at, argued with, made sarcastic commentary to, shared food with, watched surreptitiously from the corner of his eye, and lately masturbated to. He could put up with a lot of shit — had done so already — if she was there to ease him through it.

He could do this. With her.

"We should take the old man's advice and keep it simple," Vegeta said.

Bulma nodded. "Right. Simple." She pulled out the letter and read it aloud for his convenience, her finger tapping over each bullet-point. "Okay. So, there's standard missionary. That's easy. Cowgirl: that's when the girl is on top, in case you didn't know," she teased. "And —ooh!"

"What?"

"Up against the wall. Oh my god, I've never tried that," she gushed with enthusiasm. She gave him an appraising look before glancing back at the paper. "Uh, well… Maybe another time."

That was a dramatic change of hear. "What, why?" he asked.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "It might be a little… advanced."

"Advanced?" he repeated, feeling his eyes narrow. She was using that tone, the one that meant she was tip-toeing around a subject that might offend.

"Well, we don't even know if you can lift me."

Oh, he was definitely offended. The hell did she think she was talking to? If he could haul Nappa's ass all the way across West Side after a brawl at 2 in the morning, he could certainly lift a tiny thing like her. Had she not seen him work out, used him to lift heavy things and open every jar that passed through the goddamn apartment? Couldn't lift her?! As if.

His pride on the line, Vegeta stood with a snort of contempt, and scooped her into his arms, bridal style. As expected, she weighed nothing.

"I think I'll survive," he drawled.

~xox~

One moment they were sitting on the bed, the next Bulma was lifted into a pair of very large, very powerful arms. She yelped and braced herself on Vegeta's strong shoulders, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest like a caged butterfly. She was no stranger to muscles, but damn, Vegeta was in a category all of his own. Bodice ripper covers, eat your heart out. He felt hot, his body still radiating heat from his recent shower. She could feel every inch of his searing skin where it burnt against her own. He smelled like the sandalwood soap she had bought for him, and like himself, a unique masculine quality that she had grown achingly familiar with over their time together. The scent of it — of him — had remained on her sheets and lingered in her memory long after he had made her cum. Right here. With the same big, strong hands he was now holding her with.

And boy was she hoping for an encore.

Such thoughts were banished when Vegeta stared at her with hard, black eyes. His gaze pinned her, making her feel small and trapped, like a gazelle caught under the maw of a powerful predator. He sneered, displeased that she had doubted his strength. The arrogant curl of his lip did things to her she wasn't especially proud of.

"I think I'll survive."

The smug sonovabitch.

Well, he might survive, but her panties wouldn't, not at this rate.

"I suppose so," she replied with a nervous laugh, her gut doing summersaults. "All these muscles aren't just for show, huh?"

"Hardly."

She wrapped her arms tighter abound his neck and sank into his support. If he was going to carry her like a princess, then she may as well enjoy the ride.

"How long do you think you can hold me like this?" she asked, her fingers playing with the short tufts of hair at the back of his neck.

He huffed, still giving her the stink eye, but it didn't have the effect he was probably hoping for. The more annoyed he grew, the cuter she found him. Once upon a short time ago, his sneers and sour temperament had intimidated her, for about a hot minute, but now she just found them — and him — endearing. Yep, her little crush was still in full effect. After all, it was easy to feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy towards a man who had given her the most amazing orgasm of her recent months, maybe even years, and who had been there for her like a knight in thread-bare armor when she had melted down on set. And now he had agreed to do porn with her. She was still riding that high and had hardly slept in days because of it. He could scoff and scowl and complain all he liked but it didn't change the fact that he was willing to help her out. That had to mean something, right?

Damn, why did she always fall for these good-looking bad-boy types?

When will you ever learn, Bulma Briefs.

"The old man said against the wall, right?" Vegeta asked, his gaze shifting to look behind her.

Bulma blinked, taking a second to remember. "Um, yep. Against the wall."

"Hn."

Without warning, Vegeta changed his grip. His hands shifted, squeezing about her tiny waist, electric trails of fire left in the wake of his fingers' on her bare skin. With one effortless motion, he hoisted her up until they were face to face. Bulma wrapped her legs around his hips without needing to be told. They fit together perfectly, interlacing as one. She felt so delicate in his arms, his brute strength causing something warm and submissive to bloom inside her. She tightened her hold about his neck, and hoped that he didn't notice that her breathing had accelerated.

