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Bad Man

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(Coverart by the iconic fanartist Nala1588!  Check her out on her twitter, @nala1588!  You will not be disappointed!)

 

Bad Man-Chapter One-Queen of Wishful Thinking

Glamorous party filled with glamorous people.  There was the klink of crystal champagne flutes filled with the finest Bruts multi-million zeni, Satan City incomes could buy.  White-shirted, black-vested, black tied waiters with five-star, gourmet canapes balanced on silver-plated trays bobbed and weaved in and out and around social circles dripping with jewelry worth far more than the waiters could ever hope to make even if they broke it big in the film industry like they hoped to do with their next audition; dressed in raiment fresh from the most prestigious runways in the world or custom-made and personally bought from the world’s most elite fashion houses.  Competitive talk spouted with a practiced nonchalance only used by the bourgeoisie or those that thought of themselves as the bourgeoisie.  Private yacht measuring contests that were as phallic as anything kept between the legs and equally measured by the size of the bank accounts attested to by the girth of the wallets kept next to rear ends.  Boasts about grand mansions met with boasts about even grander estates.  Artwork purchased directly from high-end galleries or auction houses with infamous totals or bought directly from ‘up and coming,’ supposedly starving artists. 

She looked down on it all from where she stood on the third floor of the mansion, watching the throngs of Satan City’s upper class crowding around the infinity pool while a state-of-the-art sound system played the hippest music of the day throughout the main floor far below her feet.  She gazed out the window like a princess stuck in an ivory tower… with a cell phone to her ear.  She rolled her eyes again, sighed heavily again, having this same stupid conversation again.

“And I said I need you down here by tomorrow night.  Look, I had my secretary make all the arrangements, didn’t Qira call you?”

“I talk to her more than I talk to you.”

“Then none of this should come as a shock to you.  So tell me again why you’re not packing your things and getting on the plane heading here?”

“Because I have my own life, Bulma, I’m not just at your beck and call.  I’m a fucking professional baseball player for God’s sake!  I have a game!”

“And what does that have to do with you flying out after your game?”  Even she heard the slight irritation turning to mocking in her voice.

“You take me for granted, you know that!”

Again, she sighed heavily, “No, Yamcha, I do not take you for granted.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You really believe that?”

“Tch,” Bulma sighed.  This was getting tedious, “Yes, now will you please get the hell down here.”

“You are unbelievable!  You know what, screw your dinner and screw you, and how about I just move out!”

“If that’s what you want.”  Good, she thought, then maybe we can finally get this stupidity over.

“What I want?!  Fine!!  You know what, fine!!  We’ll talk about it when you get back from Satan—”

“Now is as good a time as any.”  Why delay the inevitable?

“Fine!!  Just fine!  Goodbye, Bulma!”  Click.

“Goodbye, Yamcha.”  Bulma pulled the cell phone from her ear and snapped it shut.  One of the biggest weeks of her life and she had to deal with this hassle.  Well, at least it’s over now.  Bulma took one last glance out the window of her attorney’s guest bedroom where she had gone to call her now ex-boyfriend after receiving the message from her secretary that Yamcha was refusing to be here with her…  Bulma Briefs, one of the most powerful women in the world, the most powerful woman in West City, turned sharply on her black high heels and walked out of the guest room.

As she walked down the stairs back to the second floor, she met up with a young man exiting the nearest bathroom to the main floor’s festivities in case the main floor bathrooms were in use.

“Oh, Miss Briefs,” he was decidedly chipper.  It reminded Bulma of her mother.  She deadpanned at him.  Utilizing her long-honed skills at poker faces.

“Mister…?”

He muttered the name, but to be honest she’d tuned out as soon as the question left her lips as she began the descent down the flight of stairs that would take her to the main floor of her attorney’s house.  To the man’s credit though, he didn’t let her blatant indifference stop him from prattling on at her.  Somewhat impressed with his persistence, Bulma tuned in to what he was saying.  Something about becoming one of Briefs Enterprise’s brokers?  Or… whatever?  His interest in the stock market could prove useful and his eagerness would be a help as well.

“So you’re interested in the stock market are you?  Are you up to date on any of our current endeavors?  Say, perhaps, how did the Turtle stock open today?”

“I, I, I don’t know, Miss.”

“You don’t know?  The East City stock exchange opened over half an hour ago and you don’t know.  Listen, if you want a higher position in this company, then you have to be on top of things like this.  Find out.”

“But Launch—”

“Launch is my attorney, she is not one of my brokers and she is especially not one of my brokers of…,” she turned to the man pointedly as they stepped down onto the crowded floor of the main story, “information.”

The young man grinned wolfishly at her.  Nodding.  He understood; good, she wouldn’t have to entirely retrain him.

“Good, I want this whole thing locked in, signed off on, and filed by the end of the week.”

The young man nodded, Bulma shook his hand, then turned on her pinprick heels again and threaded her way through the herd.  She stopped at the coat check, ridiculous notion that was holding her up now that she wanted to make a quick getaway, to snag her jacket on her way out the front door.

“Bulma?”  Came the voice from behind her.

She knew that voice.  In an instant she went from tapping her shoe frustratedly on the tiled floor to turning a smile on the man approaching her.  He was smartly dressed even it was a rather dull brown ensemble, as taupe as taupe can be.  “Blue,” she greeted the tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed man.

They hugged.

“Bulma, looking as beautiful as ever.”  He smiled at her as they pulled back.

“Well, I’m thankful for the compliment from the General of Red Ribbon Industries.”  Then something occurred to her, and she silently wanted to kick herself for even allowing the thought to nag at her, “Tell me, Blue, when we were dating, did you speak to my secretary more than you did me?”  Try as she might, Bulma couldn’t keep her practiced smile from losing part of its shine as she looked to her ex for an answer.

“Bulma,” he fixed her with another smile, a softer one, and she steeled herself for the potential pity that was about to come her way, “I married her.”

Bulma Briefs took the news in as she glanced down at his left hand and the golden band on one of the fingers there.  So that’s where—

“Afterall, I couldn’t wait around for the rest of my life waiting for you to be ready.”

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes so full of kindness and the friendly mirth of a former relationship turned into honest and decent friendship.

“Well,” she fought to clear her throat, “Qira is certainly a lucky woman.  Give her my love when you call her tonight and tell her to not worry about this deal.  We’ll manage, we always do.”

“I will,” he chuckled, “Good night, Bulma.”

He leaned in and gave her cheek a sweet kiss as she said, “Good night, Blue.”

With that, she stepped out of his embrace, turned, and slipped on her jacket as she headed for the front door.  Kami damn it, she scowled, Kami damn Yamcha and Kami damn relationships.

 

Tien Shinhan felt something brush past his shoulder, pushing it a little harsher than he thought was needed.  This was his own home and… he looked up, his eyes widened, and he immediately excused himself to hurry off further into his house.  It didn’t take him long to find his wife sitting on a chair chatting up some handsome man on the sofa, her hand on his knee.  Tien leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Launch,” he hissed.

“What,” her hand left the other man’s knee.

“Bulma’s leaving.”

“What?”  Launch’s eyes bugged.

Tien looked to their front door.  Long, fluffy blonde curls bounced as Launch’s head snapped to her front door.  Aw shit!  Quickly she shot to her feet and made a dash as fast as her stilettos could go…

 

“Kami, damn it,” she hissed again.  And got the feeling that that wouldn’t be for the last time today or even possibly tonight if her insomnia held up.  This deal was important and she was going to be damned if frivolous hassles were going to undermine her business acumen.  She yet again yanked on the door handle without it budging at all.  Fine then, if she couldn’t get it open that way, how about another.  Her eyes immediately scanned what part of the locking mechanism she could see on the top of the inside of the door and her mind began circulating through all of the possibilities that it could indicate on the door’s interior.  When she was younger, she had a natural knack for figuring out how things worked, what made them tick; it was a knack that served her well in the corporate world she now made her living in, very well.

“Bee, Bee, Bee!”

She rolled her eyes and turned around just in time to greet a panicked Launch stumbling to a halt way closer to her than Bulma felt was warranted.  She’d walked out of a party for Kami’s sake.  That was all.

“Where you going?”

“I’m going back to my hotel.”

“But—”

“Give me the keys to your car.”

“What?”

Bulma sighed heavily, honestly her patience for people being slow on the uptake was wearing exceptionally thin after her conversations today, “There are so many people here that Adrian,” she gestured over at the tall and outstandingly muscular man with the piercingly light blue eyes and ginger eyebrows sticking out from under his chauffeur’s cap, “can’t get the limo out and this is your car, right?”

Launch looked back at Bulma’s trapped limo and her massive chauffeur who just waved back at them while admiring a set of glass hummingbird lawn decorations.  At least three other vehicles, one of which was another limousine, was in between.  She turned back to Bulma and looked down at her bright red, new sportscar.

“Yes.”

“Good, give me your keys.”

“But Bulma,” Launch pleaded even as she reached into her own business jacket’s pocket and withdrew her car keys.  Arriving late to her own party thrown on Bulma’s behalf, she’d parked in her own driveway last and just shoved the keys in her pocket with little care for putting them away as she’d gone into instant schmooze mode the moment she walked through her own front door.  Her husband, Tien, had put everything together like a dream and spent a lot while she’d been distracted by work with Bulma.  But now, with Bulma basically storming out, it was all seeming to fall apart.

The teal-haired business executive snatched the keys from her attorney’s hand, “Make something up.  You always do.  I rely on you for that.”

Bulma slipped the key in the door, unlocked, and opened the door.  She slid in quickly and shut the door to block out Launch’s portestations.  Something about being nice to the car, blah, blah, whatever, Bulma just had to get out of here.  She hated crowds and ass-kissing parties anyway.  That was Launch’s realm, what she hired the bloodthirsty, battle-loving lawyer to deal with.

The chief executive officer of Briefs Enterprises analyzed the dashboard in front of her.  It was generic, but there were differences that did denote the car’s newer model.

“Tch,” Bulma rolled her eyes, sticking the key in the ignition.  A car was a car.

She turned the key and heard the motor start.  She pressed the pedal, testing the engine, revving it a little.  She glanced down beside her at the stick.  Bulma wasn’t used to stick shift.  Hell, she wasn’t used to driving herself at all!  Her hand wrapped around the knob and she shifted it out of park and into drive.  Staring straight ahead, she pressed her toe down on the gas.

The car lurched forward.  Bulma readjusted… then readjusted again.  She vaguely heard Launch’s tight voice yelling after her about had Bulma ever driven a stick.  No, but that was beside the point.  Bulma readjusted again and began leapfrogging out of the driveway.  Clearing other vehicles, barely.  After the last car, Bulma felt confident enough to push down firmly on the pedal.  She blazed away.  Something moved at the top of her vision.  She glanced up to see Launch trying to run after her in stilettos.  Bulma returned her eyes to the road ahead and slowed as she came to the main road.  She glanced left then right.  Managed to find the turn signal and pulled onto the main road going left and up further into the hills.  Again, she heard Launch yelling something at a distance.  Something about going the wrong way.  Whatever…

She sped the car along the road, following it up and up and up.  Higher and higher past mansion after mansion.  All pristine courtesy of gardeners and landscapers and all sorts of people that went unseen.  Up ahead she saw another turn coming and… suddenly hit her brakes.  Screeching to a halt in mid left turn.  She was in the middle of a dead end.  She had to turn around.

