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Rainy Night:


It had been two nights since they had returned home from the lookout. Vegeta had been keeping himself isolated from his family. If he wasn’t in the G.R., he was out somewhere, possibly training. Bulma wasn’t sure if he had even eaten since they got back.


Bulma understood that her husband had a great deal to work out for himself after killing all those innocent spectators at the World Martial Arts Tournament and, essentially, playing a part in freeing Majin Buu.


Even after sacrificing his life in an attempt to end the pink monster and coming up with the plan that brought back everyone he killed and finally finish Buu, he still couldn’t face his family. But Bulma hoped that he would soon give themselves a chance to work things out between them as well.


Rain poured down as she tried to sleep, but she was still too worried about Vegeta and decided it was time to go to him and let him know it’s okay.


She knew he was in the training room, and so she slipped her robe on and headed there.


Once she got to the door, she hesitated, wondering if she should intrude. After a few minutes of debating with herself, she tentatively let herself in.


What she saw tore at her heart.


Vegeta was sitting on the floor, propped against the control panel, crying. Sobbing! Broken droids were scattered everywhere, and he had no training program running.


Bulma ached to hold him. Comfort him. She walked up to him, slowly, and sat next to him. It took him a few minutes to notice her, but he said nothing.


She placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off.


“How could you stand to even look at me,” he said finally, almost inaudibly.


“I love you, Vegeta,” she whispered. “And I’m worried about you.”


Private Eye:


“Go away,” he rasped through his tears.


“And, if I don’t?” she asked gently, but he didn’t reply.


After a few minutes, she decided to try another approach.


“Look at me, Vegeta,” she soothed. Slowly, painfully, he did.


She sniffed the air. “Ew,” she said, crinkling her nose. “Smells like someone needs a shower.” She looked at him, her finger on his chest. “It’s you!” Then, she stood and walked toward the exit before turning back to him. “Well, are you waiting for me to role out the red carpet or something? Let’s go, homeboy.”


She stood waiting for a few minutes as he blinked at her. It didn’t take a private eye to see what she was doing, but she still hoped he would take the bait, for his sake.


Reluctantly, he stood, but didn’t move, looking at her as if wondering what to do next. She walked up to him, took him by the hand, and led him out of the gravity chamber.


They walked together, hand in hand in silence until they reached their bedroom. Bulma led him into the bathroom and closed the door. She stripped off her clothes and helped him do the same before turning on the shower.


Once they stepped in, Bulma helped Vegeta wash himself and encouraged him to do the same for her. Her hands explored his soap slicked body as she kissed him delicately. He was slow to respond, but once he did, his kisses were languid as his hands roamed her body.


Bulma had missed this. She missed his touch, his kisses, just being in his arms.


She shampooed his thick mane, raking her hands through the coarse hair as she kissed him again, more ardently. He did likewise for her, his fingers caressing her scalp, making he shiver.


Femme Fatale:


Once they had turned off the shower and dried off, Bulma led him to the bed, pulling him into her arms and kissing him deeply, probing her tongue and entangling it with his. She could still sense his reluctance, but was determined to show him that he was still worthy of her love. Of her forgiveness.


Her hands glided down his broad chest, and she sat on the bed as those hands slid down to his hips until one hand took a hold of his hardening shaft. She caressed it, eyeing him like a femme fatale, until it was fully erect and then stroked it.


After a few minutes his shaft was slicked with precum, and she stroked more vigorously, his grunts spurring her on.


She ran her tongue along his shaft and swirled it over the head before taking him into her mouth and sucking gently, then with more pressure. She took him in further until the head hit the back of her throat.


“Buh… Bulma,” he rasped as she worked her magic, and it was music to her ears. He was finally starting to become undone, but in the right way.


She withdrew with a pop before crawling to the middle of the bed and waited. She wanted him to make the next move. Wanted this to be on his terms. To let him have control.


To her delight, and relief, he joined her, crawling above her, gazing into her eyes with a mix of adoration and bewilderment. His silent way of saying, ‘I want you. How could you want me?’


She pulled him in for another kiss, holding him as if her life depended on it.


He broke the kiss, staring at her again, as if to say, ‘What am I doing?’


She caressed his cheek. “I love you, Vegeta. I’ve missed you.”