In three large strides, Vegeta walked them to the wall and pressed her against it, and Bulma suddenly learned a whole new appreciation for the expression "caught between a rock and a hard place". He leaned into her, his hips crushing her legs wide open. Their faces mere inches apart, his brow looming over hers. Bulma knew she was in big, big trouble.

Breathe, girl. Breathe.

"Like this?" he asked, his breath feathering over her lips. Holy shit, his voice was deep, huskier than usual, like gravel crunching underfoot. He stared her right in the eyes, unflinching, waiting for her reply. Though they both had their underwear on, Bulma felt completely fucked.

"Uh-huh," she stuttered.

"Then it's fine. I could do this for hours."

H-hours? Oh, he meant hold her up. Right.

Get it together, girl.

His eyes trailed down, giving her a very thorough, unapologetic once-over. "What about you?" he asked.

"Wh-what? Me?"

"How long can you last?"

"Last?" she echoed weakly, her cheeks blushing.

A hint of a smile played on his mouth. "How long can you hold on to me?"

Oh.

"I… I don't know."

"Tch. I figured," Vegeta said. "Given how weak you are."

She tensed, her eyes narrowing. "I am not weak." She puffed up her chest in an assertion of her statement, her bound breasts rubbing against his pectorals.

He made a derisive sound and smirked with superiority. Leaning forward, he quickly put an end to her display of dominance, crushing the air from her lungs. His lower abs pressed into her pelvis and— please, please, please don't let him notice how wet her panties were getting.

"Bulma," he whispered, his grin wolfish, his tone oddly affectionate. "You're the tiniest, weakest person I know."

Dear god. Mercy.

"I'm strong where it counts," she somehow replied, lifting her chin in an attempt to appear more collected than she felt.

Vegeta chuckled, the sound liquid aphrodisiac. "It's not your brain that I'm concerned about. You said you wanted to be comfortable. Can you manage this position long enough to… to…" His words trailed off, and to her amazement, his cheeks reddened.

Oh god, why was that so cute?

He could huff and puff all he wanted about his brute superiority, but when it came to anything the slightest bit sexual, he fell apart like a cheap sweat-shop toy. Bulma couldn't help herself; the urge to poke at his embarrassment too strong.

"To what?" she asked, curling her fingers at the back of his neck. "To cum? Or to be cummed in?"

His blush worsened, the red stain growing up his neck and ears.

"Must you be so lewd?" he demanded, his face twisting into an embarrassed scowl.

She grinned. "It's not lewd, it's our job. That is what we're doing, isn't it?" she teased, tightening her thighs around his hips.

He ignored her statement, trying to remain focused. "Can you hold on, or not?" he asked testily.

"Hmmm," she hummed, dragging out her answer for as long as possible. "Well, let's see… The wall is a little hard. And we might be stuck like this for a while. They'll need to do re-shoots. Change the camera angle. Stop us to give new directions… With all that in mind, I'm guessing this won't be the most comfortable position to maintain."

He grit his teeth, scowling more fiercely than before. "Is that all?" he asked with heavy sarcasm.

"Hey buddy, you asked for my opinion. I'm just trying to be practical."

"Tch. If you didn't want to do this position, you should have just said so," he grouched, stepping back from the wall, looking extremely put out.

Was he… upset? Had Vegeta actually been keen on fucking her against the wall, or was he just agitated that she hadn't gone gaga over his strength more? Jeez, men and their fragile egos.

Bulma let her legs regretfully unwind and she stood on her own two feet. She kept her hands about his neck, and noticed that his remained on her waist, neither of them immediately pulling away. Vegeta's dark, cat-like eyes watched her cautiously, his expression still miffed. What was going on behind those steely eyes, and why couldn't he just come out and say it instead of leaving her to agonize about his motives?

"The bed?" she suggested, giving a smile in the hopes it would encourage him to loosen up.