Shit.”  She hissed.

Jerkily, she pulled the expensive sportscar forward… then back… then forward at an angle… then back at an angle… then she sped out and down the road like a bat out of hell.

“Why!”  Bulma Briefs yelled.  “Why the hell is this city so Kami damn complicated!”

Chapter Text

Glutes the color of caramel and just as lickable flex and ripple on either side of the black satin thong’s slim strip; it’s bulk of fabric cupping his ball sack and manhood admirably.  He rolled over in the dim apartment and shut off his radio alarm blaring pop music meant to get people in the mood for hitting the clubs.  He grudgingly opened his eyes to the window above his bed.  It was dark outside, but not too much yet, the sun must have just gone down.  Time to go to work. 

He stood up from bed having slept on top of what he used to pass for sheets and padded over to the stove.  As he’d suspected, his roommate had left some ramen in the pot.  It was cold and had soaked up pretty much all of the broth, but it was food.  A dirty fork retrieved from the sink conveyed the mushy noodles safely to his mouth.  Two forkfuls and the scraps he’d been left with were gone; he lifted the pot to his lips and tilted, slurping up the spoonful or so of broth.  He dumped the pot and fork in the sink, stomach protesting loudly for more but he didn’t have the time and that was the last package of ramen in the apartment.  He had to get out there and get to work.  Maybe he could use a few zeni from the night to stop by the bodega at the end of the street and pick up some more, ramen was on sale right now, four for a zeni.  Sometimes there was a benefit to getting the expired shit the hell out of the store.

On his way back to bed, he swiped his clothes from the floor.  Normally, he wasn’t so messy, but last night had been rough.  Not enough customers.  He’d stayed out way past his usual end time of daybreak just to see if he could pick up a few of the on-their-way-to-work crowd.  But no, no customers.  A few interested but no takers.  He let the bustle and uproar from the hallway outside his door and the street outside his window wash over him as he slipped the black pleather pants over one foot and up one muscular calf before starting on the other leg.  These were his best work pants.  So skintight they showed off every slip and slither of sinew and every nook and crevasse of finely etched muscle.  And that they were actually two-tone accentuated that.  In one light, they were black and at another angle they were midnight blue.  So skintight he had to slip them up his legs an inch at a time.  So skintight he had to slip them up his legs an inch at a time.  But the effort meant the reward of showing off his fantastic ass.  And that meant money.

He carefully threaded his lilac-colored leather belt through every loop of his waistband.  The pants were tight enough that he didn’t really need it, but for some reason women and the men that patronized him really got a kick out of watching him unbuckle it… then loosen it… then unbuttoning his tight pants… unzipping his fly before reaching in underneath his thong and withdrawing himself for their viewing pleasure before getting down to the business they’d negotiated.

He reached down to the bed and picked up the wine red, low cut tank.  Slipping it easily over his head and down his torso.  It didn’t hug his body near as much as his pants, but it still should off the impressive work and natural Adonis-ness of his physique.  What little it left to the imagination earned him more money for someone dying to get a peek at what was underneath.  The price of admission.  He smirked as he tucked its hem into his pants before zipping up, buttoning up, and buckling up. 

He parked himself on his bed.  Forgoing socks, he slipped on his lilac boots tipped and trimmed with metallic gold paint. Then reached behind him for his dark blue, denim, bolero vest.  He slipped it on with practiced ease.  He stood up and made his way over to the bathroom to get a good look at himself in the one mirror his ramshackle apartment had.  Yep, the vest showed off his muscular arms perfectly.  He made his way back over to his bed and picked up something from his nightstand.  He slipped it on over his head, grooming it nicely.  Making it a decent amount shorter than his natural hair, spikey in a different way than his natural hair, and quite a different color.  It wasn’t only men that preferred blondes.  He took one look then another from a different side.  He was ready to go to work.  Well, almost. He swung by his nightstand again to pick up his leather, lilac-colored gloves.  They were a really badass looking motorcycle type and they read absolutely dangerous bad boy after he cut the fingertips off.  He had found in his line of work that women liked a bit of rough.  Liked to fuck it in a car or cheap, by-the-hour motel for a quick session of letting out their dirty side.  Of course, he opened the door to his apartment and was met with the full force of all the screaming and yelling that rang through the hallways day and night, he was what his clientele would consider dirt.

He shut the door and locked it securely behind him.  Stepping out and falling into the line with the other dregs of society that called this squalid, rent-by-the-month hotel home.  There were others like him here, other hookers who worked the streets at night, and plenty of other types.  Drug dealers.  Drug users.  Women and the screaming children hiding out from husbands or boyfriends that beat the crap out of them.  People who scraped a meal together from dumpsters and garbage cans in back alleys.  The mentally ill that managed to panhandle enough for rent and the aluminum foils they decorated their windows with.  He trudged along with their sorry evening procession down the flights of stairs from the top floor… until he got to the top of the last flight of stairs.

Paragus was down below talking, or more rather yelling, at one of the other hookers that called this place home.

“Look, it’s quite simple to understand.  The rent is due today!  Right now!  You fork over the money by the end of the night and you get to live here another month.  You don’t pay me and you can think twice about coming back.  Do you understand me!”  He barked at the girl, making her cower away from him.

The look of sheer fear in her dark eyes.  Even from this distance, he could tell she was trembling.

Shit, he hissed to himself.  That was right.  It was rent day.  Paragus would come after him next and the old, sleazy man took a perverse pleasure in humiliating and degrading him.

Quickly, he raced back up to his apartment.  He might, just might have the month’s rent saved in his and his roommate’s secret stash.  That was assuming his roommate hadn’t tapped into it.  A big assumption.

 

Safely inside, he raced back into the bathroom and lifted the lid on the back of the toilet.  He nearly threw the porcelain lid out the bathroom door and across the apartment.

The fucking bastard had taken it!  All of it!

He shoved the lid back into place and raced out to his front door.  He locked it.  That would hold off Paragus.  The old bastard would just think that he and his roommate were already out working.  But he would come back, Paragus always came back.  Paragus liked humiliating and being a sick, twisted son of a bitch to people, especially younger men, but he loved money more.  And he loved taking it from others even more than that.

There was no other choice.  No other way.

He dashed to his bed.  Grabbed his wallet from his nightstand and slipped it into the inside pocket of his vest.  He slipped out his window and into the dark, grim, grimy night of Satan City.

*                      *                      *

He was going to kill him.  He was going to fucking.  Kill.  Him!  How stupid could that asshole be?!  How careless?!

His pace was speedy.  His step firm.  His look intense.  Like he was a man with places to go and people to see.  Which he did, but first things first.  He needed to find his roommate.  The asshole had just made this night a lot more important.  It was bad enough that last night had been so slow and if this night went the same way… shit, he’d be homeless.  Again.

Well, if he had to earn the rent tonight, he sure as hell wasn’t going to be earning it alone.

He stopped at the intersection and waited for the signal to cross.  As the seconds ticked by, he wanted to scream.  His blood was boiling.  He wanted to beat the crap of his roommate, the great big dumb oaf.  He wanted to beat the crap out of anyone near him—

“Eh, welcome to Satan City.  What’s your dream?”  He looked beside him at the vagrant that showed up out of nowhere.  There was a wholesome look in the man’s eyes that let him know the man was a relatively benign crazy, his dirty and worn clothes letting him know that this one lived on the streets themselves.  Most likely doing what he was doing now and shouting random shit of encouragement in his outbursts of insanity.

“Eh, man, what’s your dream?”  The stranger repeated.

“Tch,” he looked away just in time to see the signal change and the pedestrian signal go green.  Thankfully, the stranger didn’t follow him as he stomped off across the street.  Dreams, really?  Those were for children and he stopped being one of those a while ago.

He looked around him.  After all, who dreamed of this?  No one, that’s who.  The streets weren’t paved with gold here or cobblestoned for the prancing feet of horse drawn carriages; they were paved with vomit, urine, and worse, and yes, there was indeed worse.  What crunched under your feet wasn’t stone, it was used syringes or vials or pipes of whatever drug someone was doing to escape or die.  There weren’t the elegant horns announcing the arrival of royalty, they were sirens on the police cars and ambulances blowing through to the newest crime scene.  And if it wasn’t them, then it was the alarm of a car being broken into.  A near hourly occurrence as soon as the sun went down.  When he dreamed as a child, it was nothing like this.  When he dreamed now, it was about not eating half a package of ramen so that he didn’t starve to death or mixing packets of tomato sauce with water and lying to himself that it was hot tomato soup.

No, there were no dreams out here anymore.  Not for him.

Suddenly a throbbing clenched his chest.  Deep and coming up from his feet.  His dark eyes narrowed at the glowing neon monstrosity the bass booming was coming from.  Club Frieza.  This would be the first place his roommate would go to spend the hundreds of dollars they needed to keep a roof over their heads.  He scowled at the bouncer.  The great big bouncer wearing purple and had his curly hair ridiculously styled to look like he had horns coming out of his head cringed and practically scurried out of his way.  He and his temper were a familiar acquaintance of Ginyu’s.  The man to move his ass out of the way, job be damned, when he was on a warpath.

This would be the only place his dumbass friends would go to spend their hard earned and already earmarked money.

 

A grand party befitting the trendy nightspot, despite its seedy location, was raging inside.  Pink lights illuminated the dim interior.  Glitter rained down from the ceiling onto throngs of scantily dressed men and women writhing like idiots to the tracks being laid down by the DJ up on the stage.  All around him were glamorous people enjoying a glamorous party.  But he ignored it all.  Instead his eyes zeroed in on the spiral staircase heading upstairs to his right.  He headed straight for them.  Taking them two at a time.  Laughter drowning out the music as the upper levels rose above the din, but not above the partying.  This was the private area.  The VIP area.  The least respectable spot in the joint.  Stepping up into the room, his eyes had no choice but to focus on the only table up here.  Surrounded by a dark purple velvet bench with a high back.  Tufted.  And there his roommate was.  Raditz Son was laughing it up next to the simpering, laughing jackass that was Zarbon.  After a few moments, they noticed him.

“Vegeta,” Raditz cheered.

Finally.

Vegeta Prince stepped forward.  His eyes narrowed even more dangerously at his roommate.  Even at a distance and in pretty much shit lighting, he could tell that Raditz was fucking high.  So that was it.  That was always it.  He’d come to his favorite dealer, who also so happened to be the local pimp, to spend their rent money on fucking drugs.

“Where is it, Ray?”

“What,” Raditz giggled.

