Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from sexy Saiyans, a.k.a. DBZ.

A/N: If you are going to have preternatural lover then you should have preternatural sex.


Chapter Three

Bulma paused in the action of rolling on her black, silk stocking as warm air kissed her bare skin. It was redolent with ozone and the oppressive weight of the summer clouds that lounged low and storm-laden in the sky. She knew who brought the elements of wind and fire into her bower without lifting her head.

"No," she uttered with unfelt conviction.


Vegeta's rich, baritone voice sent shivers of anticipation down her spine, wetting her core. She licked her red-slicked lips; trailing her gaze across the cream carpet to the balcony doors. His feet were bare, and he was wearing loose blue jeans. His tanned feet were sexy, and that was wrong. So wrong. Men shouldn't have sexy feet. But he did, with long toes that curled into the plush carpet as if every inch of him, even his damn feet, relished the feel of anything that wasn't austere or harsh or anything to do with the hard business of surviving. She refused to allow her gaze to go above his knees, instead she studiously returned to the task of rolling up her stocking and attaching it to the navy blue garter.

"I'm going out clubbing with Yamcha."

"Sounds vaguely violent."

Her lips twitched. "Wrong connotation. We're meeting his new sports agent." She dared a glance in his direction, noting his intense interest in her underwear. "It's business." She was quick to defend.

"And you're wearing-What are you wearing?"

Her fingers, numb from just basking in his sexy-footed presence couldn't slide the clasp in place for the garter. Pretending nonchalance, she abandoned it and sat erect on her vanity bench; her feet tucked coyly beneath, her breast plumped by her navy blue push-up. Her hair and make-up were done, and all that was left were her sapphire dress and shoes. She met Vegeta's gaze from across the room. He was lounging against the balcony door in a polo and jeans. She tried not to notice how the navy color of his shirt matched her underwear.

She shrugged, lifting her chin defiantly. "It's not for you."

He moved so fast the storm-thick air rushed over her skin. Her breasts heaved with a sharp quick gasp, and her pulse fluttered at the hollow of her throat. He knelt before her as a knight would before a lady. She shook the romantic thoughts from her head, knowing that she was no fairy tale princess, and he certainly wasn't a fantasy prince no matter the title he claimed. She firmed her mouth, trying hard to stay in control of what little faculties she had left when it came to Vegeta.

"I hate it when you do that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Show off."

She watched with stilled breath as a wicked smile stole over his full lips. When he smiled, whether it be wicked or honest, it was as if she was spying someone else. A person that no one, but her had the intimate pleasure of knowing. He took her small foot into his large hand, and braced the heel against his inner thigh. Slowly, his eyes holding hers, he slid his hands up her calf, relishing the feel of silk all the way up to her thigh.

"I can't help being more man than you're used to."

She swallowed, and leaned back, her elbow resting on the rosewood vanity. He was so close she could feel his heat at the very core of herself, and her whole body ached to have him cover her. When she didn't reply to his taunt he dropped his gaze, pouring his attention onto her leg, his fingers dancing across the lacy top of the stocking.

"These are amazing. What are they?"

She gripped the edge of her vanity, nearly ready to throw herself at him. His voice was an aphrodisiac. She wondered if he laughed if the sound would make her orgasm. Even better, if he were to laugh while inside her. Oh, God. She tightened her grasp until her knuckles blanched white. She never thought to see any man so enamored with something as simple as silk stockings, but then again an alien like he may have never come across such a thing in the entire universe. For all she knew alien women dressed in atrocious paisley muumuus.

"Stockings," she whispered.

"And this?" He toyed with the strap, examining the clasp.

"A garter."

Deftly he snapped it in place. She swallowed as the strap tightened. His hand slid between her thighs, caressing her bare skin so he could reach the strap underneath. He smoothed the lace filigree belt, shifting his weight forward so her legs fell apart.

"I thought you were beautiful in red, but blue-I definitely like you in blue." He snapped the garter on her thigh. Her skin tingled as blood rushed to the surface.

Her pulse was racing, and there didn't seem to be enough air in the room. She could feel the blush of heat cover her chest.

"You sure know how to dish the compliments for a homicidal maniac."

