Work Text
“I hate this device,” was how Vegeta greeted her over the phone—clipped and cranky, big fucking surprise— “and you are late.”“Late for what?” Bulma said, monotone, without giving her eyes a break from the lines of text she was skimming.“For wh—don’t play dumb! For bed, obviously.”Bulma sighed heavily.She had been scrolling, for Kami knew how long, through a thread of bone-dry emails between Capsule Corp legal and PR (regarding the specific language within a trademark or something or another) that would not stop pinging. She would have gladly fucked off ages ago, if not for the fact that she had already spent months perfecting this stupid tech, alongside arguing with CC board members about the timeline of the launch and generally working her perfect ass off protecting her sterling industry reputation.Bulma Briefs was the goddamn best at what she did, and part of what she did was refuse to send shitty tech to market.In any case, sleep was a full-on luxury these days, and it was one that would have to wait just a little while longer. Bulma wasn’t about to let two different departments of assholes fuck things up now.She really didn’t need Vegeta pestering her at the moment. With how totally burnt out she felt, Bulma bristled at the reminder of how much she’d rather be laid up in bed with him—with those strong, warm arms of his wrapped around her tired body, that noble nose tucked into the crook of her neck, the two of them curled up leagues away from all notions of emails and legal. It only grated on her already-fried nerves when she blinked out of Vegeta’s imagined embrace and found herself exactly where she was, still sitting hunched over her computer, in her dark office, in her empty lab.“I’m still working and you know it, asshole,” Bulma grumbled as she kept scrolling, chin in her palm.“You said you would be done an hour ago,” Vegeta said with that distinct petulance of his, that sneering, entitled, audibly punchable tone.Prince of All Saiyans; more like Prince of All Pouting. Prince of All Adult Brats. Prince of Being Equally As Combative in Every Aspect of His Life, No Matter the Stakes, To Everyone’s Displeasure (Except, Unfortunately, Bulma’s).She could go on.Honestly, though, she had to admit that it wasn’t too long ago that Vegeta would have been making this annoying demand right in her face. A recent positive development—a small miracle, really—was that he’d finally taken to calling Bulma on the phone instead of busting in on her whenever the hell he felt like it, like some mad brute with zero regard for things like startled human bystanders or appropriate levels of dress. There were only so many times an aggressive, half naked man—with more muscle and less charm than most Capsule Corp employees had met before—could storm into Bulma’s personal lab, chewing out anyone who got in his way (including Bulma), before people started to talk.If there was one thing Bulma didn’t need, it was people talking. She didn’t need it when there were a hundred Namekians wandering around in the yard, nor when it became clear that Yamcha was no longer living on CC premises; she needed it least of all after her casual hookups with Vegeta turned into a daily affair.And they’d reached that point months ago.Despite his recent progress, something that Vegeta made needlessly clear every time he used the phone Bulma gave him was just how much he detested it. That rude, petty little shit had started saying it in lieu of hello (“I hate this device, blah blah blah…”), even though Bulma—living saint that she was—had gone so far out of her way as to craft him a wireless headset modeled after his dorky old scouter. It wasn’t a very complex job, really, but she made sure that it looked stupid, just the way he liked it.(Bulma couldn’t actually say why she’d gone and done the extra work. It wasn’t like he’d asked her to—he hadn’t even wanted the phone—and Vegeta, naturally, hadn’t said anything close to a “thank you” when presented with his gifts, at least not out loud. That was far from shocking.But there had been something in his gaze, his curt nod, a flash of something surprised and soft and deeply vulnerable. He was very clearly embarrassed by his own reaction, because he snatched the headset from her hands and practically flew out of the lab.Late that night, Vegeta came to Bulma’s room, pressed her thighs apart, and wordlessly got on his knees. He spent hours thanking her, slowly and carefully, over and over again, until she couldn’t form a single word that wasn’t his name.)“I said I would try to be done an hour ago,” Bulma said now, pinching the bridge of her nose, more than a little bit testy. For some fucking reason. “If I don’t get through enough of this bullshit tonight, I’ll have to deal with it tomorrow, and I do not have the time to spare tomorrow—because of, y’know, the full electrical overhaul I need to do on the Gravity Room? The stupid fucking pain-in-the-ass project that somebody made necessary when they fried the whole system?”“Tch,” was his guiltless reply.