“Where’s the fucking rent money?”

“Huh,” the idiot tried to deadpan but ended up descending into hyena’s laughter again.

“The rent money, Raditz.  Where the fuck is it!  It’s due tonight!”

“Hey, you know who’d be able to spot us the money?”

Vegeta’s eyes flitted to Zarbon.  The olive-skinned bastard reclining on his velvet like some Roman noble.  He looked back at Raditz.

“No.”  His fists clenched at his sides.

“Aw, but Vegeta,” Zarbon purred, “I’d be very good to you.  Treat you well.”  He said as he reached out and petted Raditz’s long, black hair.

Vegeta’s stomach lurched.  “I said no.”

“But Zarbon here—”

“Then why don’t you work for Zarbon.”  Vegeta snapped before turning on his heels and stomping off.

Fine, then, just fine.  If I have to earn the rent tonight by myself, then I will.  Shit, he didn’t have many rubbers with him.  He hoped his clients were going to be more into oral tonight or watching him jerkoff rather than any actual fucking.

 

By the time his boots hit the main floor of the nightclub, he heard the bounding footsteps coming down the stairs after him.

“Geets!”

Vegeta spun on his heels just in time for Raditz to hit the brakes on his heels.  Reeling backwards.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Okay, okay, Gee—Vegeta,” Raditz quickly corrected himself, holding up his hands in surrender in the face of his friend’s infuriated glare.

“I mean, Gods damn, Vegeta.”  Raditz straightened up.  Shrugging off his own exasperation, “Live a little, will ya’?”

“Paragus was looking for the rent.”  Vegeta stated matter-of-factly.  “So where exactly would you like me to live now that you’ve snorted our rent money up your FUCKING NOSE!  Where do expect us to live?!”  Vegeta’s lips curled around the word with disdain.  “With Zarbon?!

Raditz scoffed and rolled his eyes with dramatic effect.  But the truth was he didn’t exactly relish the idea of Zarbon becoming his pimp, he’d seen what living under Zarbon’s collar and leash was like.  And it would really be a collar and leash.  The green-haired, good-looker was also a good talker.  He schmoozed and showed prospective new recruits to his ranks a seemingly good life.  Like pretty much residing in this place’s number two VIP room, the number one being reserved for the club owner, Frieza Cold.  And that was another problem, Zarbon himself was owned.  By Frieza and he was notorious on the streets for being, well… there was a reason Zarbon’s charmed lie only lasted so long as you hadn’t agreed to become one of his hookers.  Once you did, all that glitz, all the glamour currently surrounding Raditz, would be gone.  All of this, Raditz had seen personally first-hand with others that walked the streets turning tricks, was meant solely for Zarbon.  This was his life and he used it as a very effective lure.  Sure, Raditz came here to play.  Zarbon through Frieza and this nightclub specifically, the hippest and trendiest place in the entire city, had access to the best drugs.  Some really good shit.  So Raditz let Zarbon ‘groom him’ or schmooze him with the best stuff at the discounted cost of his and Vegeta’s apartment’s monthly rent.  Also, Raditz Son knew full well that Zarbon wasn’t really interested in adding him to his collection, it was Vegeta.  Zarbon wanted to add Vegeta to his collection.  For some strange reason, maybe it was Zarbon’s taste for muscular, young men or maybe because on the streets Vegeta was considered an ‘exotic’, but the emerald Adonis definitely wanted Vegeta Prince.  And he was willing to do anything to get him.  Including sharing an extended taste of the charmed lie with Raditz in the hopes that Vegeta’s best friend would be able to schmooze him under Zarbon’s spell.

Radtiz sniffed, wiping the back of his hand under his nose.

Vegeta saw a torrent of emotions play over his friend and roommate’s face.  He still didn’t know why the long-haired oaf did the things he did.  Why the drugs?  Why the alcohol when the drugs weren’t in ready supply?  But he did know one thing…

“He wanted you to get me for him again, didn’t he?”

Raditz’s averted gaze slid back to Vegeta.  The pounding beat of the dance music stifled the air between them and the throngs of spasmodic thrill-seekers tightly enclosed them.

“Yeah.”  He said quietly.

Vegeta nodded once.  “Come on then, let’s get out there and go to work.  We’ve got rent to make.”

Vegeta turned and started heading for the door.  By his second step, Raditz was right there walking along beside him.  They left Club Frieza, passed Ginyu trying desperately to show his woefully misguided dance moves to some definitely underage girls trying to flirt their way into the club, and broke free into the night air of their side of Satan City.

“So was the shit good at least?”  Vegeta asked as they passed under a streetlight, heading to their usual working spot.

“Yeah,” Raditz laughed with a big Cheshire cat grin on his face, “the best.  You know I wouldn’t sell you out for anything less.”

Vegeta smirked, “And he still hasn’t figured out that you’re using him yet?”

Raditz smirked, “He has, but he still only has eyes for you.  So he humors me.”

“Yeah, well, he can keep dreaming.”

“Eh, man, what’s your dream?”

They kept walking past the stranger.

Chapter Text

“Hey!”  Raditz shouted as he and Vegeta headed to their usual corner.  Up ahead, he saw an intruder.  Some other guy looking to use their corner!  Their territory!  “Get your ass out of our spot!”  The long-haired man shouted.  His full mane of spiky black hair swaying back and forth behind him as he charged up the sidewalk to the offender.

The guy didn’t hear him… or was more likely ignoring him.  It was a well-known fact of the streets that Raditz Son had a loudmouth and used it to great effect regularly.  He ran right up to the other man.  Catching him off guard as he grabbed an arm and spun him around to face Raditz with Vegeta at his back, watching everything calmly.

“I said get your ass out of our spot, Cunber!”

The two long-haired, wild-eyed men squared off.  Raditz’s dark eyes bored into the ruby red ones of Cunber.  The intensity held for a moment… Cunber, slightly larger and more muscular than Raditz and definitely even more so than Vegeta, the distinctly smaller of the three, weighing his odds in a direct fight, but… his red eyes flitted to Vegeta waiting quietly behind his friend.  If Vegeta joined in, which was another well-known fact of the streets that Vegeta was a far better brawler than any of them out here short of the gang that hung out on Frieza Cold’s pay, the fight would most assuredly not go in Cunber’s favor.

The older, bigger man closed his eyes for a moment, letting all the intensity slip from his tightened shoulders.  Then he flicked a hand up to casually flip some of his hair back over his shoulder so the tips of all of it once again brushed against the back of his thighs through his baggy, denim blue pants.

“Really, come on, Raditz.  Everything is fine.  No need to be such a dick.”  With a shrug of his burly shoulders, flexing his deep red, tank top over his rippling body, Cunber turned on his dirty, white boots and began walking away with his hands in his pockets.

“You wish your dick were as big as mine.”  Raditz mocked to the other man’s retreating back.  But left it at that.  He turned back around to Vegeta, who had since taken up position against the pole of the streetlight.  Leaning his back against it, one of his legs hiked up so that the flat of his booted foot pressed against the cold metal, and his arms crossed over his chest.  His head was lowered with his eyes closed.  Raditz smirked at the sight; that was Vegeta’s thing when the night was getting started, some sort of meditation.  Well, Raditz doubted meditation was what it was really all about, more like looking more of the part of the aloof bad boy.  It was blatantly eye catching when all the rest of them approached vehicles asking if anyone wanted a good time and Vegeta, the Prince of Saiyan Boulevard, stood back, leaning nonchalantly like he didn’t give a flying shit about whoever was in the car, like he didn’t have the time for them, and saying nothing but exuding this magnetism that immediately got a chick’s eye.  His impressive body kept the eye on him and he usually ended up winning the bid for attention and thus earned the money that they all had been vying for.

Raditz shrugged it off and began to casually pass between Vegeta’s streetlight and his own selected one a handful or so of feet away.  Both men keeping their attentions on the street.  Waiting for their first job of the night.

*                      *                      *

Bulma struggled to stay straight as she glanced out her window for about the billionth time.  She’d had to roll the damn thing down to see out in the first place.  It was tinted!  Not as dark as the rear windows, but still, far darker than Bulma felt comfortable with.  It was clear that either Launch didn’t take this thing out at night or she had one hell of a chauffeur.  And Bulma knew for a fact that Launch didn’t have anyone driver her or her husband Tien around.  So, this thing really didn’t see any nights on the town.  Typical.  Like the party thrown in Bulma’s honor, it was pretty much all for show.  A glamorous party that was thrown well early in the day.  An expensive sportscar that was only taken out during the day.  Everything was meant to be seen.  And to be seen with Launch.  She was, in every sense of the phrase, a clout chaser.  Riding Bulma Briefs’, famous owner and CEO of Briefs Enterprises, coattails to whatever heights Bulma chose to ascend to.  And right now Bulma was ascending to the heights of a five billion zeni business deal.  The party had been to more formally introduce Bulma to Satan City society and its business elite.  And to show how close to all of that Launch was.

And Bulma hated all that crap.

And she hated even more that she’d stormed out of there without really knowing where the hell she was going.  Well, not true.  Exactly.  She knew she was heading back to her hotel.  What she didn’t know was how to actually get there and getting down of that Kami damn hill that Launch and Tien lived on had been ridiculously confusing and irritating and infuriating.  As if her boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend ditching in her during one of the most important business deals of her career and life hadn’t done that already, her ire just kept building.  And being lost in fucking Satan City didn’t help!

The light turned green and Bulma hit the gas.  Speeding forward.  But just as quickly as she started, she eased her foot off the gas, slowed the vehicle down, and pulled off to the side of the road near a rather rundown looking shack of a… well, she supposed someone could live there.  She certainly wouldn’t have thought so, but then again she’d thought that about ever house she’d seen in the clearly deeper parts of the city she’d driven into.  At least there was an old man bald man sitting outside of it.  He was wearing glasses in the middle of the night, although she was trying to figure that he was possibly blind to explain that, but what was really disconcerting to her was the fact that he was sitting on the front stoop of the ramshackle place talking to a big stuffed gorilla and a much smaller stuffed cricket.  Fully prepared to pull that hell away as fast as she could just in case, Bulma leaned her head out the window and called.

“Excuse me,” she caught the man’s attention, “do you know which way to the Satan City Grand Hotel?”

The guy laughed at her.  Really laughed.  Like she’d just told him the best joke ever.  For a moment she feared that he was going to either fall of his stoop or have a heart attack or both he was laughing so hard.

“Um,” she began again.  But he cut her off.

“That’s funny!  That’s really funny!  You think the Grand is around here!”  He burst out into raucous laughter all over again.

Bulma rolled her eyes and pulled back out onto the road.  Speeding away from the sarcastic, old jerk.

*                      *                      *

“Shit, this night is slow!”  Raditz exclaimed.  Pacing like an anxious cat between the two lampposts now.