It didn't. He stepped away, and the loss of contact was as startling as jumping into ice water. Her body yearned to press against his again. His residual heat was quickly evaporating from her, along with her confidence. Perhaps he felt similarly, because the tension was written as clear as day across his body. He eyed the bed the same wayhe might a snake pit.

Ah, the bed — that great white linen elephant-in-the-room. Getting on it meant practicing. Practicing meant fucking. Fucking meant crossing a line in their relationship that the two of them had only skirted until now. They stood at the bed's fringes, neither taking the plunge, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Well, to hell with this stale mate.

"Top or bottom?" she asked decisively.

Vegeta gave her a dubious look, not understanding the question.

Bulma elaborated. "Do you want to be on the top or bottom for this?"

His jaw tightened. "On top," he said, his tone laced with an unspoken 'obviously'.

Bulma shrugged. "I could see you as a bottom."

The affronted look he gave her said otherwise.

"What?" she asked with a teasing smile. "Not secure enough in your masculinity to let a woman go on top?" She placed a hand on her hip and shot him a sultry smile. "You didn't seem to mind me being on top when I had your cock in my mouth."

Vegeta spluttered in indignation. "Th-that… You… How is that being on top? You were on your knees!"

She grinned, not-so-secretly charmed by how flustered he was. "So? You were sitting and receiving. That counts as me being on top, buster."

"This is a ridiculous conversation," he snapped, putting an end to the discussion by crossing his arms and refusing to look at her. His jaw worked furiously, his body so taut that he would snap at the lightest provocation. Or flee. Oops, that wouldn't be good. Maybe she had gone too far with her teasing.

You're not supposed to be getting under his skin so much as getting under him, genius.

"Okay, okay," she relented. "I'll bottom. Less work for me anyways. We can talk about power bottoms another time." She winked at him before crawling onto the bed, ignoring her furiously beating heart as she got cozy on the sheets. Vegeta didn't move, still scowling and standing rigidly from the end of the bed. Propping up on her elbows, Bulma made a come-hither gesture.

"C'mon, big guy. I won't bite. Unless you want me—"

Vegeta's expression grew noticeably distressed. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't joke."

Oh. Wow, he was really nervous, huh. Rethinking her strategy, Bulma patted the bed and gave him a softer smile. "Okay, you got it. But you have to come here, you're making me nervous standing there."

He hesitated, but finally, reluctantly, uncrossed his arms. His limbs moved stiffly, like an old, weathered jacket needing to be shaken loose. Placing his fists on the mattress, he paused as if waiting for a trap to spring. Their eyes met, and she saw something revealed that he normally hid better: vulnerability.

Aw, honey.

Why did she always fall for these good-looking, broken types?

Bulma lets her legs fall open, sliding them apart in a tempting V, and beckoned Vegeta to approach further with a curled index finger. "Don't keep a lady waiting."

His Adam's apple bobbed noticeably before he crawled up the bed, taking the space between her legs. He braced his hands either side of her shoulders, almost as though he was about to do push-ups. Very pointedly not touching her. He couldn't have looked more uncomfortable if he tried.

It struck her, a brutal, ego-crushing blow of realization. It hadn't been vulnerability she had seen in him, but reluctance. He didn't want to do this.

Something hopeful and girlish withered away inside her.

Oh no… Oh god. Of course he didn't want to do this. There had been so many signs he wasn't interested in her, going all the way back to the very first night they had met and he turned her down, arms folded imperiously over his bouncer t-shirt.

Bulma placed her hands on his chest and tried to smile, though it felt pained to do so. His pectorals tensed under her touch.

"Hey… You know you don't have to do this, right?" she told him sadly.

His scowl intensified. She didn't give him the opportunity to reply, words rushing out of her in mounting humiliation.

"Look, I… I don't want you to feel like you have to fuck me." It stung to think he wasn't interested, obviously. What woman liked to be rejected? But Bulma understood that sexual preferences weren't something you could reason with. If he wasn't into her, then he wasn't into her. Case closed. But worse was the idea that he might be trying to fuck her out of pity. Her inflated, glass-canon ego couldn't handle that.

"When did I say that?" Vegeta asked, his voice gruff with annoyance.