He moved. Slow enough for her to see, but still heart-pounding fast. He lifted her off the bench and onto the vanity, scattering her cosmetics. Frightened at his sudden intensity, she looked away, watching as a silver tube of lipstick rolled off the polished wood and onto the floor. He was leaning into her, his torso between her thighs. She could feel the cold sheen of the mirror against her shoulders as she leaned back, baring her throat. He pressed the advantage, nuzzling her beneath her chin.

"If I was a maniac I would have killed that worthless male you keep ranting about, and taken you back to my cave."

His hot breath tickled her ear, and she laughed; a husky, sexy sound she barely recognized as coming from her.

"I said maniac, Vegeta. Not caveman. Maniacs have lairs."

The penalty for her humor was a tiny nip to the jaw. She struggling against his captivity half-heartedly, but she stilled like a doe under a wolf's gaze when she felt his fingers slide against the thin strip of silk that passed for panties between her legs. He curled one finger around it, his knuckle pressing against the empty hollow of her body as he tugged. His lips covered hers before she could protest. First, petitioning for entrance into her mouth with feathery licks of his tongue, then demanding it when she didn't acquiesce with soft nips of his teeth. She opened beneath him, her mouth and her legs. He pressed into her further, and she had to wrap her arms around his wide shoulders for support. Her plumped breasts were crushed against his chest, and she desperately wished he had broken into her room shirtless.

She recoiled at the thought. He was uninvited, and she had to remember that. She bit down on his lip, and shoved at his chest with all her meager strength. Snarling, he jumped back, wiping his mouth with his forearm. She watched him taste blood and froze. In the passage of a half a second she waited for fists or coldness in his eyes, any sign of grievance against her in the hard set of his body. Reassured when she saw none of those, fire (was it anger or desire) burned through her veins. She scrambled off the vanity, stalking over to the closet door where her dress hung, her blue heels settled neatly beneath.

Scared, sad and disappointed, she struggled to break the deep intensity of the moment. "I am a strong, independent, intelligent woman, Vegeta. Emphasis on intelligent. Do you know how many Pulitzers I have?" She didn't wait for him to answer; instead she flashed her fingers in his face. "Two, one in physics and another in mathematics." She swiped up her shoes, before stomping back towards him. "I am not ruled by my hormones. I am a woman of reason. Logic. Equations. You can't just come in here, and make me dance to you sexy little smut tune. I am powerful." She tapped an open-toed sling back in the center of his chest. She bent over to put her shoe on, hopping awkwardly. "I don't care how fungasmic you are."

"Fungasmic?" He was eyeing her wearily as she hopped up, and down like a one-legged, angry chicken. She popped up, red-faced, and poked him in the chest.

"Fun. Fantastic. Orgasmic. Whatever." She bent down to put on her other shoe, leaning against him for support this time.

Shod she stood up, glaring at him before throwing her hands in the air. Twirling away she retrieved her dress. "You make me freaking insane. A crazy woman. I can't work, I can't think, I'm ruining my relationship. I can't get through one meeting without thinking about your bulging muscles, and your tight ass, and your perfect to die for cock. No man is that good." She stepped into her dressed, pulling it over her hips. She struggled with the zipper in the back, spitting hostile, unladylike words in Vegeta's general direction.

Panther-silent he stalked up behind her. He swatted her hands away so he could zip up her dress. Bulma stilled under his gentle touch. She had to fist her hands at her sides to keep from throwing herself at him.

"Thank you," she told him when he was done. Her head held high, she checked her appearance in the mirror before turning back towards him, but he was already gone, the balcony door wide open. She sank down on her vanity bench, her face in her hands. The urge to cry so strong she had to swallow the lump in her throat. Vegeta was going to be the death of her. It was up to her whether it was going to be sweet or bitter, but how did one decide between love and lust?

Bulma tugged down her skirt for the thousandth time. Yamcha had no real interest in the sexy underwear she was sporting, but he wanted to make sure everyone else in the secluded VIP lounge knew he was with the most beautiful woman in the room. She looked away, sipping her Cristal as Yamcha conversed with the sports executive who kept collecting beautiful women at his side like they were Hummel figurines. Yamcha may be fingering her garter, but he was looking down Bambie's blouse as he leaned over to hear what the other man was saying. Bulma's cool gaze scanned the crowd. Yamcha had placed her closest to the balcony rail so everyone in the club could see her, and from where she sat she could watch the undulating masses on the dance floor.