It’d been a little over an hour and neither he nor Vegeta had gotten a single interested person.  No one.  Nothing.  It was looking like they were going to have to work well into the morning.  Or perhaps not even go home at all and just find someplace to hide out from Paragus till the next night started and work that one as well before heading back.  Either way, neither one of them could afford to return to their apartment without the rent Paragus would be demanding from them as soon as they stepped foot on the premises.

Vegeta couldn’t help but scowl.  Last night had been slow too.  This was not good.  He didn’t relish the idea of having to find a place to sleep in the park, again.  He’d been busted enough for prostitution.  He’d didn’t need to start developing an extended rap sheet for loitering.  Gods damn it, that was all he needed.  This was all he needed.  He gritted his teeth.  Exposing them and his canines to the cold night air.  Fuck!

The revving of the engine was the first thing to reach their ears.  Both men perked up, turned, and looked back at the intersection they were stationed right next to.  The yellow sportscar came tearing around the corner.  Fast.  Suddenly it hit the brakes.  Stopping with an almighty screech ten feet further down the street than Raditz was stationed.  Both men stared.

“Holy shit,” Raditz gasped, “Is that… I mean…  Is that really the new Aston Martin Vantage?!”

Vegeta nodded.  “I believe so.”  Although he really couldn’t believe his eyes.

All elegant, fast lines like a predator on the hunt.  The color of pale honey blonde that seemed every bit the hair color of the wholesome girl next door.

“Looks like someone is definitely slumming it tonight, huh?”  Raditz said.

Vegeta nodded.  Definitely.  You don’t drive a car like that around here.

Vegeta pushed himself off his post and stepped up beside his friend and roommate.  They watched the car for a moment.  Expecting it to drive away.

But it wasn’t.

Was the driver waiting?  For one of them?  Really?  Was this happening?

“You should be the one to go over to it.”  Raditz finally spoke up, not the only one to sense the opportunity.  “You know the fancier types like you best.”

Vegeta nodded.  He began to approach the most expensive thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Come on!”  Raditz called after him.  “Work it!  We need it!”

Vegeta’s jaw set, he walked up to the passenger’s side door then leaned down to look in through the lowered window.  It was a woman.  Looking out her window.  Vegeta watched and waited, reflecting the hunter in the wild aspect that this car was famed to exude and with a devious smirk on his lips that seemed to drive women wild.

Suddenly she turned to him.

“Do you know which way to the fucking Grand!  For fuck’s sake, why is this hotel so damn hard to find!”

He gaped at her.  Yeah, he hadn’t expected that.  So she wasn’t looking for a good time…  But that didn’t mean she didn’t need something from him.  And that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to get his money’s worth for it either.

His hunter’s smirk slipped back on his face, he answered, “Twenty zeni and I’ll tell you.”

Her head snapped from its aggravated search to stare at him.  He held her gaze cockily… swayed his hips lazily…

“Tch,” she scoffed, rolled her eyes, and looked away from him again.  “Steep price,” she dismissed.

His smirked died, “With a ride like this, you can afford it.”

“It’s not my car.”  She kept looking everywhere but at him.  Searching for any semblance of… well, anything even remotely resembling what the word ‘grand’ would mean.

Okay then, so that’s the name of her game.  He grinned, sensing another opportunity, “Well, then, your husband can afford it.”

“Not my husband’s.  I’m not married.  It’s my friend’s car.”  Bulma’s frustrations were on a knife’s edge.  She wanted to start punching the steering wheel.

“Well, your friend,” she rolled her eyes with an audible groan at his lewd purring again, “can certainly afford it if he—”

“She,” she interrupted.  Giving it one last go at looking around for any landmarks to guide her.

Vegeta’s eyebrow quirked.  Oh, so that was it.  She wasn’t interested in men.  Lesbian.  Okay.  So he wasn’t going to get lucky tonight.  Just directions it is.  But… he could still turn this to his advantage.  This little discussion won’t be a total loss.

“Fifty zeni,” he began, drawing her eyes back to him, “and I could show you.”

“And why would I need you to show me?”

Wow, she certainly is a snippy thing.

“Because you drive this thing like shit.”

“And you could do better?”

“Probably anyone could do better than you.  Don’t you know how to drive?”

“That’s what I hire other people to do for me.”

“So what’s your problem then?  You’re ‘hiring’ me to drive you back to your hotel.”

Bulma’s lips pursed together as his eyes stayed fixed on her.  His smirk was gone, the swaying of his hips had long since stopped; he was like her, pure businessman.  Well, at least that she could deal with.

“Fine.  Fifty zeni.”  She sighed then opened then driver’s side door.

Vegeta expected her to get out, but instead she simply unbuckled herself, slid over the center paneling, and into the passenger’s seat.  She met him face to face.  And he had to say in the better lighting of the streetlight, she was absolutely gorgeous.  He’d seen beautiful women before, but this, she was in a different league than what normally came down here to him.  She had exotically colored teal hair pulled into a tight bun high up on the back of her head.  Her bangs hung like elegant tendrils to frame her face in teal, setting off the extraordinary sapphire blue of her eyes and the smooth porcelain of her skin.  Her lips were unmarred by lipstick and seemed naturally stained a strawberry pink the shade of candy floss.  Wow, Vegeta thought, just… wow.

“Get in, Homeboy, and show me what you got.”

Normally that was an invitation for him to get in the car, undo his pants, and slip his dick out for his customer’s viewing pleasure.  This time though, the pleasure was all his.

“Buckle up, Woman.”  He purred at her.

She rolled her eyes with an annoyed groan again.  “Just get in.”

He straightened up and walked around the front of the car.  Again, if it were his normal night, that saying had a completely different meaning.  As he prepared to slip down into the driver’s seat, he gave Raditz a nod.  Raditz grinned.  Hooting.  This time it was Vegeta’s turn to roll his eyes with an annoyed groan.  Really, sometimes his friend could be such a dumbass.

Vegeta shut the car door beside him and suddenly froze.  Everything around him was covered in black suede rather than the smooth, semi-glossy leather interior he was expecting.  Somehow the suede made it look even more luxurious and expensive than he’d been expecting and he’d been expecting a lot of ostentation.

The click beside him snapped him out of his reverie, “Well?”  She was looking at him, crossing her arms over her chest and leveling him with an aggravated look.  Apparently he was wasting her time.

Vegeta reached over beside him and pulled the seatbelt over him.  He clicked it into place then wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel.  His dark eyes slipped over to look at her from the corner of his eyes.

“Did you have any idea what you were doing with a machine like this?”

“Yes, going fast.”  She was staring straight ahead.  Clearly waiting for him to get a move on.

“No, you weren’t.”

Her eyes slipped to him.  Still waiting, but for something else this time.  His explanation.

“Want to really open her up and see what she can do in the right hands?”

“I thought you were taking me to the Satan City Grand Hotel.”

“I am and who says we can’t have any fun on the way.”

“What do you mean?”

He reached underneath for where the seat latch normally was in a car.  A latch he was very familiar with.  He found it and pulled.  His legs pushing the seat all the way back.  She gaped at him and he smirked, relishing her shock.  He slapped his thighs.  Her perfectly coifed, teal eyebrows rose.

“Sit here.”

“What?”  She nearly squeaked.

He unclicked the seatbelt and held it open like he was offering to share a blanket with her.  He slapped his thigh again.

“Come on.”

Her mouth moved, but no words came out.  She was stunned speechless.

“Trust me, you can afford to have a little fun.”

He patted his thigh this time.

She glanced around.  Looking like she was about to get caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.  Technically she was right.  But—

She undid her seatbelt and slipped awkwardly into his lap.  With a few shifts, she nestled her business skirt-clad buttocks between his thighs.  He appreciated the way her ass felt; Gods, she had a perfect ass too.  Gods damn.  He pulled the belt over the two of them and snapped it into place.

He reached down and pulled the latch again.  His legs flexing.  Suddenly jolting them forward.  A little yelp of surprise escaped her lips.  Still smirking, Vegeta strategically nestled his chin over her shoulder, beside her ear.  He slipped his arms around her to take hold of the steering wheel again.  Maneuvered his legs on either side of her own, bringing them in tight to hers, and placing the top half of his boots on the pedals.

He angled his lips closer to the shell of her ear, “Hold on.”  His gravelly, velvety voice husked.

He felt a slight tremble tremor through her body.  Saw in the rear-view mirror that she was biting her lower lip in a way that told him it wasn’t often that she did anything that made her unsure of herself.  Devilishly, he bucked his hips into her tight ass a little.  Prodding her in a way.  He wasn’t hard, but there was still time.

“Grab the wheel.”  He whispered.  Letting his breathe ghost over her earlobe.

He was rewarded when she shuddered.  And rewarded again when the shiver of her body caused her bottom to rub against his crotch.  He felt himself respond to her like he hadn’t responded to a woman in years.  He fought the groan that he’d suddenly caught in his throat.  He looked down and watched her arms slowly reach out for the steering wheel.  Her fingers wrapped around the wheel and he wondered what else they could wrap around.  He blinked away the thought, thoughts he hadn’t had in years.

“Good girl,” he purred, continuing to keep up his act.  Although it was quickly becoming less of an act.

“Woman.”  Her voice was low and its own brand of husky.

“What?”

“I’m a woman.”  She turned her head and their eyes met again.

Gods damn, yes, you are.

“Good Woman.”  He breathed.

She bit her lip again, turning to back to stare straight ahead.

Over her shoulder, Vegeta grinned.  Not lesbian.  If you were into women, you didn’t look at him like that.  Or bite your lip like that.  Or shudder like that.  So this was her friend’s car.  He didn’t know how she got a hold of this from her friend and he didn’t care, like he’d thought, this discussion hadn’t been a total loss.  No loss at all.  So far he’d earned fifty zeni.  And by the end of the ride, he anticipated earning a whole lot more.  After all, she already had a hotel room waiting for her.  So what if maybe she had a guest with her?

With the brake still in place, Vegeta revved the engine.  Feeling the sheer, unadulterated power of it vibrate all around them.  A wild beast rearing to be set free, to be unleashed by the light of full moon in the night sky above.  Who was he to deny a beast its prowl?  All at once, he released the brake, turning the wheel.  The Vantage screamed away from his street corner and went flying into the night.  It’s might roaring off the facades of the buildings on either side of the street.  Her screams of fear transforming into roars of laughter.  Vegeta, for the first time in years, roared with laughter as well.  This was going to be fun.

Chapter Text

She felt the gusts trying desperately to yank chunks of her hair loose from the tight bun she had it in.  It successfully whipped her bangs around her face.  Covering her eyes momentarily and sending a thrill through her like she was on a rollercoaster blind.  He turned the wheel expertly.  Taking her along for the ride.  Literally.  She learned quickly to not even dare to fight his movements.  Any resistance could throw off his aim and they might crash.

She suddenly jolted as he shifted gears.  Her back bumping not for the first time into his chest.  His whole body was thrumming, tense, tight.  He was as intense as the vehicle itself.  She could feel it in the powerful thighs clenching on either side of her hips.  The quick, sure movements that were ever so subtle.  Mere flicks of the wrists or elbows and the Aston Martin obeyed him like a thoroughly broke in stallion called to heel.