Asshole.
The line went quiet for a moment. Bulma’s back twinged, and as she corrected her slumped posture she imagined Vegeta’s strong hands working out all of the knots and stresses of her body until she was a puddle of melted wax. Just the idea of it sent a rush of pure longing through her, as sudden as it was vibrant and lovely.Too vibrant and lovely.Domestic, even.Dangerous, Bulma thought. Bad idea.She shook her head, rubbed a tired eye, and glanced at the time—yikes, nearly midnight. No wonder Vegeta was so cranky; it was way past His Highness’ bedtime.“Look,” Bulma said, more softly than before, “I’m trying to get out of here as soon as I can, promise. Just give me like, fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty—”“Twenty minutes?” Vegeta balked. “You do understand the grand respect I’m paying you by not hauling you out of there myself, don’t you?”“Ooh, don’t start threatening me with a good time, buster,” Bulma said with a laugh. Her face stretched into an easy grin as she idly returned to scrolling through the endless work thread. “I’ll make you put your money where your mouth is.”“If you aren’t here in the next sixty seconds, I’ll—”“You’ll what?” Bulma taunted, grinning madly. “What are you gonna do, Prince Vegeta, throw me over your shoulder and smack my ass red when I piss you off?”She heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a shaky exhale. That familiar sound automatically sent a tantalizing pulse straight between her legs, the response utterly beyond her control, because Bulma knew very well at this point what kind of noises Vegeta made when her teasing hit the mark.She knew even better the noises he made when she was getting him hard as a rock.
Fuck.
She got the feeling that she was absolutely not going to finish this work tonight.“I…guess I shouldn’t threaten you with a good time, either,” Bulma said after a beat, her voice low and unintentionally husky.She cleared her throat; told herself to get it together; pretended she hadn’t automatically started rubbing her thighs together for a scrap of friction.“D-don’t be ridiculous,” Vegeta huffed. Blustery, as if she couldn’t hear the catch in his voice, the stutter, the barely-hidden desire.“Yeah, okay, but, uh—just to be clear,” Bulma said as she blindly grabbed a pair of wireless earbuds from her cluttered desk, “you don’t want to smack my ass red every time I piss you off?”“You’re pissing me off right now.”“That feeling is very mutual,” she said sweetly, now conveniently hands-free. Just in case. “So…what else do you want to do to me?”“Just come here already,” Vegeta growled, the heat behind his voice wild and obvious, the timbre of it thrilling to Bulma. The unspoken and I’ll show you, which was one of the more suggestive things she’d heard him say outside of active coitus, hung almost obscenely in the air.She swallowed hard. It was so tempting to give in right away to that heat and all that heady, fiery need. Bulma’s office and her bedroom weren’t even in the same building, but fuck it, if she left now—if she really hustled—she could be sitting on a hard cock or a hungry mouth in just minutes. She couldn’t even say that she was too proud to run. He’d make it worth her while, after all.It was tempting, but still, Bulma’s first and strongest instinct won out: to keep talking and teasing until Vegeta broke first.Bulma loved it when he broke first.“Why?” she pushed.“You know why,” he pulled.“Spell it out for me.”Bulma heard him start to growl again—as if that actually scared her anymore—but it was interrupted by a hiccup of all things, a tiny little noise that could only be described as adorable. Her jaw dropped, because she knew that particular kind of hiccup, and it was one she would never have guessed she’d ever hear coming out of Vegeta.“Wait, oh my god, wait,” Bulma said, her hands pressed excitedly to her face. “Are, are you…drunk?”“No, I am n—” Vegeta’s protest was cut off by another tipsy little hiccup, equally as adorable as the first, if not more so. Bulma made a high-pitched noise of glee, to which Vegeta unconvincingly scoffed, “No, shut up, no I’m not! Your mother insis—” Hic. “—insisted, she insisted, that the meat tonight be paired with wine—” Hic. “—and as I had a lot of m—” Hic. “—meat—”“You had a lot of wine?” Bulma finished for him with a teasing cackle.She heard an indignant huff from Vegeta’s end, and she imagined him blushing. She could see it so clearly when she let her eyes flutter shut, his face all flushed from the (apparently plentiful) wine and her ribbing; she could also perfectly see the flush spreading to his broad chest—bare in her imagination—and further still. She imagined following the heat of Vegeta’s skin with her tongue until her lips wrapped around the thick, dark head of his cock; her mouth watered, and she felt herself ache for the heaviness of it on her tongue.