-Epilogue: Fantasy-

(Due to FFNets rules, this chapter has been CENSORED. To read the uncensored version, please find LadyVegeets at Archive of Our Own.)

Space.

It was vast, incomprehensibly so. Empty. Vegeta never understood how people looked at space and saw the stars, when all he saw was the immeasurable blackness between them. Which of those black spaces was he responsible for creating? Which black space was where Vegeta-sei used to be?

Space was desolate: an infinite bleak ocean, intermittently dotted with giant orbiting marbles. Sometimes they harbored organisms who scurried around in vain attempts to exist, to matter. They never did, not when he came along and ended their suffering with an indiscriminate ki blast.

How he wished someone would do him the same courtesy.

Vegeta sat in his pod, hunched miserably, trying to fight off a migraine and a creeping cold that had been with him since leaving the Aurora Bolide. He struggled to not think of her, but inevitably he always did. Bulma would have been set free long ago, given his credits, enough for her to live by comfortably for a few months while buying her way home. If she didn't fall into trouble along the way. The idea of her getting caught or killed made Vegeta's stomach twist violently, but he steeled himself against those thoughts.

She wasn't his problem anymore.

But she had been, for a while. And wasn't that ironic, because where his ownership of her had been brief, her clutch on him was forever.

In the endless restless days of his pod flight, Vegeta was haunted by her. Blue gas giants had him thinking of her hair and eyes. The hum of the pod's automation system turned into the sounds of her soft moans and sighs. A spiral galaxy, glistening milky white in the distance, made him think of his cum splayed across her silken breasts and belly.

Images turned into memories, memories into daydreams. He re-played them over and over, merciless, torturing himself with each cruel thing he had done to her, and every kind thing that he hadn't. His head pounded.

"Vegeta—"

He bolted upright, looking around for the source of the voice. He wrenched off his scouter to check it, but there were no incoming calls or signals displayed.

He must have imagined it. Perhaps he had drifted off? He was sleep deprived. How long had it been since he last slept properly? Two weeks? Three? Warily, Vegeta sank back into his chair, slipping his scouter once more over his eye.

"Vegeta."

He stiffened. Slowly, warily, he tapped the scouter, but it still read as inactive. Either the damn thing was broken, or… he was losing his goddamn mind.

"…Who is this?" he asked.

"Wow, you've forgotten my voice already?"

It felt like getting punched in the gut. He would never forget Bulma's voice. Too many times he had listened to it as she crooned and whimpered in his ear, cumming gorgeously on his cock while begging him for more.

But there was no way she could be talking to him now, which meant he was hallucinating the whole damn thing.

How did one have a conversation with a figment of their imagination?

Vegeta swallowed thickly. "How did you… How are you talking to me?"

"I'm a scientist, remember?"

The corner of his mouth curled up despite himself. Figment or not, fuck it was good to hear her. He settled more comfortably into his chair, watching a solar system drift by his window.

"I remember," he said softly. "…Where are you?"

"I'm here to talk about you, actually."

"Hn."

"How are you, Vegeta? Getting enough sleep?"

The tip of his tail swished with agitation. "Since you're just my subconscious speaking, you would know the answer to that."

"So… not well then."

"No."

"Why not?" she inquired.

"How the fuck would I know?"

"Bad dreams?"

He hesitated to reply.

"Good dreams?" she asked, a smirk in her voice.

"Tch." A blush crept over his face, and he huddled more sullenly into his chair.

"Not dreams then," she mused. "How about a guilty conscious?"

He sneered, his tail bristling. "What do I have to feel guilty about?"

"So you do feel guilty?"

"No!"

"You don't feel guilty about leaving me behind?"

"What? No!"

"Really?"

"No! What did you expect me to do, Bulma? I had no choice!"

"No, Vegeta. I had no choice. You always had a choice. And you chose to leave."

"WOMAN, I am not discussing this with you."

"Right. Heaven forbid you talk about anything."

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD."

"If you say so."

The pod lapsed into silence. Vegeta calmed down, his fingers clenching anxiously on his arms, his tail curling tightly around his middle.