Secret Meeting:


Vegeta stroked her cheek, tears rolling down his own. Bulma had never seen this man so broken as he was in that training room. As he was here. It wasn’t something she was used to seeing, and she hoped he was finding comfort in her tonight, especially after having tormented himself for the last two days over what had happened.


“I… I’m…” he stammered. He wanted to say it, but he was always too proud to admit he was sorry.


“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to say-”


“I’m sorry!” he said in a hoarse voice, as if he needed to say it, regardless.


“You were under Bobbidi’s power. It wasn’t your-”


“I let him,” he snapped. “I let him take control of me. And for what? To fight Kakarot? It wasn’t worth...” Sobs broke from him, and Bulma pulled him down onto her and held him, letting him cry until he couldn’t cry anymore.


It was not unlike Vegeta to keep his softer side to himself until they were in the privacy of their bedroom, as if such moments were their own secret meeting. But rarely did he cry in her presence.


Once he had stopped crying, he pushed himself up to look at her, her eyes gazing into his as she cupped his face with her hands.


“I’m still here,” she declared. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”


“After what I did?”


“Listen to me,” she told him. “I knew what I was getting myself into. And besides, you did everything you could to make things right. You had a moment of weakness, and you tried to correct your mistake-”


“I lost you. Lost Trunks!” he said, choking back fresh tears.


“Yes,” she said, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. “But what matters is we’re here now. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked and devastated by what you did, but the worst part of it was losing you.”




She slapped him on the chest. “Don’t ever die on me again, you hear me?” she demanded as fresh tears of her own welled in her eyes and fell down her cheeks. “That hurt me more than anything!”


“Bulma,” he rasped as he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her desperately, his tongue exploring her sweet mouth, now finally eager to take the love offered to him and give it in return. Her love wasn’t something that his actions were going to extinguish like a cigarette, bewildering as it may seem. But he took it all greedily and with abandon.


His kisses trailed down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, until his mouth was on her breast. He dotted kisses on it before his lips took her dusky, pink nipple and sucked, his tongue flicking the hardened peek, his hand caressing the other. She mewled with pleasure, raking her fingers through his hair. His kisses trailed to the other breast as his hands roamed her body.


He kissed down her torso as he stroked her hips, then her legs, until his mouth hovered over her entrance, his hot breath on her core.


He stroked her inner thighs before parting them, his senses assailed by the sweet scent of her arousal, and he descended on her with light licks and kisses. His tongue explored her delicate folds. He grunted with pleasure as he feasted on her, as if she were the most exquisite delicacy he’d ever tasted, her hips rocking as pleasure mounted within her, his hands holding her hips.


“Ah… Vegeta...” she uttered as she reached for her peek, fisting her blankets as she rode out the wave of her orgasm with a hoarse cry.


Vegeta continued leisurely to feast until she gently nudged him off with her foot.


Double Cross:


Vegeta climbed on top of her again, kissing her fervently, Bulma tasting her essence in his sweet mouth as his hardened shaft rubbed against her lower belly. Her nails clawed his back, her legs entangled with his.


“Please,” she rasped. “I need you. I love you.” Fresh tears streamed down her face as she looked at him, adoringly and without shame.


A million thoughts ran through Vegeta’s mind. How could she surrender herself so completely, after what he had done. He had double crossed her. Abandoned her. And he had lost her. Had lost everything. The mere thought of being in his arms should disgust her. But, here she was, giving herself to him with complete abandon, without a shred of animosity for him.


She pulled him close, wrapping her legs around his hips, encouraging him. “Please,” she whined, and he began to enter, probing gently and first, then with deeper, quicker strokes as Bulma keened in her delight.


Her hips moved of their own volition, meeting his thrusts as they gained more power, rocking her like a fierce ocean as the sound of the rain outside became louder, as if on cue.


Bulma rode her pleasure as her husband chased his own, consumed in rapture as the glorious wave of her climax washed over her, and she slowly descended as Vegeta, too, came, crying out her name as if it were a prayer.


They laid together for several minutes in silence. Vegeta was staring at the ceiling as Bulma just watched him.


He finally looked at her, silent and blank. Bulma knew it was going to take some time for both of them to get over this hurdle. He had blown it. Blown it big time! And he knew it. And he needed to forgive himself as she had forgiven him.


In time.