“Mm,” Bulma hummed, trailing her fingers along her collarbone, brushing over the tops of her breasts. She was now heavily flushed herself, and getting more excited by the minute. “Yeah, you must have—I don’t think I’ve seen you get like this from beer.”“You Earthlings make weak stuff, anyway.” Hic. “And don’t laugh at me.”“I’m not!” She was. “I just can’t believe you got wine drunk with my mom.”“Would’ve gotten wine drunk with you if you’d even been at the damn meal,” Vegeta snapped, his speech a little slurred. Hic.Bulma blinked to herself and soundly ignored the tender little bloom of warmth she felt in her chest, hearing this.Bad idea bad idea bad idea, her stubborn mind repeated in time to the thudding of her heart.Then, as Vegeta’s tipsy mind sluggishly caught up with his tipsy mouth, he hurriedly added, “I-I mean—tha’ isn’t what I mean!”“What do you mean, Vegeta?” Bad idea bad idea bad idea—“You need to eat,” he said, suddenly firm, practically sober if one wasn’t paying too close attention. “You’re of no use to me dead of malnutrition. Don’t be stupid, woman.”“Sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Bulma teased, almost relieved.“Oh, shut up!”“What, do you like me or something?”“I actually fucking despise you.”It drew an earnest laugh out of Bulma; their easy banter always did. She spun lazily around in her chair, turning fully away from her computer, and countered, “Uh huh—you despise me so much you’re lying around naked, waiting for me to come to your room and ravish you?”Vegeta made a noise—a gasp, a choked little sound, his pleasure coming through with surprising transparency—and then he said, his voice low and rough, “I’m not in my room.”And it took her a second, but Bulma caught his meaning.His…weirdly intimate meaning.She bit her lip and rubbed a hand over her suddenly hot cheek. “Oh, really?”“…your bed is bigger,” was his grumbled excuse.The most surprising thing about Vegeta sleeping in her bed—not just fucking her in her bed, but actually sleeping in it, peacefully and often—was how long it took for Bulma to take notice of the habit. Which was stupid, obviously—smartest woman in the world and all—except that it all felt so bizarrely good and right that maybe, just maybe, it was less that she couldn’t remember when or how it started, and more that she’d simply refused to acknowledge it until the evidence was undeniable.(It wasn’t like it meant anything; just like the sex. She tossed and turned and slept like shit when Vegeta kept to his own bed, but it didn’t mean anything.)“I’ll tell you again that our mattresses are the same size,” Bulma said lightly as she darted over to her office door and swiftly locked and bolted it, her pulse hammering away, completely uncool. “And you haven’t corrected me about your Royal Nakedness.”“You’re awfully chatty tonight,” Vegeta sneered—she could hear it, that sneer, she knew it so well; it was a comfort, a pleasure, even.“You called me, sweetheart,” Bulma said with a smirk. She landed back in her wide desk chair and let her legs fall open under her skirt, waiting.“I called you on this stupid device so you would come here.”“Can’t; I’m working.”“You obviously are not!”“What are you gonna do about it?” Bulma pressed as she raked her nails teasingly up her own thigh. She let her fingertips travel towards her increasingly alert pussy until she was just barely grazing her panties, her skin buzzing. All at once, she was struck with a powerful need to feel the weight of his hands on her, the steel of his grip—but this would have to do for now. “Come on, what would you do if you were here, huh?”Vegeta went stutteringly quiet, which was as frustratingly sexy as it was unsurprising. Bulma knew that words weren’t exactly his strong suit. She hadn’t expected him to jump at leading any kind of verbal exercise, much less a dirty one.Luckily for both of them, she was more than happy to do the talking.