The silence stretched out, as infinite as the universe.

"…Bulma?" he asked tentatively.

There was no reply.

Something small and vulnerable broke inside him. Disgusted, he threw his scouter off where it bounced sharply across the pod interior. Putting a hand over his face, Vegeta blocked out the endless space-scape before him and with it, he hoped, his inner-demons.

~xox~

The scalding shower washed away the last few weeks of sweat, dirt and blood, yet the cold in his soul remained. Minutes dragged by. Vegeta stayed under the hot spray longer than was necessary, trying to get his sleep-deprived thoughts in order. He was barely keeping it together. Days melded into weeks, and he was growing increasingly unsociable even by his standards. He flung himself into battles with a carelessness that bordered on suicidal. Even Nappa and Raditz had clued in that he was unravelling at the seams, giving him suspicious looks, exchanging glances when they thought he wasn't paying attention. He was; he had just ceased caring. Perhaps it was time to suck up his pride and find the nearest space station to acquire some sleeping pills before things got worse.

Vegeta leaned his head against the wet shower tiles, closing his eyes for only a moment.

CENSORED The hot, wet confines of her mouth dragged out a needy groan from him. He was as eager as a puppy for her affection. Crystal blue eyes watched him with amusement as he swelled to full girth in her mouth. He slipped down the back of her throat and shuddered in relief.

Vegeta jerked awake, blinking open gritty eyes. Swearing under his breath, he turned the shower to cold, freezing away his exhaustion and arousal with brutal indifference. When his limbs were shivering, he turned the water off and grabbed the nearest towel. It was a threadbare thing, but he couldn't expect much when he was making Nappa pay for the hotel.

Vegeta rubbed himself dry, vainly attempting to scrub away his madness before wrapping the damp towel around his waist and heading into his room.

There was a knock at the door.

"What?" he snapped irritably.

No reply.

The rapping sound came again.

"What?!" Marching over, Vegeta wrenched open the door to chew out whichever dumb fuck had dared disturb him.

And took a stunned step back.

Bulma.

She was standing in his doorway, as beautiful as a doll in a glass display. No, more so. Her make-up wasn't as heavy as usual, and the clothes she wore were simpler: a navy summer dress with a delicate burgundy scarf about her throat. Blue and red. His ancestral colors. She was… gorgeous, and glowing with a joy that Vegeta had only seen glimpses of before. Freedom became her. Bulma gave him a smile that tore right through him, more devastating than any physical attack he had endured yet.

He was rooted to the spot, unable to move, his heart about to give out.

"Did you miss me?"

Disbelief, elation, skepticism, Vegeta was overwhelmed and light-headed from the influx of emotions her presence wrought inside him. He glanced left and right, searching the hallway for any sign of how she had got there — if anyone had seen her, if this was even really happening — before he looked back at her at a complete loss, his head swimming with questions.

"How…?" he asked.

Her grin grew wicked, her eyes taking in his half-naked state with a look of approval. "You Saiyans leave a pretty noticeable path of destruction in your wake. It wasn't hard to track you."

"Me?"

"Of course you. Why else would I be here if not for you?"

He had no idea. Had she really come here for him? After all her whining about wanting to go home, she had instead sought him out. Why? He had set her free. She could have gone anywhere, done anything, yet here she was, standing on his doorstep looking better than his wildest fantasies. Why, why would she risk getting captured again for him? But he couldn't bring himself to ask. So he asked the next best thing. "How did you get here?"

Her smile softened. "I'm a genius scientist, remember?"

He winced. Her words stung, too similar to his hallucination in the pod.

No…

Fuck.

Was this real?

Was she actually here, or was he imagining this like the conversation in space? Had he finally snapped?

Vegeta ran his eyes over her, head to toe, trying to validate her presence. Her pretty dress hung short about her thighs; a lump formed in his throat when he spotted the mark he had put upon her. Did she realize how brazen it was to be walking around, brandishing his mark for others to see? She was announcing to everyone that she was claimed.

He swallowed against a mouth gone dry.

"Vegeta, are you okay?"