A flash of blue caught her eye. She turned her head to watch a man with black hair weave his way expertly through the crowd. Bulma's throat tightened as she watched him move. It was pure sex. Deliberate, restrained and with just enough danger to make any girl's libido sit up and pant. He was wearing a sapphire silk button down, a few buttons undone at the collar, and dark jeans. Blue and red were her favorite colors. She didn't have much in her wardrobe that didn't consist of those varying hues. As a result when she went shopping for Vegeta's street clothes she dressed him as she would herself. It wasn't surprising he had a shirt in his closet the same hue as her dress, but it was damn disconcerting that he made a choice to wear it.

He didn't once glance her way, but she was certain he knew she was watching. Her fingers tightened on her crystal flute as a South Beach blonde pushed her way through the crowd bee-lining for him. He tilted his head as she spoke, but with his back to her, Bulma couldn't see his expression. Not that she needed to. The woman's face said it all. The hungry way her eyes ate their way up his body, to the way she moistened her lips with a tiny darting tongue. She was advertising sex, and by the way Vegeta was allowing her to edge closer, he was buying.

When they disappeared into the shadows, slipping towards the back of the club, Bulma excused herself. Yamcha barely looked up, and Bulma barely noticed. She returned a few waves from sycophants of her wealth, shaking her head when they motioned her closer. She slipped down the stairs, ignoring how her skirt rose over her thighs, giving the VIP bouncer a peek of her garter. She moved passed him with a nod and a smile, allowing the crowd to fold in on her. She never spent much time on the bottom floor of the club, but she knew that beyond the bathrooms there was an exit into a blind alley. She scanned the crowd, but dark blue was too hard to see in the shadows and whirling colored lights. The hall for the bathrooms was crowded, and she was thankful that the VIPs had their own facility. She nudged a cluster of plastic boobs and spray tans out of the way, ignoring the scathing remarks as she forced her way to the back door.

With grunt of exertion she spilled out into the street. For a minute she was blinded. The darkness of the alley was overwhelming, and suddenly muffled noise of the club made her feel as if a bag had been thrust over her head. She scanned the alley, seeing nothing but shadows far deeper than those of the club. The alley was shared by a Chinese restaurant and the stink of old grease and rotted food made her gag. With the alley apparently empty Bulma panicked. She was turning back towards the door, when the shadows erupted with movement. Someone or something was on top of her before she could scream. She smelled hard work and soap, and something that was indefinably familiar. She rocked back on her high heels, knowing instinctively she would be caught.

"Where is she?" The bitter question slipped past her tightly clamped lips before she could choke it down.

"I sent her on her very disappointed way, but if watching is what you are in to, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement." He nuzzled the back of her neck, his arms wrapped around her in a cage of muscle and sinew that she didn't necessarily want to escape from anytime soon.


"Jealous wench." His breath was hot and tickled the fine hairs on her nape. His voice, even spitting mean words, was enough to make her shiver with want. She pulled away from him, secretly relieved when his grasp did not loosen.

"What you are doing is crude, Vegeta. Tracking me here, flaunting another woman in front of my face."

"The way you flaunt the weakling?" His words were a growl, and for the first time she heard real anger in his tone.

"It's not the same."


"We aren't in a relationship, Vegeta. Kami, you're the other man for crying out loud."

"Then what do you care if I fuck another woman? That's not very rational of you, Bulma." Slick and snide the words slid over her cold skin like sleet from a winter storm. She examined his words, dissecting the feelings boiling inside her with a scientist's cool rationale, but there was no explanation for the anger she felt upon seeing Vegeta with another woman. The hurt slicing through her when he sought someone else out.

"I just do." Her words were a whisper of torment. Vegeta was silent behind her, and the moment dragged on for eternity. His banded arms loosened around her waist, and she was able to turn to face him. Too hurt to look him in the eye, she buried her face in his chest, inhaling the male scent that was uniquely Vegeta's. His hands roved over her back, stopping to massage a tight muscle here or there before moving on. He coaxed her chin up, angling down so his mouth slashed across hers. With the touch of his lips all her hurt and bitterness melted away until only their passion, so strong and unexplainably intense, remained between them.

He pushed her back against the brick wall and something gooey slicked over her bare shoulder. She shuddered in disgust, arching away. Vegeta backed up, pulling her with him, eyeing the wall as if it was some sort of beast bent on doing them harm.