“Maybe…you’d have to teach me a lesson for ignoring you,” she coaxed, to which he responded with a strangled sigh and a desperately quick yes. “Yeah, I think you would. I think you’d have to come bend me over my desk and spank me to really get it through my head.”Just picturing it was getting Bulma wet and restless: her cheek pressed against the disheveled desk, her dress rucked up over her hips, one of his hands pinning both of her wrists behind her back while the other punished her ass with clap after heavy clap. She imagined his erection straining through those skin-tight workout shorts, pulsing needily between the stinging flesh of her ass cheeks, grinding against the thong barely covering her cunt, teasing her until she cried out from the burn of all of her want.She took a slow, calming breath.“Wanna know what I’m wearing?” Bulma murmured, her pulse and her pussy fluttering. She didn’t wait for his reply, though the noise he made was eager. “That little blue dress with the black flowers, the one you almost ripped off of me last week when you fucked me up against my bedroom wall, remember? I told you not to tear it but then I couldn’t get the buttons undone quick enough, so you just sucked my tits through the fabric.”“I remember,” Vegeta grunted, his ragged breathing making the line crackle.It wasn’t until that moment that Bulma suddenly clocked the other familiar sound coming from his end of the line, the one she’d been hearing for a minute or two now, almost as labored as his breath: the sound of skin pumping wetly against skin. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to keep it quiet or if he wanted her to hear exactly what he was doing, working his own dick, getting himself off to her dirty words.Either way, it shot a heavy bolt of desire through Bulma, another zing straight between her thighs. She spread her legs further apart as she popped open button after button down the front of her dress. Her nipples were already hard from the memory of Vegeta’s mouth on them, hot and wet and rough through her prim cotton dress, sucking and biting while he filled his hands with her hips and worked her pussy up and down his cock. Bulma had to bite her lip to keep from letting out a humiliating little whimper.Somehow, she found a steady enough voice to ask the question to which she already knew the answer: “Are you touching yourself?”“Yes,” came his hushed reply. He choked out a groan and then added, almost nervously, “A-are you?”“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Bulma said as she smoothed two fingers back and forth over the embarrassingly damp spot on her panties. Her breath hitched when she heard Vegeta’s faint moan, like he was trying to hold it in. At this point? Silly boy. “Yeah, yeah you would. You wanna know if I’m making myself wet thinking about you, waiting in my bed, all naked and needy—”“‘M not needy,” Vegeta said with an audible pout.“You’re the fucking definition of needy,” Bulma hissed, her palm grinding harsh and hard against her clit. “You want all my attention, all the time, don’t you, baby?” She heard him gasp. Her other hand went to twist roughly at a nipple through her skimpy bralette as she imagined his fist dragging up and down his dick. “You called me up just so I’d know how much you want me, huh? You wanted to rile me up while you lie around in my bed with your cock out, touching yourself for me, begging to hear me say how wet you make me?” When she heard an open-mouthed groan, Bulma jerked against her hand, wishing it was his tongue. “Yeah, you want to know how fucking wet I am, thinking about that hard cock in your hand?”“Fuck,” Vegeta moaned. She imagined his hips jerking up, his hands in her hair, his cock down her throat, her cunt aching and dripping between her legs. “Y-yes—fuck…”“Do you want my mouth on you as much as I do?” Bulma whispered as she stroked herself in earnest through her ruined panties. He replied affirmatively with another strangled sound—a sound that she loved—but Bulma was on a roll tonight and that just wouldn’t do. “Where do you want it, huh? You have to tell me. You want me to choke on your big cock? Want me on my knees for you? I need to hear you say it.”Vegeta exhaled painfully slowly, a heavy but excited sound. However much wine he’d actually had that night, it was surely working to loosen his tongue, as Bulma knew he would’ve otherwise needed a lot more teasing before he’d say something like he did next.“I-I want you…to sit on my face,” he quietly rasped in a voice thick with lust, “while you suck my cock.”