Suddenly he sent them into a spin.

Bulma hung onto the wheel for dear life.  Screaming.  She was screaming.  The Vantage was screaming.  As it flew in an elegant and perfect arc around the corner of the greenlit intersection.

It finally came to a stop.  Right at the curb in front of the golden-framed doors of the Satan City Grand Hotel.

Bulma Briefs panted for air.  And so did the man she was seated in the lap of.  They’re bodies trembling with the aftereffects of the adrenaline continuing to pump through their veins.  She glanced beside her.  His eyes met hers and held her gaze.  He was grinning as he panted.  His face, naturally intense, now looking so devilish and… enticing.  She’d noticed it before when his look was so attractively intense that she’d inadvertently bit her lip and she had to look away.  It was one of the reasons she was looking at him again; Bulma Briefs didn’t back down from anything, not anymore.

His smile slid into a smirk, “We’re here.”

She laughed airly.  She felt lightheaded as he reached down and unbuckled the seatbelt.  She took that as her cue, she turned to the door and opened it.

Bulma climbed out first then turned and held the door open for him to exit, bringing the keys with him.  He dangled them out to her as he straightened.  She smiled at him.  Finally taking the keys before gesturing for him to step aside and closed the door.  She turned and he followed her around the front of the car, his eyes taking in one last long, analyzing gaze at the once in a lifetime opportunity he’d taken.  It really was a beautiful, fantastic machine.  Now that, that was what dreams were made of.  Vegeta made a mental note to tease Raditz endlessly with his recounts of the thrilling ride tomorrow morning after he came home with the month’s rent and perhaps so money for more ramen.  Even if this woman didn’t want him for a few hours, he was certainly in a better neighborhood, a more active one.  More people meant more business opportunities; it also meant more chances that he might accidentally rung into the cops, but he was willing to take that chance.  Frankly, the idea of being homeless again was making him desperate.

The jingling of metal on a small round clip brought his attention back to the woman just in time to see her toss them to a uniformed valet.

“Make sure you park it nice in the spot reserved for the penthouse suite.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  The young valet nodded eagerly.  His grin wide, his focus on the car.

Vegeta couldn’t begrudge him that.

Then she turned to him.  It was only then that Vegeta had realized that they were up on the sidewalk now.  While the valet was too distracted drooling over the car while getting inside it and driving off, the woman reached inside her suit jacket and withdrew her pocketbook.  Vegeta fought the urge to frown, he’d been hoping…  Well, like he told himself, it was a more active neighborhood.  She opened it and he watched her red-painted fingernails partition off a single bill.  She held it out to him.  His fifty zeni.

“You were right,” she said, “I can afford to have a little fun.”

He took the money and nodded at her.

“Have a nice night,” he said, “Enjoy your stay at the Grand.”

Vegeta turned and began walking away.  Bulma turned as well, heading for the twin doors of the entrance to her hotel… as soon as the toe of one red pumps landed on the red carpet leading to the doors, she stopped.

Paused.

Her heart was still racing.  For the first time since coming to this city to carry out the biggest business deal of her life, she’d laughed.  She’d smiled.  Genuinely, not faking it just to placate some part of the machinations of working out this deal.  For the first time since coming to Satan City, she’d had fun.  She glanced over to her right.  Watching the man responsible for that fun walk up to the intersection and push the button to signal that he wanted to cross the street.  Her eyes traced down the short spikes of blonde hair, she really didn’t like that part, but… as her blue eyes traveled further down, his back… definitely his ass… legs.  He was a living monument to the Greek Gods themselves.  Statues had nothing on the incredible piece of art he was.  Her eyes flitted down to the leather clutch still in her hand… then returned to his back.  The corners of her mouth lifted.

 

Vegeta stood waiting for the light to change.  Up the street, he saw another nightclub in full swing.  He wouldn’t be able to get in like he did with Club Frieza, but he should have no problem picking up someone, anyone on the outside.  He slipped the fifty into his pocket, hearing his stomach growl, begging him to spend just a little of it on something to eat, but he set the thought aside.  Rent first, food later.  He reminded himself yet again, a package of ramen at the bodega near his apartment was just a quarter right now.  Four packs for a zeni.  He could swing that.  He just had to wait, work and wait.

“Ahem.”

He turned.  She was there again.  Waiting just behind him… with her pocketbook still out.

He didn’t hide how blatantly he eyed it before looking up to meeting her eyes.  He didn’t hide the blatant smirk of victory that spread his lips.

“You’re still right.  I can afford to have a little more fun.  Care to join me up in my suite?  If you’re not otherwise engaged.”

“Lead the way.”

Her grin was infectious.  She turned on her red heels and led him back to the doors of the Satan City Grand Hotel.

Chapter Text

“Wow.”  Vegeta suddenly spoke up.  He’d… he’d never been in a place as fancy as this one before.  It was clear, he was out place and he was suddenly in a completely different league.

He looked up… and up… and up… and up.  Shit, the lobby stretched up so many levels, he lost count of them.  They all seemed to blur together.  His eyes returned to the main level.  Everything was white marble streaked with buttery cream and accented with gold and rich oak.  The only other colors were the carpets that ran along the halls that heading in each of the cardinal directions with smaller rugs stationed in front of certain tall desks, they were the color of bright red.  The pillars he recognized as Grecian, magnificently tall Ionic order columns capped with golden capitals and grounded with golden platforms.  Drawing his eyes both up and down.  He gazed down at the highly polished tiles beneath the velvety carpet underneath his feet.  He half expected to see Caesar come out from behind one and give him a thumbs up, the old Roman signal for execution in the grand arena that was a coliseum.  There was an echoing clack drawing his attention to up to a pair of red heels.  It had been her heels clacking on the spare space between a carpet runner and the rug in front of the concierge desk where a woman wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt stood.  She had a golden name tag, but he couldn’t see it.  His eyes were straying again, looking around him… at the eyes that were looking him up and down.  Not for the first time in his life, Vegeta felt…

He didn’t belong here.

“Please, have a magnum of champagne and a bowl of strawberries sent up to the penthouse.”  The woman ordered.

“Yes, Miss.  Immediately.”

“Good.”

She once again turned on her heels and headed for another hall.  Vegeta followed her.  And caught the look the concierge was giving him.  His wonder turned to a scowl.  He turned his head.  Kept it straight ahead.  On the woman’s back.

Anger started to burn in him.  He didn’t know why…  No, that wasn’t true, he knew exactly why.  Just because he didn’t have conventional job or a conventional home or in any sense of the term led a conventional life, he wasn’t ‘less than’.  And that’s what they were looking at him like, like he was less than them.  Less than all of them.  Like something as grubby as him was dirtying their precious lives.  His gloves flexed around his knuckles as he clenched his fists by his sides.  He hated being dismissed, but what he hated even more was being treated like he was… worthless.

Bulma stepped past the couple standing there and pressed the ‘up’ button anew to summon another elevator car.  She stepped back and glanced beside her to see her ‘guest’.  He was staring down the other couple.  She followed the path of his gaze, but it wasn’t like she really had to.  The other man was actually sneering at him in utter disgust.  Bulma felt her eyes narrow dangerously at the man and his wife that was eyeing Bulma like she was—

“Oh look, Honey,” her guest’s voice dripped with sarcasm as saccharine as the substance he’d just referred to her as.  She looked over at him.  She watched as he reached down, somehow managed to grab some of his tank although she couldn’t figure out how with how skintight the damn thing was on him, and pulled.  Slowly.  Bulma and the other woman’s mouths fell open as wine red cloth slipped and slithered upward and revealed luscious caramel abs finely cut and etched.  “I seem to have spilt something on my shirt.”

Bulma’s eyes widened as she realized she was drooling.

“Whatever shall I do?”  Her guest teased mercilessly.  “Maybe…,” he purred, letting the word linger in the air sumptuously, “lick it off.”

Ding.

The elevator doors opened and out stepped a small, uniformed, young man.  He looked even more like a child when he took one look at them all.  Bulma and the other woman were agape and the other man looked like he could absolutely kill as did Vegeta.

“Uh, um, going… up?”  He asked timidly.

Vegeta let go of his tank, gave the other man on last glare, before entering the elevator.

“Oh, look, a bench,” he announced loudly.

Bulma and the couple neared the door, peering in at him.  He turned back to face them and flopped back on the bench.  He brought up on leg, bending it, and effectively looking as if he was taking up most of the space on it.  He rested his elbow on his upraised knee.  Suddenly he smirked.

“Looks like it’s meant for two.”  His other hand, the one that had grabbed his shirt mere seconds ago, reached down and rested its grasp over his crotch.  Giving himself a tight squeeze.

The other man’s jaw dropped.  Their elevator boy’s eyes bugged.

Then Vegeta’s eyes met hers.  Bulma glanced on either side of her…  Oh.

She snapped her mouth shut, straightened up, and said, “It’s his first time in an elevator.”

Bulma quietly walked into the elevator, stepped up to the empty space of bench left, but didn’t sit down.  She turned and faced the opened doors instead.  She sought out their bellboy’s eyes and gave him a stern look and a curt nod.  Just like she expected, he snapped out of it and snapped to it.  He practically jumped back into the elevator car.  He quickly turned his back on them.

“Which floor, Miss?”

“Penthouse.”  Bulma answered.

“Yes, Miss.”

He reached over and pressed the uppermost button.  The doors slid closed and the car began to ascend.

Vegeta didn’t even feel it begin to move it was so… what he expected of a ritzy place like this.  Of course, not even the elevator’s squeaked unless they were supposed to and definitely no rough or bumpy trips up or down, that would be too unseemly for the clientele.  He looked up at her profile.  Clientele like her.  The woman who wasn’t looking at him… his brows knit together, the woman who was intentionally not looking at him.

Oh shit, had he just screwed this up?

Quietly, Vegeta stood up.  He tucked his tank top back in as best as he could.  He glanced at her again.

He caught her watching him out of the corner of her eye.

“Sorry,” he said.  Not a word familiar to him or his mouth, but he needed this money.  Tonight.  “I just can’t help myself.”  He didn’t add that he couldn’t help himself when people looked at him that way.

“Well, try.”  She said, finally looking at him.  But the smirk on her own lips belied the seriousness of her tone.

He smirked back at her.  She grinned mischievously then they both faced the doors.  Waiting to reach the top.

*                      *                      *

The door made the softest click Vegeta had ever heard a hotel door make when it’s keycard was slipped into the slot and the lock released.  The Woman pushed open the door and led the way inside.  Vegeta’s eyes widened as he walked in and stopped short.  He gaped as the door silently shut behind him.  She so casually strode over to the desk, an actual great big oak desk!  As ornately carved as anything downstairs, actually more elaborately carved.  Most likely to show the prestige that was this place’s penthouse suite.  It’s ultimate and grandest room.