He didn't have to. His body language spoke volumes. If he wanted her, he wouldn't be so damn reluctant, would he? For heaven's sake, he wouldn't even engage her unless she took great pains to dig him out of his reclusive shell like some salty, obstinate oyster that refused to be shucked.

"You can't bring yourself to touch me," she pointed out, her voice embarrassingly thick with emotion. She should have known better than to get her hopes up about this. Damn it, damn. Don't cry, please don't cry in front of him again.

"Bulma," he growled, sounding at his wits end. He lowered to his forearms, and suddenly the burning heat of his body was pressed against hers once more, engulfing her like a warm blanket. It ignited a deep need to wrap herself up in him completely.

Something hard and thick nudged her inner thigh.

Oh.

OH!

Bulma blushed with awareness. Her body awakened to his arousal like a flower unfurling to greet the sun.

"I want to," he said, his cheeks hot with admission.

"Oh… Okay then."

Bulma Briefs, you're fucked.

~xox~

Vegeta's jaw ached from the pressure he was putting it under. His whole face burned and he couldn't get it to stop. God, fucking… WHY couldn't they have done this in the goddamn dark?! And how? How did he manage to constantly humiliate himself in front of this woman?

He exhaled through his nose, trying to dispel his mortification, still beside himself that he had needed to be so vulgar to drive home the point that YES, he wanted to fuck her. Of course he did. How the hell could she not see that? Bulma wasn't usually this lacking in self-confidence, normally having it in fucking spades. Of all the goddamn times for her to doubt herself.

She watched him with blue-eyed amazement, her dazzling gaze skewering him as effectively as a spitted pig. Her fingers trailed up to his neck and tentatively stroked him, causing the little hairs on his nape to rise.

"Me too," she admitted softly. Her smile returned, and Vegeta pretended his heart rate didn't accelerate with it. "I want to as well."

Fuck me.

He swallowed thickly, his stomach churning and coiling far too tightly. Her words and adoring look weren't helping his embarrassment, neither was his throbbing erection that rested heavily against her thigh.

Fuck, do NOT focus on that. Think of something else, anything else.

In a vain attempt at distraction, Vegeta fixated on her hair. The short tresses spilled about her pretty face, varying shades of blue shimmering in the sunlight. Her bangs were, as usual, falling over her eyes, so he pushed them aside, tucking the longer strands behind the small curve of her ear. Her hair was soft like down feathers, the tips still damp from her shower.

Something sweet, like vanilla, flirted with his sense of smell. He frowned, perplexed by the source.

"What is that?" he asked.

Her brows rose up. "What's what?"

"That smell."

"Smell? Oh, kind of like cake?"

"Yes."

She smiled. "It's my new conditioner."

"You bought new conditioner?" He leaned in, pressing his nose to her temple and breathing in. She was right, her hair smelled like freshly baked goods.

"Yep."

He pulled back to look at her face, incredulous. "You bought conditioner for porn?"

Her fingers flexed anxiously on his neck. "Not… exactly. I bought it yesterday."

Vegeta frowned, confused. It made no sense. Buying beauty products was a luxury they couldn't afford. And it wasn't as if Bulma didn't have several half-used bottles of hair products filling up the goddamn shelves in the bathroom. Why was she racking up stupid charges on her credit card? Who was she trying to impress? Had Eighteen said something to her about her hair? Had Goku?

"Do you like it?" she asked, her soft voice cutting through the rambling in his mind. She was looking up at him expectantly, and his stomach started twisting on itself again. He felt like a fly caught in a web made of nice smelling conditioner and heavy looks.

"What difference does it make if I like it or not?" he grit out.

Her soft, bashful laugh brushed against his cheek. "I got it for you, dummy."

"Me?"

Him? …Why?

"Yep, since you like food so much, I thought it might make you feel, I don't know, comfortable? And, um, I got something else too," she added, her cheeks turning pink. She pulled her knees up, dragging her silken skin against his. A slow, playful smile curled her lips, sucker punching him in the belly.

"You should take off my panties and see."

Holy

Shit.

Vegeta tried swallowing and found that he couldn't. Take off her panties? N-now? Well, of fucking course they would need to come off if they were going to… practice.

In despair, he glanced down to where her thin underwear were pressed against his swollen boxer-briefs.