Oh, fuck yes.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Bulma whined before finally shoving her hand down her panties to touch herself fully. She was absolutely soaked, and her middle and ring fingers slid in and out of her pussy like it was nothing. “Y-yeah, fuck, okay, I think maybe I’ll let you fuck me with your tongue. Fuck, you’re so good at that, such a good boy for me.”Vegeta made a whine that echoed hers, but even needier, even less restrained, and the sound of his hand moving desperately around his cock seemed to speed up.(To be completely honest, Bulma was never sure what he liked better in bed: being told he was bad, or being told he was good.)One thing Bulma did know about the man, with unshakable certainty: Vegeta loved to sixty-nine. Fucking loved it. His enthusiasm for eating her out was always rather high (as was his enthusiasm for getting his dick sucked, unsurprisingly), but there was something about that particular position that drove him up the fucking wall. The angles of their mouths, the ease of their rhythm, the weight of their buzzing, sweat-slicked torsos pressed so fully up against each other. When Vegeta locked those powerful arms around her waist or her thighs—when he hungrily gripped handfuls of her ass—when he buried his face in her cunt with a moan and parted her lips with his tongue and licked into her like there wasn’t a better taste in the whole universe—well, Bulma was only human. She had no power in her to anything but to wail around the hard cock in her mouth and come on his face as many times as she could.Bulma whimpered pathetically out loud at just the memory of it, and then she thought to herself, Fuck.She needed to slow down.She suddenly felt like she had lost the upper hand completely, already so wet, so raring to go, to race to the moon, in her fucking desk chair. Vegeta was the one who was supposed to be all needy and writhing and yet here she was, getting high on her own supply.Amateur hour was over.“Hmn, but what if I just wanted to ride your face all night? What if I don’t let you come at all?” Bulma breathed as she, with great effort, stilled the fingers inside of her. She bit her lip harshly when she slipped them out, grinning heatedly to herself as she went back to slowly circling her clit. “I’d take my time, too, just watch me. I wouldn’t let you have my mouth or my pussy or even my hands. Could you handle that? Or would you beg me to fuck you? ‘Cause I bet I could make you beg.”“Nnng,” Vegeta groaned through gritted teeth.“What was that? I can’t hear you when you don’t enunciate, dear.”“You f-fucking—”“Yes?”“Fuck you,” Vegeta seethed, the hate and the need both dripping from his ragged tone, the sound of his hand pleasuring himself never once letting up. Then, in a half-destroyed, utterly desperate voice, he quietly said, “Please, Bulma…”(This man was going to be the fucking death of her.)“Please, what?” Bulma said, swallowing her groan. Her heart hammered in staccato as her quick, slick fingers slid back inside her cunt with ease. She felt her orgasm picking up swift and dangerous momentum.Once again, she didn’t expect him to actually follow her order to the letter. That was their game, wasn’t it—push and pull and buck and yield and tease and explode.They both liked that game. Bulma thought that she knew it pretty well by now.But Vegeta was full of surprises tonight, it seemed.