All around him where creamy ivory colored walls, a bright red carpet that might have looked gawdy or out of place, but given the lobby was totally in keeping with the décor of the hotel itself.  Greek or Roman opulence was definitely the theme; the people staying here weren’t expected to feel like kings or queens, but emperors and empresses.  Not leaders of a realm, but rulers of the world.  Which, Vegeta guessed, they technically were.  The super wealthy always ruled all.  And apparently for the moment, he was going to have a little taste of that ruling class; no longer Prince of Saiyan Boulevard, but Prince of the World, if only for an hour or two.

The room was huge.  He looked off to his right, away from the desk/work area to the private bar.  It was as big as his whole apartment.  He gulped then caught her stepping the few steps down into the main area of the suite in the periphery of his vision.  He followed her.  The main area held a large couch, again overelaborate oak but rather than red, it was ivory velvet.  Expertly tufted and luxuriously accented with ivory throw pillows that were tufted as well and trimmed with antique gold.  Right across from him was a fireplace holding fake wood logs and framed in that ivory and cream marble, capped with that same lavishly carved oak, and trimmed in antique gold and on the wall above it was a large, flat screen television.  A touch of modernity in the Grecian ambience.  She turned right and reascended the three stairs, passing through an opening in the walls decorated with gold-framed works of art depicting images of warrior Rome or Greece or everyday lives of those same Ancient Romans or Greeks.  Again, Vegeta followed her.

He fought for his eyes not to widen all over again as he took in the bedroom she had led him into.  The focal point took up most of the area.  The frankly giant California King bed was four posts of extravagantly carved oak.  The sheets were ivory as expected and most likely of the most lush and sultry Egyptian cotton he’d ever have the privilege to feel on his eventually bare skin.  The comforter was bright red cotton of equal quality and tufted like the couch in the living area outside this room.  The pillows were big and fluffy and he felt like his head might drown in the plush comfort of it.  Off to the left was a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows displaying the grandeur of the city that only those that had the money to look down on it got to see, the clean part, the ‘touristy’ part, not the part of the city Vegeta was from and did business in.  The curtains were antique gold and embroidered with damask, floral and scroll patterns of satin threads of the same color.  The rods, again beautiful oak with ornate finials.

Vegeta turned his head further to the grand oak wardrobe meant to replace a closet sitting against the wall beside him and matched the nightstands on either side of the bed.  He turned his head again, against the far right wall, opposite the windows was a grand chest of drawers for the clothes that required folding and next to that another opening in the wall.  He could see half of the double vanity beyond and the mirror the width of the wall above it.  Once more, oak and ivory and cream marble with antique gold, ornate fixtures.  He had no doubt that what he couldn’t see was blocked by the outlines laid by glass walls, part of the massive shower that was undoubted lined on the other wall by Grecian or Roman designs of ivory and cream marble or stone tiles with antique gold fixtures.  And undoubtedly an equally ornate bathtub in which a massive person could just fill up and soak themselves in like some Ancient Roman private bath.  Yep, this place was by far the most elegant and expensive place he’d ever fucked in.  Okay, he’d enjoy being in the luxury while it lasted… and knew he’d regret whatever his next client of the night would be, probably some cheap ass car that smelled of lemon air freshener trying desperately to cover up the pungent odor of cigarette smoke amidst a floor covered in wadded up fast food wrappers or empty paper coffee cups.  The rest of his night was not going to be anything like this—

Ding dong!

He turned to look at the opening he’d just passed through as she casually took off her suit’s jacket and opened the wardrobe to withdraw the garment’s hanger.

“It’s the door.  Would you get that?”  She asked, hidden from his view by one of the wardrobe’s doors.

Vegeta’s mouth thinned into a line.  He didn’t like being referred to like a servant, but he’d already nearly effed things with the elevator.  He turned and headed back out into the living area; and he supposed that she had bought him… well, they hadn’t discussed that yet, but he was adding all this time to her bill at the end of this… and maybe pad it a little extra for making him act like some sort of butler right now.  A butler that was going to fuck her in just a little bit.

He opened the door just as it’s bell rang again.  The uniformed waiter smiled at him as he pushed in the golden tray cart laden with an overflowing ivory tablecloth and accented with an additional covering of bright red linen.  Vegeta closed the door behind the man as the other seemed to know what he was doing and where he was going.  He still followed the man though and watched him ease the cart to a stop next to the bar.  He watched the man pull the golden lid off a massive bowl of big, deep red strawberries and shift to popping the cork on the bottle of champagne sitting in the golden urn of ice.  He poured two crystal flutes of the pale golden bubbly before turning to Vegeta with a grin on his face.

And continued staring at Vegeta, grinning.

Staring.  Grinning.

Staring.  Grinning.

Vegeta scowled, “What the hell are you looking at?”

The Woman walked back into the room.  Vegeta turned to her, “What the hell is he looking at?”

Calmly, she walked up the steps with her leather checkbook already in her hand.  She opened it and pulled out a twenty zeni bill and handed it to the waiting man.

“Thank you for the service.”  She dismissed.

The man bowed his head as he took the money and palmed the bill.  He wished them a good night before letting himself out and quietly shutting the door behind him.

Vegeta felt his cheeks flush a little.  A tip, the guy had been waiting for his tip.  Shit.  Every time he turned so far in this place he was fucking things up; it was like everything about this place was making it abundantly clear how out of place he was here, how much he didn’t belong here.  The sooner he got this over with, the better.  He’d get his zeni for getting her off and get the hell out of here and back to more familiar and more comfortable territory for him, the street corner.

The Woman turned to him, he caught the smile on her face.  “Make yourself comfortable,” she said as she handed him a crystal flute.

He frowned at it as he took it.  She turned away from him.  With her back turned, he began to down the booze.  She turned back to him, her smile faltering for a moment.  He caught it, but didn’t let it stop him from finishing off his drink.  It was good.  Really fucking good, but he was over this now.  He just wanted to discuss the terms of the next hour, he wasn’t even going to think about a second hour in this high-class hellhole, strip down, fuck this Woman, and get the hell back on the streets.  When he lowered his champagnes glass, she held up the bowl of strawberries to him, offering again and smiling at him again.

He stared at her.

She proffered the bowl again.  Nodding, still smiling.

He continued to stare.

“What?”  His voice edged dangerously close to snapping at her.  He was getting frustrated with this whole scenario, but he still wasn’t stupid enough to screw himself over.  Yet.

“The strawberries make the champagne taste better.”

“Better?...  Really?”

She nodded.

He sighed.  “Look, this is… really… yeah, and all, but I’m… you don’t have to this with me or anything.  I’m a done deal here.  Just pay me, we can do what I’m here to do, then I can leave and you don’t have to—”

“How much for the whole night?”

He stared.  Stunned.  Wait, did I… did I just hear her right?  The whole night?

She met his gaze.  Crossed her arms over her ample chest.  Chin up.  Defiant and confident.

He glanced around the room.  His eyes returned to her.

“What?”

“I’m sensing this money thing means a lot to you.  So how much for the whole night?”

Oh, he got it now.  They were both in their element now.  The art of the business deal.

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest.  Squaring up against her.  While her smile had dimmed to that which could flicker to something far more sinister and dangerous in the face of someone getting the shaft on the other end of whatever business deals she negotiated, he smirked, his own way of knowing he was going to get exactly what he wanted at the end of this discussion.

“You couldn’t afford it.”  He challenged her.

“Try me.”  She countered with barely a gap of time between them.

Vegeta knew she could.  He’d gotten a glance in that pocketbook of hers when she’d opened it to fish out the twenty.  But he hadn’t gotten a look at what all was in there.

“Five hundred zeni.”  That would cover rent for the month.  Whatever Raditz would earn from the night, and he had better be fucking earning, would go to feed them.  Perfect.  If Raditz held up his part of trying to earn his half of the rent without knowing that Vegeta had just negotiated, granted it hadn’t been accepted yet—

“Deal.”  She snapped.

Vegeta fought his eyes bugging out of his skull or letting out a whoop of victory or barking with laughter.  Okay, so yeah, he’d just negotiated getting their rent for the month in one night of work.

“Do you want it now or in the morning?”

“Morning’s fine.”

Afterall, if anything else got tagged onto it, he could renegotiate to account for any ‘additional charges’.

“Good, then make yourself at home.”  She offered him the bowl of strawberries again, he took one.  When she turned to put the bowl back down on the cart, she turned back to him with the bottle of champagne.  He held up his flute to her and she refilled it before putting the bottle back on ice and taking up a strawberry for herself along with the other flute.  She took a bite of berry and a sip of champagne as she made her way past him and back over to her desk, she set down her glass and began to peruse the papers piled on top of it.

Vegeta watched her for a moment before devouring the berry in one massive bite and began chewing as he took another sip of champagne then he turned to look out over the living area once again.  His new domain for the night.  Well, he smirked as he eyed the big ass television, she did say to make himself at home.

 

Her eyes strayed not for the first time to the image of the nearly fifty-year-old martial arts movie… and her eyes strayed yet again to the man lying on the carpeted floor in front of the tv… and his rather tempting, juicy behind.  Seriously, that was criminal.  It was like the most perfect peach in the world.  Despite herself, she licked her lips and was only distracted when his buttocks shook when he laughed; he barked out a condemnation of one of the veiled ninjas fighting abilities against the bare-faced and bare-chested protagonist and she finally noticed the barking in her ear over the phone.

Bulma shook her head and turned slightly away from the view of her guest to the view of the city from the substantial balcony that wrapped around the exterior half of her suite… she turned away from that view as well, finally turning to face wall behind her desk.

“Yes, yes, Launch, whatever.”  She glossed over not paying a single word of attention to one of her attorneys, well, friends.  “When is the meeting scheduled for tomorrow?”

“Ten a.m.”

Bulma nodded, “Good.  I’ll see you then.”

“Wait, wait, wait, how’s my car?”

Bulma rolled her eyes but with a smile on her face, “It’s fine.  Have Adrian drive you here in the morning with the limo and we’ll trade in the parking area.  You’ll go to work in that and I’ll have my limo and driver back.”

“You’re sure it’s fine?  Like there’s nothing wrong with it?”

“I promise you it’s fine.  It flies in the right hands.”  Despite herself again, she turned around to look at her guest that she’d picked up in that vehicle.  She watched his head tilt back as he polished off another glass of champagne, the second large bowl of delicious strawberries gone.  He laughed again.  Her eyes were riveted to a certain part of his anatomy.  Speaking of which… she bit her lower lip again.  “Launch, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her friend was sputtering something, but Bulma was already lowering the phone.  She hung up.  She leaned over and turned the lamp off on her desk.  Now all that lit the room were the main lights and the glow of the television playing the old martial arts movie.  Casually Bulma slipped off her shoes by her desk and silently stepped down into the main living area.  She walked over to the couch and sat down, her eyes on her guest the entire time.