Goddamn it. This whole thing just got very real. It felt far more clinical and nerve-wracking than their previous experiences. There had been a sense of urgency and need the last two times which had helped kill his nerves. Now, he was left with too much time to dwell on his inadequacies, and worry if Bulma would be assessing his performance rather than enjoying it.

Okay, damnit. Stop overthinking things and just do it. A fuck's a fuck. No big deal, right?

Vegeta sat up, in part to comply but mostly to create some distance so that he could breathe. Bulma's hands fell away from his neck, drifting down to rest either side of her face on the pillow. She lay sprawled on the bed in flirtatious submission, as lovely as a painting, waiting for him to remove her panties.

Fuck.

Her thighs were still wrapped around his hips. How was he supposed to undress her like that? Idiot woman. She wasn't going to make this easy for him, was she?

He tapped her knee. "Legs."

Bulma bit her lip at the command, obediently letting her legs part. He eased them to the side before looking at her pelvis and the flimsy material he was tasked with removing.

No more excuses.

Vegeta took the corner of her blue underwear, thankful that his hands remained steady as he grazed her delicate hip bones, sliding her panties down. Bulma lifted her butt up to help.

It took only a second to discover her alluded-to secret. Where last he had seen her, she had worn soft, pretty blue hair — a tantalizing veil waiting to reveal its hidden prize. Now, she was totally entirely nude.

He could see everything: her soft plump lips, her tiny peaking clitoris, even a glistening on her naked folds.

Holy shit, she was already wet.

The sight left him gutted. Defenseless. Like a machine that had run out of power, he shut down.

"Like it?" she asked.

Like it? He wanted to press his mouth to it and never come up for air. He tore his gaze from her smooth mound up to her face. Sapphire blue eyes pierced his own and jump-started his brain back into life.

"I bought this special cream on Eighteen's recommendation," Bulma rambled on. "It's much cheaper than waxing. I thought, you know, it's a cleaner look, and… Maybe you would like it?"

Vegeta struggled to think clearly. She had done this for him?

"It was fine before," he replied, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. Natural or clean-shaven, she was always a sight of wet-dream perfection.

"…Oh." Her reply was less than enthusiastic.

And it wasn't the only thing gone tepid. The moment he finished pulling off her lingerie, Bulma pressed her thighs together and wrapped her arms about her middle, looking away, defensive.

Great. He fucked up, didn't he?

Say something, you moron.

"So… This is why you took so long to get ready?" he asked.

Bulma gave him an incredulous look. He couldn't blame her, he was mentally wincing at his own thoughtlessness too.

Say something nice, for fuck's sake!

He tried again. "It looks—" Incredibly soft. Delectable. The perfect canvas to cum on. "—good."

Oh. Eloquent. Way to use your vocabulary, asshole.

For some reason that eluded him, Bulma was far more lenient. His pathetic choice of adjectives won him a forgiving smile. She pushed up onto her elbows, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"Just good?"

Oh, she thought she was cute. "Don't push your luck," he growled, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Her toe poked his leg. "Mmm… Wanna feel?"

His words backed-up in his mouth so quickly he nearly choked on them.

She watched him struggle to speak, grinning, her perfect teeth revealed in silent laughter. "It's very smooth," she promised. "I bet it'll feel nice on your cock."

God-fucking-damn her.

"Here," she said, taking his hand and giving his arm a gentle tug, pulling him down, down, down like an anchor into unknown waters. Helplessly, he followed her until he was lying by her side, and damn, wasn't this familiar? It was the same position from when he had first made her cum on his fingers. Had she intentionally placed them this way?

She drew his hand towards her belly, and his fingers ghosted over her soft skin. She was so soft. Air felt hard to come by, his chest tightening as he watched his hand creep towards her bare little V. Feather light, she brushed his finger against the soft fold of her lips, and let out a shivering sigh.

Oh god, she really did feel smooth. She was right, it would feel fucking amazing to rub his cock against her. He throbbed with the need to try it.

But he was powerless to do anything but obey, swallowing and allowing her to direct his hand and pet her up and down, the tip of his finger brushing against her wet dew. God, this shouldn't be destroying him. This was what, the third time he had touched her here, yet it wasn't getting old. Far from it.