“Please fuck me,” he said in one long, harsh exhale.He sounded needy and pliable, like a complete mess—like the exact same kind of mess that Bulma could always hear in her own voice right about the time when he had her on her hands and knees—wet mouth panting open—voice and body shaking with the need to be pinned down and dominated—Actually, Bulma thought to herself at that moment, fuck taking her time.Fuck control.Bulma wanted to come hard and she wanted it now.So she thrust three fingers into her achingly wet cunt and fucked herself quick and rough, her clit throbbing against her palm, her nipple rolled tight between the fingers on her other hand. She imagined pulling his hair and greedily taking her pleasure from his waiting mouth, imagined fucking his face and his cock and his fingers, imagined his big hands pressing her open until she was wrung dry by bliss.“Oh my god,” Bulma squealed. “Ohh, fuck—oh my god, good boy—o-oh fuck, Vegeta—!”She came so fucking hard, it was almost embarrassing.Not that embarrassment would have had the power to stop her from bucking through the comedown of that potent first orgasm, shaking as she hungrily drank in the sounds of Vegeta panting and groaning on the other end of the phone. All at once, the reckless little noises he made, that he’d been making this whole time, tipped Bulma fully over into something even more intense.Some sort of Bulma outside of herself—a woman more than capable of domination, even when boneless with pleasure—had the clarity of mind to say in a firm, authoritative voice, “Stop touching yourself right fucking now.”Vegeta gasped—he genuinely sounded shocked, which for some reason was completely fucking hot—and the sound of skin pumping skin in the background abruptly ceased.
Holy shit.
“You’re gonna do what I say if you wanna come, okay?” Bulma panted, flying higher than ever. The pace of her fingers slowed to a stop as she gave the needy pulse between her legs a measured rest, but she kept herself full, ready for more. “Hmm? Oh, I mean,” she said—simpering, sarcastic, verging on cruel, all for the sharp thrill of it—“unless you don’t think you have the self control for it.”“Just shut the fuck up and tell me what to do,” Vegeta spat, the acid in his growl all but drowned out by his wretched pleasure.(Fuck, she nearly came a second time just from that.)“Keep your hands off your dick,” Bulma told him, stern but honey-sweet. As she talked, she circled her fingers around a hard nipple, tugging and teasing, while her pussy fluttered needily around her other hand. “You can touch your thighs or your stomach, but that’s it, okay? Understand?”“Yes.”“Good boy,” she said, and Vegeta whined (fuck fuck fuck, he actually whined). “Now,” she managed to say in a husky but even voice, “I want you to close your eyes and picture me on top of you, sitting on that big, hard cock. And I’m so fucking wet—I’m already a fucking mess for you, fuck, you have no idea—I’m so wet that I could just take the whole thing, all at once. Mmm, I’ll ride you hard and fast and fucking messy, baby. You like that?”“Yes,” Vegeta said through a clenched jaw.“You want more?”
“Yes—!”