Of course he wasn't okay. He thought he had lost her forever, but here she impossibly stood, saying his name as if it didn't pain him to hear it, as if it didn't bring back memories of more pleasant times when she had moaned his name in passion. But that had been before he had acted in her benefit and to his detriment. He couldn't sleep without her; couldn't function or find meaning in anything he did. When he had given her back her life, he'd done so knowing he doomed his own.

Bulma's eyes ran over his face, her delicate brow creasing in worry. Her scrutiny made him uncomfortable. "You don't look well," she said, and reached out to touch his face.

Adrenalin sparked, his heart rate skyrocketing. She's not real. His body screamed for him to pull away, convinced he wouldn't feel her fingers, that they would wash through him in ghostly apparition. But with a stubbornness that had moulded him into the warrior he was, Vegeta didn't flinch away.

She cupped his face. Her hands were soft and shockingly cool. Her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, gentle. Holy shit, she was actually here, with him, touching him… Vegeta clenched his jaw, closing his eyes, struggling not to come undone.

"Kami, you're burning up. Vegeta, what happened?"

It was too much. Her voice, her touch, her concern, it shattered him. Slowly, painfully, Vegeta lifted his hand to ghost his fingers over hers. When he touched her, electricity burned his fingertips.

He opened his eyes and was confronted with her crystal blue concern. How many nights had these eyes haunted him? But now, incredibly, she was no longer just a figment of his imagination.

"You're really here," he said, his voice nearly breaking.

Her eyes widened. "Of course. Why woudn't— Oh!"

Vegeta grabbed her, crushing her as close to him as he could. She was so petite and soft, fitting against him as if shaped just for this purpose. He pressed his nose into her hair. At the brothel she had smelled strongly of lotions, soaps, and perfumes, but now her fragrance was more delicate. Pure. More her. His tail unbound from his waist and wrapped tightly around her middle, squeezing until she quivered against him.

"I guess you did miss me," she said, hugging him back. His throat closed up, unable to reply. Her lips brushed sweetly against his ear. "I missed you too, my prince."

Any lingering reticence that remained inside Vegeta's heart was blown away by her words.

He lifted her into his arms. She weighed nothing and was as light as a dream. She was only too happy to be carried, wrapping her legs around his hips, fitting against him as a lock to a key. Her breasts pillowed warmly against his bare chest. She kissed him. He carried her inside his room, slamming the door shut behind him as he fiercely kissed her back.

Vegeta took her to bed and lay her down, reverent, cradling her head with his hand until it touched the pillow. His mouth never left hers. Her thighs fell apart, welcoming him against her. He nestled against her hips, slowly grinding the full length of his body into her with each kiss.

With a gasp he broke from her mouth, intent on stripping her of her clothing, but was caught off guard by the sight that greeted him.

Bulma was resplendent, an otherworldly angel splayed out beneath him. Her hair and dress fanned about her, blues stark against the ivory sheets. Face flushed, eyes glittering in the hushed light, Bulma was a work of art, as much as Vegeta had the capacity to appreciate such things. Peaking out from the short hem of her dress, he caught a glimpse of her panties - the same blue and red pair she had sent him.

Vegeta pushed her dress up further to see. "Aren't these mine?" he asked, running his fingers along her panties' hem, watching as the skin of her belly prickled with goose-bumps.

Bulma lowered her eyes coquettishly, her hands sliding up to grip his powerful arms. "They are. And everything in them too."

The animal inside him reared up and growled, rattling its cage to be free and claim what was his. But he fought it, wanting to savor the gift of her return. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to the soft warm swell of her belly. Her skin was so achingly soft and perfect, unmarred save for the bite on her thigh. He should have felt contrite that he had ruined her, like he ruined everything, but selfishly he didn't. If anything, he longed to ruin her more.

His fingers hooked in her panties by her hips. Her breath hitched, and he couldn't help smirk. Slowly, oh so slowly, he pulled the garment down, letting the fabric drag along her legs, like honey oozing from its comb. As he stripped her down, his furry tail slipped from her waist to wrap around her creamy thigh.