"What?" he growled when he saw nothing wrong, his dark eyes darting around looking for other hidden enemies.

"It stinks and this alley is disgusting. I'm not some-." She choked off her words, and pinned her gaze to a piece of greasy trash at their feet. Guilt drowned her. Yamcha didn't deserve to be treated this way.

"Not some what?"

She shrugged, her full lips tugging down at the corners.

"Some cheap whore?" Vegeta finished, reading the chaos in her mind. Her shoulders stiffened, and she mulishly refused to look at him even when he tried to tip her chin up with his fingers. When that didn't work he cupped her face in the palms of her hands. His touch was so gentle she could do nothing less than look him in the eye. His endless gaze never ceased to awe her. She could see why his enemies feared him so greatly. He was dangerous. It emanated from every pore in his body, but it was his dark eyes that were truly chilling. When he told you he would be the death of you he meant it. This was a man who never lied. Every word he spoke was backed up by the promise in his eyes.

"You are not a whore." He brushed his thumbs over the high bones of her cheeks. She was enraptured by his stare, by the reflection of her blue eyes in his dark ones. "You are a queen."

Her body jolted as if she had been struck by lightning. This man who never lied, had just paid her the greatest compliment he knew. Placement in life meant everything to him, and there was nothing greater than a queen. He dropped his hands around her waist, tugging her hard against his chest. With her tightly nestled against him, they shot up into the air. She held onto him for dear life, too afraid to even scream. Her hair flattened against her skull as they sped up into the thick layer of clouds. She felt cold mist against her skin, and the wetness of rain soon to come as they passed through clouds so thick you couldn't see past your nose. The rocketed out the top, bringing a geyser of fine mist with them. At the pinnacle of their thrust they pirouetted in the sky and came to a graceful stop. This high up the sky was a clear midnight blue dotted with diamond stars that winked conspiringly at them. The full moon's rays danced over the fluffy whirls, turning the cloud bank into a landscape of lush valleys and silver tipped hills. Bulma was awed by the sheer beauty of nature.

"Who wished the moon back?" she whispered, thinking that Dendi must have known the world would only be right with it back in the sky.

She was brought back to reality at the sound of a zipper being drawn. Her dress went loose in the back, hanging off her shoulders. She darted a glance at Vegeta, who was grinning wickedly at her.

"Here?" She gaped, flustered at the thought.

"Here," Vegeta confirmed with arrogance, and tugged until her straps ripped. Her dress slipped down her body and off her feet. She watched as it was swallowed by the clouds, lost forever.

"That was a two thousand dollar dress," Bulma commented dryly still staring after it.

"And it was worth every penny even if it was barely a scrap. This holster for your breasts however is going to have to go. I love what it is doing for them, but I like them naked and pouting even better." With a flick of his fingers her bra followed her dress down into the spiral of clouds.

His mouth was covering hers, and she forgot that there was even a reason to protest as his well-muscled thigh found its way between her legs. His rough Levi's chaffed her inner thighs as his leg pressed into her. His mouth broke away from hers and she moaned in discontent. Ignoring her, his tongue lapped over her pulse and found the hollow of her throat. She arched her back, rubbing her breasts against his silk shirt. She clenched the loose material in her fists, tugging at it until the buttons flew off. She heard a beast growling at her throat, then his shirt was gone and there was delicious warm skin beneath her palms.

Bulma started to fall back, but she was unafraid. She could feel the cradle of Vegeta's ki all around her, pressing into the hollows of her body, creating a warm hammock for her to lie back in. Through thinly parted lashes she could see the moon above her head, and the whipped mounds of clouds that she reclined upon. Vegeta was lavishing her breast with his hot tongue and teasing nips of his teeth, bringing her nipples to the hard pout he loved. There was an ache in her body that was becoming heady, and it begged her to press her thighs together in a useless attempt to alleviate the agony of emptiness, but Vegeta's thick thigh was still tightly wedged between her legs, roughly thrusting against her a pantomime of sex that made her want to scream.