“I want you flat on your back for me,” Bulma sighed, no longer trusting her voice to go louder without sounding as wrecked as she felt. “I want to pin you down to my bed and fuck myself on you—want you at my fucking mercy—hhnn, yeah, and I’ll fuck your mouth with my fingers while I’m bouncing on your cock, you stuff me and I’ll stuff you, yeah?—make you lie back and fucking take it—mmnn, I bet you’d hate that, wouldn’t you—hah, no, you’d fucking love it, you want it so bad—”“Yes, yes, I want it!” Vegeta keened, urgent and lewd. He sounded like he was getting dangerously close, even without laying a finger on his cock. The idea of working Vegeta into such a needy mess that he would finish hands-free—thrusting those tight hips into the air, shooting his load up his own chest, maybe even spilling onto his lips—had Bulma clenching shamelessly around her hand.“Oh yeah,” she shuddered. “Fuck—I know you do, baby, I know you want me to fuck you stupid—where are your hands?”“On the sheets,” he answered immediately, sounding almost pained. No doubt the bedsheets would be torn to ribbons come morning, but gods it would be so fucking worth it.“Good boy,” Bulma said, and up until now she thought she was only repeating the praise for Vegeta’s sake. Then he let out the filthiest, most desperate moan yet, and it made her cunt pulse hard and hot around her fingers, all slickness and piercing want. She shuddered, and she couldn’t hide it in her voice, but even the loss of control felt divine. “F-fuck, hah, fuck—you’re, you’re doing so good for me, you’re gonna make me come again. You make me feel so fucking good, Vegeta, you know that?”Vegeta’s reply came in the familiar form of heated, guttural rasp of a very alien tongue. Bulma still didn’t know exactly what he was saying when he was so far gone that his native language slipped out, but it had happened enough times for her to recognize it as a repeated phrase. The meaning she’d gathered—at least from the actions that always followed—seemed to be: “Let’s fuck each other to death.”(Maybe she was projecting.)“You wanna touch yourself again?” Bulma whispered, her head swimming almost drunkenly. She was so fucking close, and she needed him there with her. “Huh, wanna come for me, baby?”“Yes, fuck, yes—fuck!” Vegeta howled, and then he recited that phrase again like a foreign prayer, incomprehensible to Bulma’s ears but so clearly reverent that she found herself on the precipice of release.Her hands moved frantically over her own body, twisting and groping and fucking and working for that orgasm. She wanted it, she needed it, she needed him.As Bulma coiled tighter and tighter in on herself, she barely recognized the voice coming out of her mouth, wild and pleading, “Do it, do it, come for me, touch yourself and come for me and say my name, say my name, Vegeta—”“Bulma,” he said, and she could hear the frenzied movement of his hands on his cock restart.“Bulma,” he whined, and her breath hitched like a struck match.“Bulma,” he groaned, and then his language switched, repeating again and again with her name winded throughout his lustful rambling. “Bulma—fuck, I-I’m—!”“Yes,” she chanted, and she curled her fingers inside herself, “yes,” and she fucked her clit on her palm, “yes,” and she threw her head back and sobbed, “yes, come on, give it to me—a-ahh!”Bulma came just like that: working her body to the brink of madness and giving orders to one of the most dangerous men she’d ever met. When she heard Vegeta’s own near-breathless cry of release—gasping and groaning like his heart was imploding—her vision nearly whited out.After she caught her breath and blinked through the syrupy fog of her orgasm—it might’ve been seconds, hours, eons—Bulma started shakily straightening herself out as best she could. She did up the buttons of her dress and cleaned her hands with a couple of wet wipes she found in the drawer. She powered down her computer and pushed some files back into place on her desk. She kept her earbuds in and her voice low and soothing, and the whole time she murmured soft, sweet nonsense for Vegeta’s comedown. She was babbling, she knew that, but what she said was never the important part; he clearly craved the aftercare, even if he would never admit it under pain of dishonor and death.She didn’t need him to admit it, as long as he kept leaning into her touch like a starving animal. As long as he kept letting her help him, that was enough.(They didn’t need to talk about it. It didn’t need to mean anything. It was enough.)“Still awake over there, Prince?” Bulma whispered as she listened to his slow, measured breathing.Vegeta snored peacefully in response.Fucking nerd fell asleep wearing the scouter, she thought. I gotta give him shit for that in the morning.-Because she was not only the smartest but the kindest woman on Earth, Bulma removed the scouter from Vegeta’s face before she stripped down and passed out next to him. When she blinked awake to a faceful of sunlight, she was alone in bed.Bulma fixed the Gravity Room’s electrical system in less than two days, unbothered and without incident. She managed to finish all of her paperwork too, and Vegeta kept out of her way while she did it.He took meals when she wasn’t around. He avoided her calls and texts. He even slept in his own bed.The only one of her texts that Vegeta did not ignore during that time was the heads-up that the Gravity Room was 100% back in order. Before the week was over, he and the little spacecraft were gone.