Bulma let out a shaky sigh, her thighs quivering. She took her dress and shimmied out of it, tossing it to the floor. She was as perfect as he remembered: pale skin, soft curves, and pert pink nipples. Only the red scarf remained, a self-chosen collar, dark as blood against her throat.

The air grew heavy with the addicting smell of her arousal. It hung between them, beckoning him, tempting him with sweet demise. Vegeta knew if he gave in to it, he would be lost forever. He crept towards the source of her delicate scent; courting death had always been his specialty.

Settling between her legs, he placed rough hands on her inner thighs and encouraged her to spread her legs. She did, baring her delicate flower to him. A growl of longing rumbled in his chest, his tail tightening on her thigh. How was it that the sight of her cunt alone made everything else in his miserable life feel okay? Bulma whimpered, trembling under his intensity. Her submissive behavior called to the beast inside him, her prey to his predator. Domination was his. Vegeta glanced up the length of her torso and locked eyes with her.

She sucked in a shallow breath. "Vegeta—"

He didn't let her finish, tasting her CENSORED with his tongue while his eyes still burned into hers.

Bulma gasped, collapsing weakly against her pillow like a pillar of wet clay. She struggled to keep her hips still. Her hands pawed at the sheets. She tasted sweet and intoxicating, a richness of flavor that was quickly making him drunk. He wanted more of it, craved it. Demanded it as his right.

Spreading her petaled lips open with his fingers, Vegeta delved his tongue deep inside.

Bulma broke easily, like a paper doll torn in two. It didn't take long for her to sob his name as she writhed in the bed. Her fingers pushed into his hair, tugging urgently for him to crush his mouth against her fluttering core. She was heavenly, soft and wet and warm. She was everything that had been painfully absent in his life: pleasure, passion, optimism, affection. She was all these things and more. How had he survived for so long without them, without her? He was dying, parched, but now that he had her squirming in his hands, he refused to let go, quenching his thirst on her. He mouthed every delectable inch of her femininity, his eyes hungrily drinking up her reactions.

"Kami, Vegeta!" she wailed, her head arching back, crying out. Her hands held his head down with surprising strength, grinding her tiny wet pussy on his mouth. She was a fiend, wild and breathtaking in her desperation. He helped slip her legs over his broad shoulders, relishing the touch of her heels on his back. His tail sought to anchor her about her waist. Bending her double, bowing over her tiny frame, Vegeta sucked wet and fervently CENSORED.

"VE-GE-TA—!"

Her voice echoed, bouncing off the walls and inside his head as she came. Her thighs clamped about his ears. She throbbed and burst all over his tongue like an overripe fruit.

When at last she fell bonelessly against the bed, as weak as a newborn foal, Vegeta pulled back with a wet, sticky gasp for air. He licked his mouth clean, like a large cat lapping up the remains of a kill. With equal predatory hunger, he stalked up the length of her body, intent on claiming the rest of his prize. She lay defenseless, gasping and trembling from her climax. He removed the towel from his waist, CENSORED. Bracing his arms by her face, he pushed himself inside CENSORED.

Bulma let out a tiny helpless sound. Blue eyelashes fluttered open and she looked up at him, her face flushed with orgasm. "Vegeta," she mewled, staring at him with such fondness that it made him uncomfortable. Awed. He found the strength not to look away CENSORED She moaned and spread her legs wider CENSORED.

The bed creaked with his rhythm. Feeling indulgent, he kissed her, tasting her mouth. She returned his affection, as lazy as a kitten with a belly full of milk, content to let him do as he wished with her. There was a lot about Bulma he didn't understand, but at least during sex she was an open book: every one of her pages read 'more.'

He kept the pace slow and relished each roll of his hips, CENSORED. Her hands glided over his shoulders. Her fingers caressed his skin and his scars, loving all of him equally.

"You're being so gentle today," she murmured against his mouth, implying they hadn't been estranged for weeks. As if they had fucked just the other night. It felt good to hear her talk that way. "Are you sure you're not sick?" she teased.

Not rising to take her bait, Vegeta kept his pace languid. "Saiyans rarely fall ill," he replied. CENSORED

"O-of course, how silly of me. You're the perfect warrior," she crooned.

