Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, I can't even lay claim to Vegeta since he's a force all to his own.
For Prince Vegeta, the inspiration to all my fantasies, and the star of my moon-kissed dreams.
A huge, heavy moon hung in the sky, pouring milky moonlight across the asphalt, always a heartbeat ahead, always winning. White and gold stripes zipped past, blurring into an undefined mass before disappearing into a whirling vortex of blackness.
Moonlight danced across the silver curves of the Bugatti Veyron that bulleted through the night. It slid across chrome, rubbed over steel, and sank beneath black rubber. The sleek curves of the car were full like a woman's, with the hard steel core steel of strength beneath. Female, powerful, awe inspiring.
The 487 cubic engine purred over asphalt, whispering to it the secrets of flight. It ate up the tarmac, devouring it with the delicacy of a leopard leaping for its prey. 922 feet of torque bore down on the road, taming it, control it, riding the twisting snake until it obeyed its mistress's every whim.
The woman in control gripped the Italian leather steering wheel, her fingers tightening, palms sweating into driving gloves. Anticipation bore pinpricks of sweat along her skull and beads of it formed at her nape where thick silky blue met pale satin. It rolled down her neck, hidden beneath a mass of hair, sliding under the collar of her tailored, black-leather racing jacket.
Her heart beat thudded against her ribs, aching to burst free and race along the road unfettered by mortal chains. Her pulsed pounded, beating a loud tattoo up her throat and into her ears. Her muscles drawn tight, quivered briefly before rigidly regaining control.
Her lips were dry from too many swift intakes of breath, too many rushed exhalations. She pressed them together, wetting them, slicking the crimson paint. Blue eyes narrowed with calculating certainty as they peered out into the darkness.
The black, liquid road sped beneath her, unlit, unmarked-racing moonlight. Speeding through turns and hairpins, headlights off, only her and the shadows. Beside her the road dropped into black nothingness. No guard rail, no rock wall, no second chances.
Her small foot eased off the tiny race car petals, her toes tapping between the brake and the gas. The Bugatti, able to go from 0 to 100 in 6.5 seconds, barely slowed to 120 mph as it cornered a blind curve effortlessly. The woman's heart sped up with the odometer, her senses heightening, her passions rocketing.
She chanced a glance out her driver side window, tempting fate for a glimpse of death.
He raced along side her, car-less, careless, intensely beautiful. His black hair matted down along his skull, blanketing his wide shoulders. His face was thrust proudly forward, his mouth drawn in concentration, his eyes lost to shadow. He kept his arms tucked into his sides, his palms flat on his black-leather-clad thighs. His jacket was zipped to his chin, the leather conforming to every inch of his body, leaving no room for drag, creating an aerodynamic, biological bullet that could keep pace with a steel monster.
Catch me if you can.
The woman sang, her eyes firmly glued back onto the road. Her toes curled and the needle of her odometer twitched forward to 165 on the straightaway. They were still climbing the mountain, but soon they would reach the top. If she crested at that speed there was a good chance that her baby would shoot into overdrive, upping her speed by at least thirty miles. Once there, the road would drop into a twenty percent downgrade that would send her stomach spiraling. She knew this road like she knew the back of her hand, but even she understood fear.
Her muscles, spiked with adrenaline kept her spine rigid, her frame unbending under the weight of her exhilaration. What would happen at the top? Would she loose it? Would she spin away, flipping like a toy top on a uneven table?
She dared another glance at the man racing her. His face was emotionless, his eyes set for the goal of winning. Her nipples harden at the sight of him, brushing against her jacket. Warm heat, gushed to her center, tingling the nub of flesh between her legs. She could almost feel the sensation of a man's hand there, pressing the seem of her pants against her clit, abrading it gently with the leather.
He looked at her, just a glance, but it sent her mind reeling. Could he know? Could he sense it? She knew he could smell her when she was turned on. He spoke of it, berated her for drawing him near with her scent, but was it possible for him to smell her through glass and steel? To taste her on his tongue with 165 mph winds whipping by?
