Notes: This idea has been spinning around in my brain for weeks now, especially after reading Futile by amarielah (AO3/works/9771248), which flips some of the fanon tropes of the 3 year fic on its head. Mixed with a second-hand story of how a male friend reacted to his wife's pregnancies, you get an introspective fic about possessiveness and desire.

Title from "Dear Theodosia" (and "It's Quiet Uptown") from Hamilton.

Bulma smelled like him.

Vegeta inhaled deeply, drawing her scent into his lungs. She always smelled a little like him, her strawberry and ozone mixing with his musk from sharing a home and a bed, but now, her body heavy with his child, it went deeper. His scent oozed from her pores, marking her as his more strongly than the gold ring on her finger ever could.

She looked up at him and smiled, setting aside the report she'd been reading. "How was training?"

He shrugged, stripping off his sweat-soaked shirt and tossing it unerringly in the direction of the clothes hamper. "Fine. Your son and Kakarot's brat are improving."

Bulma rolled her eyes at him. Years ago, he would have crushed anyone who showed such insolence, but he couldn't regret going soft when his mate's body was ripe with evidence of his virility. She didn't say anything as he crawled into their bed and wrapped his arms around her pregnant belly, burying his face in her side. Her fingers threaded through his hair and he heard her pick up her reading material again, balancing it against her swollen abdomen.

Vegeta had been gone for the majority of Bulma's first pregnancy, and he was unprepared for how much seeing her like this would affect him. He couldn't get enough of her warmth, her skin, her scent. Each morning he had to force himself to leave her in their bed to go train, as his only desire was to cover her body with his and fuck her until she couldn't walk. He couldn't remember a time when he thought so often about sex, not even during the first hormone-drenched months of puberty and the subsequent discovery that his dick was good for more than urination. There was something about her pregnant body that had him on edge constantly, torn between a worshipful sort of awe and a savage, possessive need to prove to them both to whom she belonged.

Curled into his mate's side, he wondered if this obsession was the true reason his race had chosen to place their fetuses in pods. Before, he had assumed it was to free females to return to the battlefield rather than serve as glorified incubators for months on end. Now, he thought it likely that the emotions of the fathers-to-be had played a greater role in the Saiyan's use of incubation pods; Vegeta couldn't imagine going off-planet right now for even a few days, let alone a months- or years-long mission. Even being away from Bulma for a few hours had him riding the edge of a violent rage that only her presence could quell. Kami forbid another male approach her; he'd nearly punched Krillin through a wall for hugging her. Only the quick intervention of the blonde toaster had saved him from Vegeta's jealous wrath.

Beside him, Bulma shifted, and his arms tightened around her instinctively. He felt more than heard her chuckle as he forced himself to let her go, flopping onto his back with a wordless grunt. She leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead before laying her reading material on the bedside table and scooting down to lie next to him. As she settled herself against him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders without a conscious thought from him, pulling her as close as her stomach would allow. She hummed contentedly, tracing abstract patterns on his bare chest with her finger. "I love you," she whispered, and Vegeta let a small smile flicker over his face.

Find more of my fic on AO3 (username: meinterrupted) and shinykari tumblr.