He didn't respond, instead kissing her, moving his mouth down her tiny cheek, under her chin, towards her neck. Her scarf made him pause. He tugged on the fabric, wanting access to her pretty throat, but Bulma tensed, stopping him.

He went still, looking at her in surprise. It was rare for her to deny his touch.

She flushed hotly, lowering her eyes in uncharacteristic shyness. "…It's ugly."

His brow furrowed. "What is?"

With eyes downcast, Bulma replied, "The scar. From the chip."

Something fierce and protective clawed inside him. His tail curled tighter around her waist, as if through sheer determination he could take away her pain. Slave chips were, by necessity, designed to be hard to remove. He pulled out of her CENSORED

"Turn over," he commanded.

Her eyes flashed with uncertainty, her fingers tightening on her scarf.

He tried again, softer this time. "Turn over, Bulma," he repeated, hoping that she would see the sincerity in his eyes. "I'll handle it."

Her eyes searched his, pretty blue pools swimming with a thousand thoughts he couldn't fathom. Finally, she relaxed her grip on her scarf and started to twist around onto her belly. He loosened his tail to allow her movement, but didn't let her go entirely, greedy to keep her close and trapped under him.

Once she was settled, he brushed her hair to the side and unknotted her scarf. It fell away like water rippling over a ledge, revealing porcelain skin and a nasty mangled scar on her nape. Vegeta's mouth thinned. Whoever removed her chip had not been gentle. Vegeta made a mental note to ask for the extractor's name later. It would have been a fine scar for a warrior to bear, but Bulma was no warrior, at least not in the traditional sense. The scar would only serve to remind her of her enslavement. She deserved better. She was no slave, she never had been, not even in the brothel.

"Don't move," he warned her.

Her hands shifted to grip the pillow. "I won't… I trust you."

He ignored the way his gut clenched at her admission. He took her in his hands and bowed over her neck. His tail cinched at her waist. Baring his canines, Vegeta bit her, sinking his teeth firmly into her flesh.

She whimpered, her hands fisting the pillow. Hot metallic blood filled his mouth, and he closed his eyes, swallowing it down languidly. His eyes fluttered open when something touched him. His gaze slipped to the side, seeing her hand on his, her trembling fingers entwining with his own. Ivory on tan. Human on Saiyan. Skin on skin. He looked away, squeezing her fingers in return.

With a final clench of his jaw, Vegeta released her neck. His massive bite mark masked the damage her slave chip had left. She would still be scarred, but not as property: as a mate.

Blood continued to swell at her wound, and with it, his regret. He had caused her more pain. "…Does it hurt?" he asked haltingly.

"A little," she confided, her voice tight.

Brave. He would give her that.

Vegeta moved off of her to lay on his side, pulling Bulma flush to his chest, his mouth on her neck. He squeezed her about the middle in an attempt to be comforting. Blood dribbled down her neck, so he licked it up.

"Oh," she stuttered, her fingers tightening on his forearms.

He paused, unsure of her reaction.

Her fingers flexed, kneading his arms. "…Again," Bulma whispered, her voice breathy and exhilarated. "Keep doing that, please?"

A dark possessiveness unfurled in his chest, his lips quirking up. He closed his eyes and willingly laved her wound, feeling her shiver and moan delightfully in his arms. She arched against him, her bottom wriggling against his half-hard cock. His pulse quickened. His tail, snaked lazily about her middle, undulated happily against her skin.

"C-can I touch it?" she asked, her voice still breathless.

"Mm," he agreed. He barely gave her request any consideration, too caught up in grooming her.

But he froze as soon as her fingers brushed over the coarse fur of his tail. Sparks of pleasure fired throughout his nervous system, dancing up his spine CENSORED. His hold tightened on her reflexively. The groan that escaped his lips was unintentional.

"Does that feel good?" She teased. Her hand caressed his tail again, firm but gentle, pulling softly. It pulled him apart into a thousand pieces. Vegeta melted against her, his entire body shuddering in gratification.