His lips were on her belly, and she jerked in his arms. She thrust her fingers into his hair. It was thick and coarse and she relished the feel of it sliding between her fingers. She tightened her fists, pulling at him with a ruthlessness that was purely feminine in its want and need. Vegeta responded with a growl of dominance that had her wilting against him. His hand was between her thighs then, the heel pressing against her in punishment for her impatience. Her silk panties were damp and uncomfortable. He tore them away, leaving her garter and stockings pristinely intact. With his teeth he played with the lace of her belt that encircled her low across her belly and hips.

"Blue is definitely your color," he whispered as he delved lower, and she could feel his words on her natural fur. She bucked against him, begging him, pleading with him to give her what she wanted.

When his tongued slicked over her swollen clit she screamed at the moon, her body twisting in the clouds. His tongue lapped her again and again, always teasing, but never letting her fall over the edge of madness. She struggled against him, desperate. She wanted him. Needed him. Was angry at him for denying her. When she thought she couldn't possibly take anymore without expiring from pure primal need, he lifted himself over her, brushing his skin over hers up her entire body. His jeans were gone and then he was inside her. His tongue in her mouth. His beautiful perfect penis thrusting into her. They were falling through the clouds, and for a moment she felt their wet kiss on her skin then his shields were up and they were weightless in a thin blue shell.

Lightning jagged through the inner belly of the clouds, seeking out the energy Vegeta's shields generated. Lightning struck them from all sides, and white fire danced outside the blue shell, illuminating the strong features of Vegeta's face as he moved inside her. She wrapped her body around him, her eyes slit as she watched the fireworks spark just an arms-length away. The look of pure pleasure on Vegeta's face was enough to make her climax around him. Her body shuddering so hard that she felt like she was coming apart at the seams. As her body tightened on Vegeta, he threw his head back and let loose a primal screamed that rivaled the sharp crack of the thunder all around them.

In the moment of climax, the shield around them flickered, and they free fell through the heavens, the clouds rushing by them, until they were dumped out beneath. Bulma clung to Vegeta, still experiencing the last shivers of her orgasms, her screams of pleasure and fear lost in the rushing wind. As they fell towards the Earth, Bulma knew that dying would never be so good.

Driven to savor every drop, she yanked back on Vegeta's hair, exposing his well-tanned neck, and bit him with every bit of strength left in her body. He convulsed against her, and his snarl was animalistic enough to make her primal instincts shriek with the urge to bolt. Vegeta gripped her tighter, and spun them in the air, so he fell first with her sprawled on top of him. They slowed their descent, enough for Bulma to open her eyes, but not enough to survive impact. She realized for the first time that it was raining. The warm wet drops drenching her through. She looked over Vegeta's shoulder, her eyes widening at the last minute as they dropped into a cold, dark mirror.

The speed of their descent took them deep underwater. It swallowed them whole. Bulma panicked as the inky water streamed all around them. She could feel Vegeta hold her, but she couldn't see him, the darkness of the water was so complete. It felt as if they righted themselves, but she couldn't be sure. All she knew is that they were drowning, and Vegeta was still lodged tightly inside her, thrumming her insides even as she was dying. His lips descended on hers, his tongue forcing its way between her teeth. She struggled against his kiss, but then his breath filled her lungs. She felt his legs kicked, and they rushed upwards.

They shot out of the water, showering the area with crystal droplets. The spun in a lazy dance, still kissing, Vegeta working gently inside her, spent, but reluctant to let everything they experienced come to an end. Vaguely Bulma felt cold air against her wet skin and then she was settling against the earth cushioned by a crush of clover whose scent tickled her nose. The rain had let up some, but lighting still streaked across the heavens and thundered in her bones. Exhausted she closed her eyes, sighing as Vegeta's warm weight settled on top of her and his ki worked to dry them. He had slipped out of her, but she still had him trapped between her thighs, her arms wrapped around his back. He rested his face in the hollow of her throat, his rasping breath rapid and hot on her pulse. She caressed the dip between his shoulders with the flat of her hand, relishing the sound and feel of him all around her.

"I don't know if I love you, Vegeta." He stiffened against her, but she ignored it and pulled him closer. "But I know that I don't love Yamcha. I'm going to end it tomorrow with him. I don't know what we have or what this is between us, but I do know that I want to do it again, and again and again."

She was still whispering into his mouth as he kissed her fiercely. She smelled ozone and rain and crushed clover, but most of all she smelled him and it made her chest tight and her eyes fill with tears. Vegeta was going to be the death of her, and it was going to be sweet until the bitter end.