She pushed his finger against her wet center and gasped. He met her eyes, and suddenly all his fears paled at the sight of her flushed, needy face.

A powerful, relentless need filled him. He ached to make her feel good.

Right.

Fucking.

Now.

Moving closer to get a better angle, Vegeta gently pushed his finger inside, watching the way her eyes widened and her lips parted as he penetrated her.

"Like this?" he asked, wanting to know the best way to please her.

"Mm-hmm," she moaned, clinging to his arm. She brought up her left hand and made a 'come-here' gesture. "Try this."

He did. The reaction was instantaneous. She whimpered and arched back against the bed. Like a lion spotting the weakest in the herd, Vegeta dove in to give chase, repeating the gesture again and again until Bulma was putty in his hands. It was the greatest feeling in the world to do this to her. He was getting addicted.

"I thought we were here to fuck?" he teased, relishing the way she unravelled so quickly.

She blinked open cloudy eyes and looked at him, confused. "But… we are."

His hand stopped, and he gave her a look just as baffled. "What?"

Her confusion rapidly turned to horror. "Oh my god, Vegeta. Please tell me you don't just stick it in without preparing a lady?"

The chasm gaped open, splitting so wide they might as well have been standing on different planets.

Where the fuck was Raditz when you needed him?

"Oh my god, Vegeta."

"Tch. Just shut up and let me finger you."

How long could it take?

~xox~

Her panting breaths mingled with the wet sounds of his fingers in her cunt. She was resplendent, whimpering and fisting the sheets as he worked her loose. There was just one problem.

After twenty minutes of doing this, his hand was fucking dying.

"Oh god, that's so good, Vegeta. Please don't stop. Just a few more minutes."

"A few more minutes?!"

"Ng, please! H-have you seen how big you are?"

"Jesus Christ, Bulma, I'm going to cause fucking long-term damage in my hand."

"S-sorry I… I'm nervous and, ah—! I m-may have cum earlier."

"You what! When?"

"I-in the bathroom. I wanted to be ready."

"Then what the fuck am I crippling myself here for?!"

~xox~

The little blue condom foil lay opened on the bed next to them, a large 'XL' on the wrapping not having escaped his notice or his pride. Still, it didn't stop his stomach fluttering as she placed the latex over him, rolling it down his length.

He caught her hand in his.

"What's wrong?" she asked, surprised.

"…You need to leave more space at the end."

"Oh."

She blushed, looking genuinely embarrassed. For the first time since he entered her room, he felt like he had the upper hand. Did his little Bulma not have much experience with condoms?

"Don't worry about it," he told her. A rare gesture of consideration.

"Right," she conceded, letting him take over. "We won't be using one for the shoot anyways. The only thing we'll need to worry about is where you're going to cum on me. Or in me. Any preference?"

Well, fuck. It had been a nice moment of control while it lasted.

Ignoring her question for his own sanity, Vegeta pushed her legs aside and settled between them, looming over her tiny frame to give her his best no-nonsense face.

"Worry about cumming now."

Bulma smiled coquettishly. His throat tightened and his heart bloomed. Fuck, she was pretty. Her slender fingers dragged him down, pulling him by the neck until their bodies were flush together. She was so small and soft under him, a delicate thing he was torn between wanting to protect and to ruin. She tipped the balance to the latter when she spread her legs and rubbed against his cock.

"Okay. Make me cum, Vegeta."

Holy shit yes.

He moved his hips against hers, [CENSORED]. She let out a pleased sigh, enjoying the tease. He tried nudging in, but the angle wasn't right. He reached between them to grab his cock and tried again.

To no avail.

"Everything okay, big guy?" she asked.

"Can't…" he grunted. "Something's not right."

"Oh. More to the right… Your right… Vegeta, do you need a road map for your dick?"

"I'M TRYING!"

She pushed him away just enough to grab his cock and reposition him. Holy shit. It should have been emasculating to have her help, but all he felt was a fountain of gratitude and affection. This was definitely going on his list of okays. With a look of flushed determination, Bulma tilted her hips and lined them up.

"Try that."

He eased forward. There was a moment of exquisite resistance [CENSORED].