She was relentless, stroking his fur more sweetly than she had ever stroked his cock. He buried his face in her neck, stifling a whimper. His tail twisted restlessly in her hands. "Bulma," he groaned, his voice embarrassingly needy. CENSORED

She reached down, finding his cock, and guided it to her soft slick entrance. CENSORED he pushed in. Home.

~xox~

"Vegeta. I need your help."

They lay in an exhausted heap in the hotel bed, sweaty and satiated. Vegeta still spooned her. CENSORED Bulma's hand still petted his tail, the touch more soothing now than erotic.

"Okay," he agreed.

"There's this planet and—"

"I said okay."

"But," Bulma hesitated, her hands going still. "You don't even know what I'm asking you to do."

"Doesn't matter."

"Really? You might get in trouble."

He huffed and pushed himself up, looming over her. "Look at my eyes, Bulma. I said okay."

Bulma searched his gaze and, as she so liked to point out, was able to read the truth of his words there. He meant what he said. After losing her once, he didn't relish repeating the same emotional trauma twice. What did he care about why she needed him, so long as she did. To hell with the consequences. In fact, if it meant getting in trouble to help her, all the better. He was going to die someday, what better way than by living on his own terms and helping her out in the process? And if it involved defying Frieza, so be it.

Her surprise melted into an adoring smile. She put her hands on his cheeks, and he frowned to try and fight the wild rabbiting of his heart at such a tender gesture.

"You're a good man, Vegeta."

"Tch."

"You are. You might not believe it, but I do. And I'm a genius, so I would know."

"Enough, I'm tired," he groused, pulling away to hide his face before his blush could worsen. He bundled her into the comfort of his arms, telling himself that the embrace was for her benefit more than his. Her words caused his chest to ache. He pressed his mouth to the back of her neck, over the swollen wound of her bite mark.

Mine.

She made a soft hum of contentment, melting comfortably into his hold. "Sweet dreams, Vegeta."

He couldn't return the sentiment, unable to. Overwhelmed. He watched her as she started to succumb to sleep. He desperately wished to follow her. He was exhausted and fighting to keep his eye-lids open. But he was afraid that if he closed his eyes and slept, she wouldn't be there when he woke — disappearing from his life like smoke dissipating in the wind.

"…Bulma?"

"Mm?"

Don't leave… "How long must I suffer sharing my bed with you?"

"Long enough that you'll wish you had left me locked up at the brothel."

The relief that washed through him was eclipsing. Tightening his hold on her, he finally allowed his eyes to close, convincing himself that she couldn't leave without him noticing. As he finally drifted into much needed slumber, visions of blue danced in his head, wrapping around him, dragging him deeper and deeper into sleep. There was still a lot he didn't know: how she got here, how she knew it was him that had bought her freedom, or what she really wanted from him. But he didn't care.

If this was all a fantasy, some feverish hallucination concocted to ease his lonely subconscious, he never wanted to wake.

—Fin.

~xoXox~

AN: beta-read by the incredibly talentedArtephile / Marcella-Duchamp. Speaking of which, she also wrote an interesting essay about my final chapter of Blue Doll, of which I confirm nor deny nothing:

https : SLASH SLASH ladyvegeets DOT tumblr DOT com SLASH post SLASH 164452010567 SLASH if-you-think-the-ending-of-blue-doll-was-real

Thanks for everyone's lovely comments and support! Man, this was… a huge challenge to complete, haha. Between overtime at work, barely sleeping to write this in time for smutfest, getting sick and then dealing with writers block because of that, I think this took a few years off my life, lol. Sorry to have made you wait as long as I did for this epilogue, it wasn't intentional, believe me.

If you like my stories, feel free to check me out on FFnet, AO3, tumblr, twitter, or support me over on p atreon.

Fanart: stupidoomdoodles (on /twitter) and redviolett (on tumblr/twitter/deviantart) have both done some amazing fanart for this story. Be sure to check it out and tell them how talented they are! My beta has also hinted at some fanart coming our way too, so keep your eyes peeled ;)

This series was written for the Spring 2017 Vegebul Smutfest hosted by The Prince and the Heiress Google community.