Rather than choosing the side farthest from him, she chose to sit down on the end nearest the television.  And right beside his head, if he cared to turn his head and look over at her.

She sat back contentedly.  Watching his profile.  It was strong and finely etched like the rest of his body if the tightness of his clothes were any indication as well as his exposed arms.  When he smirked… oooh, she felt herself melt.  She smiled at the memory of his smirk when they’d negotiated their deal for the night.  And Bulma had opted for the whole night.  She wasn’t exactly someone who shared and she… she didn’t relish the idea of him standing out there on the street corner waiting for the next driver to come along.  What if that person wasn’t nice?  What if he was forced to do something that he didn’t want to?  Did he even want to do any of this?

The ninja made a poor swing for a chop at the neck, Vegeta let out another peel of laughter as the man’s strike was easily dodged and even more easily countered with a solid kick to the stomach, sending the man reeling backward.  His stagger was so exaggeratedly cheesy especially when he went through a wooden wall and it splintered melodramatically.  Vegeta shook with laughter, shaking his head.  Suddenly he caught teal out of the corner of his eye.  He turned his head, his laughing dying away.

She was there, sitting on the couch.  She must have been watching him, but… the look on her face… why is she frowning?  She wasn’t looking at him, but… still.  Vegeta glanced over at the movie to see one of his all time favorite martial arts heroes square up against a trio of masked ninja then his eyes quickly returned to her.  She was thinking about something.  Something that was souring her mood maybe.  Vegeta reached down and muted the movie.

Abruptly her blue eyes snapped up to meet his black eyes.  He stayed there lying on the floor for a moment.  Just watching each other.  Then he pushed himself up on all fours and turned towards her.  He froze, seeing her brows furrow and that same troubled expression darken her face again.

“What is it?”  He asked, hoping she wasn’t getting cold feet now.  He really, really needed this money.  Otherwise he’d just blown nearly an hour of time that he wouldn’t be able to get back and would make his night that much tougher—

“Don’t crawl like that.  You’re not an animal, you’re a person.”  She answered.

Oh, so that was it.  She was thinking about saving him, rescuing him from this life.  He smirked at her and saw that troubled expression lessen.  Vegeta Prince didn’t need anyone to save him from anything.

In spite of her words, he crawled slowly over to her.  Prowling the path between the two of them.  Letting each movement shift muscle groups languidly like a big cat sauntering over to pray.  Not quite pouncing, not quite needing to to claim its prize.

She fought to remain still.  He explicitly disobeyed her.  No one had ever done that before.  He was still on all fours, crawling to her.  It was… Kami damn it, he was smirking the entire—she nearly gulped.  Nearly jumped out of her skin.  He was right there at her knees.  One hand reached up from the floor to rest on the couch edge right next to her knee.  Then the other hand came up to rest right beside her other knee.  He reared up.  Straightening.  His eyes never leaving hers for a second.  She breathed shallowly.  Slowly he removed his hands from either side of her and went to his bolero vest.  He took hold of it and slowly rolled his shoulders as he slipped it from his shoulders.  Her pulse quickened.  Her own private stripe show.  He let it fall on the floor behind him.  Dropping from his arms with a soft thump.

When his hands went to his stomach, she audibly gasped.  His smirk darkened, deepened.  Reflexively, he clutched the wine fabric in his hands.  He pulled.  The wine-colored fabric slithering free of his waistband as easily as a snake moving across the dunes of a desert sea.  Revealing Adonis abs sculpted by Kami himself in the most luscious shade of sun-bronzed caramel she’d ever seen in her life.  Her teeth’s hold on her lower lip loosened.  Her lip popped free.

Holy shit was that sexy, Vegeta licked his lips at the sight of her semi-swollen lip.  He crossed his arms over his chest and pulled his tank up and over his head, careful of his blonde wig of short spikey hair.  It was important to him to maintain the image he’d carefully crafted over the years of what the clientele liked to partake of.  He wasn’t about to suddenly lose that now, not when his rent was on the line and she was already a bit on the anxious side.  He lowered his arms and dropped his shirt on the floor beside him.

Bulma watched the slinky fabric fall.  Finding it harder to keep her breathing under control.  Then his hands landed on her knees.  Her eyes snapped up to meet his.  She lost herself in them for a moment.  Their dark depths were so intense.  More than even in her own.  Suddenly she felt her knees slowly shifting apart.  Oh Kami… she breathed.

He slipped in between her knees.  Pressed his lower body against the front of the couch.  He loomed over her.

Then he leaned forward.

Her knees squeezing against his hips tighter and tighter as every inch of his warm body seared its way onto her own as he slowly laid himself down on top of her.

Despite herself, she let out a whimper.  A needy sound for the man between her legs.  She felt her core clench.  Knew she was wet for him already.  His ripped stomach laid over hers, he leaned back a little.  He paused.  She suddenly realized that she was panting.  Her lips were closed, but she was panting.  And worst yet, since he was laying on her, he knew she was panting too.  He knew already how her body was reacting to him.  Kami damn—her eyes shot wide open.

His hands caress up her from her knees… his fingertips brushing as light as a breeze up her bare thighs until the fabric of her slightly raised skirt stole his featherlight touch from her skin.  She nearly cursed her own clothes for that.  But his touch firmed on her body to compensate for lack of skin-to-skin contact.  His fingers traced their individual paths up over her hips…  Suddenly he grabbed her hips and pulled.  Her legs spread wider to compensate for his immovable wall of muscle.  Skirt hiked higher.  And her core hit his bulge.  She gasped, moaned hedonistically.  He was erect.  Full.  Stiff.  Big.  She felt her core flutter and clench again.  Knew she was impossibly wet.

They were face to face now.  Noses an inch apart.

All she could see were his eyes.  His face.  Minutes in and she was already a lost cause.  Five hundred zeni, she’d pay a lot more than that for this.  Any of this.

Her shoulders flexed beneath her hands.  When had she reached up and latched onto his shoulders?  When he pulled her down the couch to him?  She felt his hands on her chest.  Her back arched.  Lifting her chest to meet his hands.  Her eyes became half-lidded, rheumy with lust as she felt his manhood twitch against her core at her gesture.  Suddenly she realized that he was panting too.  His lips were closed as well, but he was still panting.

She felt him cup her breasts a little as his hands shifted over her ample chest so his fingers could find the first of her blouses’ buttons.  He undid the first one, focused on it.  While her eyes stayed on his own.  He careful undid another button.  Then another before his eyes could return to hers.

“What do you want?”  His voice was low and husky.  Betraying his own body’s want and desires through velvet-covered gravel.  And, she dared, she detected a little hope in his tone.

“What do you do?”  She husked back.  Hiking her knees just a little bit higher up his hips to add to their new negotiation.  She wasn’t above playing dirty.  Very.  Very.  Dirty.

His cock twitched hard.  Unmistakably.  This time it was her turn to smirk and his brows to furrow.

“Everything,” he growled and it made her damn well soaked, “Except…,” her breath caught in her throat, “I don’t kiss on the mouth.”

“Neither do I,” she whispered, relieved.

“Good,” he purred then he tilted his head, leaned in just a little closer, and lowered.

His lips were scalding hot on her newly exposed collarbone.  She looked to the heavens and moaned as if she were soaking in a hot tub after a long days’ stressful work rather than about to be soaking in a strange man’s cum.  She didn’t care.  This felt… she needed a night like this.

Her hold on his shoulders tightened as his lips lifted from her skin and traveled further down her body.  She felt his hot breath on the top of one of her breasts before she felt his lips meet her pillowy soft flesh and pucker it.  Sucking some of her skin in between his gently puckered lips.  She closed her eyes and sighed her moan.  Bathing in his heat and the heat he was building in her.  The he kissed where her nipple perked inside the confines of her white, cotton bra.  He kissed over the padded fabric.  His hot breath turning the bra cup into an inferno.  Then he kissed the span of fabric between her breasts.  Then the top of her stomach.  His hands pulled her shirt fully apart.  His palms finding her sides and slipping back down over her hips, playing catchup to his lips.

His hands moved faster than his mouth.  They found the bottom hem of her skirt and pushed it up higher.  Her stomach fluttered as her core tightened and her knees rose higher up over his hips.  His pants-covered cock pulled away from her as he shifted the rest of his body away from her.

She opened her eyes and looked down her body at him.

With her skirt now pushed up around her waist, his fingers shifted attention to her black lace thong.  He took the flimsy straps between his fingertips and pulled.  His lips left her, he lifted up from her just enough to slip the thin strands easily from her hips.  She lifted her hips so he could pull her panties free of her ass.  The deep bass growl that left him when he took a deep inhale of the raised dish she was offering him again rattled her entire body.  She lowered her hips, taking away his offering, and she saw the nearly feral glare he gave her teal-haired pussy.  He pulled her underwear over her legs, over her knees, and down.  She felt the straps slip free of her feet and in the next instant his shoulders were pressed against her inner thighs.  She mewled pitifully as his breath branded her pussy with its fire.  Her nails pushed into his skin as his hands pushed on her inner thighs, spreading her wider for him.  Pulling her folds apart.  Revealing him the glistening oasis of her womanhood.  And the engorged pearl hidden inside.

He licked his lips staring at it.  She trembled.  His mouth descended.  She flung her head back into the cushions.  Crying out as his tongue lathed her.  His tip tasting from the bottom to her engorged top.  Her nails bit into his flesh.  He licked her pussy again.  Then again.  This time his tongue swirling around her swollen clit.  Her knees jumped.  Quickly he flung her legs over his shoulders.  Forcing her hands to grip the cushions as he licked her pussy again.  His tongue finishing with another swirling tour of her clitoris before his lips closed over it and he suckled her clit.

Fuck!”  She screamed.  Back arching violently.  Eyes squeezed tight.

He held her hips.  Mouth not letting her clit go.  She writhed.  When she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, when her cries bordered on sobs, his mouth released her clit.  His tongue lapping up the juices he’d gotten her to make.  Her hands flew to his golden hair.  It was coarse and harsh feeling against her fingertips, she hated it, but she didn’t let it stop her from clutching his head.  Her hips working with the flicking and licking of his tongue as she ground his face into her core.  His tongue pierced her.

Hnngh!!”  She cried out.

He devoured her.  Inside and out.  His tongue diving into her and curling.  His tip just barely touching the outskirts of the wonderful spot inside her.  Once.  Twice.  Over and over.  Trying to get at her.  Before retreating and savoring her pearl again.  He sucked again and her body finally broke. 

Her back snapped her back fiercely.  Her legs shook and trembled on either side of his head.

HAA!!”  She wailed.  Cumming.

He suckled her into weakness.  Her body easing into twitches.  Before his mouth released her clit and his tongue went to work lapping up it’s freshly leaked meal.  Sticky and sweet and delicious.  She sobbed as his tongue penetrated her again and licked her clean.  Taking his fill of her pussy in every way that he could.  Except…

He straightened up, her legs falling from his shoulders.  Her eyes partially opened.  He was licking his mouth clean like a big cat after a kill.  He’d laid her to waste.