Holy shit, he was inside her.

~xox~

Bulma gasped, her eyes going wide.

Holy shit. He was inside her. Oh god, oh god, she felt so full, her inner walls squeezing about his girth.

Vegeta's eyes darted to her face, checking her as they connected, his hips pressed solidly against hers.

"…You okay?" he asked, his voice so deep it vibrated throughout her.

"Uh-huh," she whispered, her left hand flexing on his bicep as she struggled to adjust around him.

"Fuck, you're tight," he said, wincing.

"N-no shit. Why do you think I had you finger me for so long?"

"…Right."

His weight shifted, and he levered back down onto his forearms, close enough their noses kissed. His eyes watched her with a warm earnesty that made Bulma want to melt into the sheets. He brushed her bangs from her face, the gesture so sweet her heart ached.

"Bulma?"

"Mm?"

"You need to relax or this isn't going to work."

She gave a nervous laugh. "E-easier said than done."

"I can wait."

"Oh yeah, I bet it's real comfortable for you. You're not trying to relax with 9 inches up your hoo-ha and 200 pounds of muscle crushing you."

"I do not weigh 200 hundred pounds."

"Well it certainly feels like it."

"That's only because you're so tiny and weak."

"More like your head is."

"Which one? The one that's talking, or the one that's buried in your cunt?"

Bulma laughed despite herself, and Vegeta gave her a rare smile.

Damn him. He got her every time, surprising her with some crude comment as they huddled together on the couch, sharing instant noodles and warmth. She would choke on her broth from laughter and he would smirk in victory. She was starting to get used to him always being there for her whenever she felt her lowest.

Vegeta gave her sweaty bangs one last caress.

"That's my girl. You ready? I'm going to fuck you now."

Oh my god.

She nodded, incapable of speaking.

He moved his hips, [CENSORED]. She whimpered, the sound falling before she could stop it.

He paused, his eyes concerned.

"…Does it hurt?"

"No, no," she gasped, grabbing his lower back and tugging on his body. "Just come up a bit higher."

He repositioned like she asked, and gave another thrust, [CENSORED].

"Oooh that's better," she moaned, sinking into the bed.

"Just like that?" he confirmed [CENSORED].

"Uh-huh. Just like that."

He moved [CENSORED], slow and tender, taking it at her pace until she was entirely relaxed. [CENSORED] Bulma wanted to cry for how good it felt.

"Harder?" he asked.

"God YES."

He did as told, putting in more and more force until Bulma felt the need to grab onto the sheets above her head. [CENSORED] Her breathing grew ragged, her veins filling with liquid fire. He was magnificent to behold; Staring at him was like watching a god, Adonis in the flesh. Vegeta's muscles rippled hypnotically [CENSORED] She tried to lock her legs about his hips, but he grabbed her thigh and pressed it to the bed.

"Cameras won't see if you do that," he chastised.

She could only moan as he spread her wider. It should have been shameful that she had forgotten the purpose of their practicing, but to hell with it. Vegeta was fucking her in just the right way. Cameras and porn and practice be damned. The only thing she cared about was that he continue.

He fucked her harder and harder, building up an impressive rhythm. The bed creaked, groaning under the abuse, and she with it.

"Fuck. You're soaking wet," he growled. Was he complaining or commenting? She couldn't tell, and couldn't take the risk that he might stop because of it. She wrapped her arms around his waist to hold him close.

"Don't stop, please," she sobbed in desperation.

"Spread them wider," he demanded, pushing on her leg.

"I c-can't."

"Yes, you can."

She obeyed, feeling so thoroughly lewd and used. He took full advantage of her splayed limbs, [CENSORED] all she felt was the most incredible, tremendous swell of nearing gratification. They were breathing hard, their breaths as hot and humid as a summer storm. Droplets of his sweat ran down his skin and wet her own, marking her with his scent. And his eyes, as focused as hawk on a mouse, watched her every expression.

"Are you close?" he asked.

She nodded miserably, staring at him through wet lashes. "Uh-huh."

He forced her legs wider still, pressing her knees up by her sides. [CENSORED]

"Vegeta!" she cried, his name spiraling in her head like a prayer.

"Hn?"