Then her eyes widened as he slipped his gloves off and tossed them to the floor.  He stood up and began unbuckling his belt.

More?!  There was more?!  She should have known.  She had bought him for the whole night.  So far all he’d done was made her cum on the couch with his tongue.  She sat up on her elbows as he bent over and pulled off one boot then the other, discarding both.

Their eyes met again as he unbuttoned his tight pants, took the zipper pull between his fingers, and dragged it slowly down over his erect bulge.  Pulling his fly open, revealing the black underwear underneath.  He took his waistband in hand and rolled it down his body.  She gulped, he was wearing a black thong too.  Kami help her!  He abandoned his skintight pants as a pool around his ankles.  He straightened up again.  Somehow with a handful of gold foil squares in his hand.  Condoms.  More than one.  Her eyes went from his hand to his eyes as he carefully stepped out of his pants.  Leaving them on the floor.  He stepped into the space between her legs his upper body had previously occupied.

All of a sudden he bent down, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted.  Instinctively Bulma wrapped her legs around his waist, his clothed erection once again pressing against her wet core; her arms around his shoulders.  He cupped her bare ass with both hands.  She felt the cold, sharp edges of the gold foil-wrapped condoms prickling her buttocks.  It sent chills up her spine.  He turned with her in his arms and carried her off into the bedroom.

As soon as they crossed the opened threshold, his face buried itself in her neck.  This close, she could smell her cum on his face as his mouth and tongue kissed her neck.  She held him close, gasping for air as he licked and kissed up and down her pulse.  Driving it and her wild.

Before she knew it, he was tilting her over.  Her back hit plush comfort.  It was like a starter’s pistol firing.  Their hands worked furiously to undo her pushed up skirt.  As he yanked it from her hips and off her body, she shimmied out of her opened blouse.  She tossed it away as he flung her skirt somewhere.  She arched her back again, reaching underneath, and beginning to undo bra.  The hooks gave easily and she sat up and flung the white garment away.  Just in time to meet his eyes.  He’d been watching her.  Waiting.  He hooked his thumbs over the straps of his thong and pulled down.  She watched what he wanted her to.  Watched the satin patch slip down his from perfect ‘V’.  Watched the waistband pull his bulbous tip and erection down… down… down… until his manhood finally popped free of the black satin.  Her cheeks flushed as his cock bobbed up and down for a moment before settling, straight and strong and thick.  Suddenly she wanted to touch herself.  But even more, she wanted him to touch her.  Wanted his cock inside her.  He bent over, slipped his thong free of his calves, and let it drop to the floor.  He stepped out of it as he turned to the nightstand and tossed all save for one of his handful of condoms onto it.  Then he turned back to her and the bed.  He tore open the foil as he walked up to the edge of the bed.  He smirked as her eyes watched with rapt attention as he withdrew the flesh toned, latex ring from inside and discarded the wrapper.  Vegeta pulled a reservoir tip for himself then pressed the ring to his tip and gently stroked it down his shaft.  He was gratified to hear the soft mewl that came from her.

He lifted one knee up onto the bed then the other, crawling up.  In the middle of the bed, nearly between her knees as before, Vegeta sat back on his heels and reached out to her.

Her eyes looked from him to his proffered hand then back to him.  Cautiously, she placed her hand in his.  He pulled her up onto her knees.  And then onto his lap.  Her slick folds parting around his sheathed shaft.

With one hand braced at the small of her back, his free hand reached up behind her and plucked the first of a handful of hairpins free from her tight bun of hair.  He flung the pin away.  His fingers reached up again and pulled another pin free and tossed it away.  Then another and another.  With each pin, she became more comfortable.  Her body relaxing.  Good, he needed her relaxed; although he could tell she was still holding her breath.

Finally he took her bun in his hand and gently pulled it free, releasing it to it’s ponytail form.  Then he reached up again, took hold of the hairband, and pulled it from her tail.  He cast it aside and nearly stopped breathing.  Her hair hung in a softly curling curtain of teal behind her.  Her bangs curling gently around her face.  She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.  He drew her closer to him.  The slip of her wet clit over his covered shaft scintillating both of them.  He chest tightened, his breathing picking up as her own breathing became ragged and her cheeks flushed.

She cupped his cheeks and he thought of reminding her about his rule of no kissing on the mouth when he felt her sit up on her knees on either side of his thighs.  Lifting herself off his shaft.

Good Woman, he purred to himself as he reached down between them and took hold of himself.  He angled his tip up.  She moaned, but her eyes never left him.  He watched the way her throat flexed as she swallowed hard.  The way her collarbone lifted and fell with the heaving of her chest.  How that same heaving needless propped up her full bosom like bulbous bowls of porcelain-hued cream with nips of her own bright reddish pink ‘strawberries’ begged him to sample to see if those strawberries made her cum taste as sweet as that fine champagne.

His eyes rose to meet her sapphire blue ones.  He wanted to taste.

With easy movements, he rubbed his reservoired tip along her parted slit.  Wetting his latex with her fresh juices.  His breathing picked up, shallowed.  He ached to sample her.  When her mouth fell open with pants, he stopped his movements and pressed his tip to her entrance.  She moaned and pulled him closer.  His hand on her lower back drew her nearer and in tandem with his hand holding his cock, he breached her.  She gasped.  Head tilting forward a little.  Some of her hair falling over her shoulders.  With his tip inside her wet warmth, he released his shaft and held onto her hip.  He pulled her slowly down on his cock.  She moaned the entire way.  He felt her nails starting to dig into him and it sent chills up his spine.  His cock twitched inside her and her head fell back, mouth hanging open, eyes shut, and letting out the most divine moan he’d ever heard a woman produce for him.

He was inside her.  She was tight, but not uncomfortable.  It was clear that she hadn’t been laid that often and definitely not that recently.  She was like some sort of prize, like a fairytale.  A rarity.

Vegeta bowed his head to her breasts and kissed them again.  His tongue licking the warm pillowy flesh.  Lapping at the cream.  She leaned back more.  Her pussy tightening around his cock inside her.  His mouth traveled further then his lips parted and his tongue slipped out.  The tip of his tongue licking at her pert strawberry nib.

Her core clenched him.  He groaned and licked again.  She cried out again.  His tongue curled swirled around her strawberry before drawing it into his mouth.  He suckled her.

Oh Kami,” she whimpered, her body curling in on him.  Her hands clutching his head to her breast.  Her cheek pressed to the top of his head.  He could feel her breaths puff over his forehead and down his face.  Her breath smelled sweet.

He rolled his head over her nipple.  Kissing it, suckling it, lovingly as his hips rose.  Lifting them.  His first thrust.  Pushing himself into her to his hilt.  She moaned above him again.  He lowered his hips then lifted them again.  Then lowered again.  Then lifted.  His thrusts were slow.  But he picked up his pace as his mouth broke free of her strawberry.  He shifted his face to look up into her heavily lidded eyes.  She tasted delicious.  Their mouths hanging open as he thrusted.  The bed’s springs starting to quietly sound.  He picked up his pace and held her hips down on his lap so he penetrated her deeper.  Felt like he was fucking her harder.

She hissed, “Oh Kami, yesssss,” she bit her lower lip again and he lost control.

The bed bounced with his hard, fast thrusts.  Their eyes never broke contact and she moaned to his face.  Cried out to his face.

Oh fuck me… oh yes, fuck me…  Deeper.  Oh fuck, harder!  Yes!  Yes!  Oh Kami!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!

It was music to his ears.  The greatest symphony to ever be heard on the planet.  And he was the conductor.  She his instrument.  And he was playing her to their mutual delight.  It was a rare treat that he got to have a client in which he could indulge as much as they were.  She was slim, trim, and built like a wet dream.  He had no problem getting a hardon for her.  No problem spending the entire night with this bed as their world.  He would rock it.  Have her mewling.  Fuck her with total abandon for as long as they both could last.

Oh Kami!  Oh Kami!”  She squeaked as he felt her pussy clenching him unbearably tight.  Shit any tighter and he was going to cum too.  Good.

Oh fuck,” she gasped and clung to him as her walls fluttered around his cock deep inside her.

He gritted his teeth, “Fuck.”  He came.  His cock twitching in it’s sheath, in her warmth.  He felt each spurt of cum fill his condom with every twitch.  Hot.  Sticky.  There was a part of him that wanted to break his second rule, the one about always use a condom.  He wanted her raw for a moment just to feel what it would be like to feel her sweet cunt milk him dry and his hot cum to squirt against her fluttering walls.  Nice and deep.  But that would be absolute lunacy.  He knew to use condoms and he knew to use them properly.

She weakened in his arms and he let her slump back on the bed.  They were breathless, something he hadn’t experienced in… well, he couldn’t remember being breathless from sex before.  He’d never actually wanted to cum before and thrown himself into getting her to cum too.  Sure, he’d cum before with a client; it was a biological reaction really, but this was different.  He’d wanted her to cum more than just as the end to a session with a client, but he actually had wanted her to cum because he was with her.  And he’d wanted to cum with her.  And she’d drawn his orgasm out of him with her own.

It was great.  Being with a client should always feel like this.

But he knew that wasn’t true.  This wasn’t true.  He was in the presence of something mythical, like a dragon capable of granting wishes.

He eased himself out of her.  His reservoir filled and then some.  It’d been awhile since he came while with a client.  His tip landed on the bedtop gently, but he still winced, he was still sensitive even through the latex and cum, and there was no mistaking her groan of discontent.

He looked up at her.  Her eyes were opened as much as his were.  Sprawled out before him, he wanted her again.  She’d been heavenly…  His eyes widened as he watched her slowly bite her lower lip again.  It was like her signal to him.  She wanted more.

So did he.  For once.

“Whole night,” she whispered.

He smirked and she shuddered visibly.  Gods, he wanted her to tremble underneath him, screaming to the heavens, and cumming all over his stiff cock plunged to his hilt deep inside her.

Gods, he wanted to cum with her again.

He quickly snapped off the used condom and turned and dropped it on the floor next to its torn wrapper as he took up another one.  He threw its torn wrapper on the floor as well, pulled another reservoir for his next load of cum to fill, and rolled the condom on over his already hardening cock.

Her giggle called to him.  He smiled as he leaned over her, crawling up her lithe, little body.  She grinned at him, her face blossoming surrounded by the teal ocean of her lightly curly hair.  Stunning.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers threading through the hairs of his wig, he hated that she wasn’t running her fingers through his real hair.  He buried his face in her neck again, nipping at her skin.  She giggled in his ear, squirming playfully beneath him.  One thrust of his hips and he was in her to his hilt.

Ha-nngh,” she called out to the ceiling.  Her back lifting from the bed again.  He slipped his hands underneath her back.  Holding her in place as he abandoned her neck and feasted on her other strawberry.  Thrusting fast and hard into her with reckless abandon.