"V-Vegeta, I…" she gasped again, mindless with sensation, her fingernails dragging down his sides.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting in her ear. "Yes, Bulma?"

Oh no, it was too perfect, too much.

Her fingernails dug in, latching into his flesh as she arched back and came.

She wailed at the ceiling, [CENSORED] as she came apart in a wet, defenseless mess.

He bundled her up, holding her tight but carefully. [CENSORED] His weight sagged against her, pressing her firmly to the bed.

They were spent, panting, and thoroughly exhausted.

"Oh my god," she whispered, her whole body tingling, throbbing, and floating on a warm cloud of rainbow dust.

Vegeta said nothing, still gasping hotly against her neck.

That… that was…

It had been amazing. Perfect. Incredible sex—

No, incredible practice.

Oh, right.

It was just practice.

…Damn.

~xox~

His sides burned from where she had scratched him, his lungs aching for air. However, the pain paled next to the terror that was dawning on him.

"Vegeta. You're crushing me," Bulma gasped, gently pushing at his waist.

He grunted and attempted to ease the worst of his weight from her tiny frame, but he couldn't get up, not yet. Not when his world was crumbling around him. Great cinder blocks of his life were crashing down, all to the tune of a woman's soft, breathless pants.

To say the sex had been intense would be the understatement of his life. It was nothing like the few, quick passionless fucks he had experienced in his past from girls that hung around Frieza's crew, eager to spread their legs to curry favor within the gang, or to rebel against disinterested boyfriends and strict fathers. The women had used him as much as he used them, and emotions had never been a factor in those exchanges.

Which is why he was so ill equipped to deal with… whatever the fuck he was dealing with now. His heart was rabbiting, and not just from the work-out the sex provided. He couldn't bring himself to look at Bulma, because he didn't trust himself to do so without somehow fucking this whole thing up.

How was he going to look her in the eyes after this, or go back to being just her roommate?

"Wow. I think they should be happy with that performance, don't you?" she asked, gently stroking his damp shoulder-blades with her fingertips.

He winced at her compliment. It sounded so much like a consolation prize, medicine he would rather choke on than swallow, a harsh reminder of the reason he was here between her thighs. Not for her, but for a paycheck.

"We should practice that again. You could take me from behind this time?"

He had to get up and leave before he really did suffocate.

Pushing on arms that felt like jello, Vegeta sat up, avoiding looking at her. His softening cock slipped out, and he cupped his groin, getting off the bed.

"Where—" she started to ask.

"Gonna clean up," he announced, wanting to make a beeline for the door.

She stopped him, grabbing his arm before he could leave. His throat closed up as she pulled him into a hug, her body so soft and perfect against his.

"Don't take too long," she told him.

His heart burst, and he awkwardly hugged her back with one arm, his other still cupping his groin.

"I really enjoyed that," she added, giving him a final squeeze. "This shoot is going to be so easy with you."

He made a sound that he hoped passed as a reply, and she let him go.

He headed to the bathroom, locking the door once inside. His ashen reflection stared back at him with judgmental eyes. He turned away from it and went to the toilet to clean up.

One more time. He was going to have to fuck her at least one more time. In front of people. On camera. This practice was supposed to assuage their fears before the big day. It had only awoken a whole Pandora's box of unknowns within him.

There was no way he was going to get through this if he didn't get a grip on himself. He respected Bulma too much to want to fuck up their friendship. Or maybe he was too cowardly to want to risk that friendship for something else.

Vegeta grimaced and peeled off his condom. He bundled it up, along with his feelings, and threw away both unwanted messes.

~xoXox~

AN: beta-read by Artephile/Marcella-Duchamp, our resident Vegebul fanfic librarian and aficionado ~_^

DBZ owned by Akira Toriyama (although he would be sore pressed to recognize his work in this AU, lol). This AU is the sinful idea of Stupidoomdoodles and myself, LadyVegeets. Stupidoomdoodles (cartoonist, illustrator extraordinaire, and ideas woman) and LadyVegeets (writer, and ideas woman) can be found on twitter, tumblr and p atreon.

Please check out Stupidoomdoodles' NSFW art for this fic too. We would love to hear your feedback. All sinners welcome ^_^