The road crested, and the Bugatti leapt forward, graceful and powerful. For the barest instance she was flying, souring through the sky, free from the burdens of the ground. She almost slipped passed the bonds of gravity, but it relentlessly reclaimed her with a heavy hand, jarring her back to the ground with a rooster tail of bright sparks, and screeching metal. The wheel jerked in her hands, crabbing across the asphalt before skidding back into place, putting her a nose ahead of the man who chased her.
She rocketed down the road, cornering on serpentine curves, hugging the breast of the mountain. They spilled out onto a gently sloping straightaway and ahead in a splash of moonlight she saw their rendezvous point. They agreed to end their pulse-pounding, adrenaline-throbbing race at a grassy plateau high on the mountain ridge overlooking a stunning valley vista.
She knew from experience that the lush grass lipped over the edge, scaling down a sheer rock face that plummeted thousands of feet to the rocky bottom. She stopped breathing, her vision tunneling, her ears lobs throbbing with expectation.
She took her foot off the gas, tapping the break briefly before jerking the wheel to the right. The beautiful custom built machine pirouetted across the ground as gracefully as any swan princess. Moonbeams reflected off silver and black, and spirals of dirt kicked up to veil the vehicle in a mystic haze.
The world spun around her, twirling her, leading her in macabre waltz of death. Her heartbeat spiked to an unbearable pitch, thudding in her ears so loudly she could no longer hear the purr of the engine or the squeal of the tires.
If she misjudged her speed just a little, if she miscalculated her distance by a mere centimeter then she would spin off the edge of the cliff and into the void. The fall to the bottom would be long enough to recant all of her sins, and rail against the injustice of her inevitable death before exploding in a ball of flame on the rocks below.
She forgot to breath and her tongue swelled with fear in her mouth. The sweat coating her body dried up, leaving her skin clammy on the inside of her clothes. The car showed no signs of slowing and the edge was nearing. She closed her eyes in prayer only to snap them open again for fear of missing even a millisecond of life.
Just when she thought that the world would never stop spinning and the void beneath the cliff would claim her life, the tires caught hold of the ground, skidding her to a stop at the stone's edge.
Her body jerked with the impact, her hair whipping around her face. Her harsh breathing feathered the loose tendrils, absurdly tickling her nose. Her fingers were clamped down around the wheel so tightly that she doubted she would ever be able to pry them off, and her knuckles ached with the strain.
Her stomach roiled from her wild ride and she swallowed to settle it, nearly choking on her dry throat. She rolled her tongue in her mouth drumming up a tiny bit of spit to coat her prickly throat. Once she realized the world wouldn't be moving again anytime soon she raised her eyes, her gaze locking onto the first solid image she could see.
Vegeta stood before her, his black, leather-clad arms crossed in leisurely disregard. His mouth was set in a grim line of disapproval, his eyes blazing with an ill-disguised passion that heated her blood, loosening her cold, stiff muscles and untying the knots in her stomach. He was the reason that she hadn't been afraid. He was the one who would have saved her. He would never let her go over the edge.
He must have saw the subtle relaxing of her body, because his scowl grew fiercer. With deadly intent he stalked over to her door, ignoring her gasp of protest as he tore it away with a screech of rending metal. He reached into the car, pulling her out with surprisingly gentle, but fierce hands, not pausing to give her time to turn the engine off. He hauled her up, pressing her against the car, and holding her prisoner with the steel cage of his body.
"You could have died," he hissed angrily, but was quickly distracted by the woman he held. Unable to resist the sight and smell of her lover, Bulma buried her head into his chest, rubbing her face across his muscular torso like a contented cat. If she was able she would have purred in pure unabashed delight. She could smell the worked leather of his jacket, the whiff of fresh, clean mountain air that had streamed through his hair during the race, and beneath it all, the scent of man, raw, heady and untamable.
He plunged his fingers into her hair at the base of her skull, pulling her face away from him, and levering her head back to bare her pale throat. With a possessive animal growl he nipped at her neck, drenching her with open mouthed kisses, and tiny bites from her collar bone to her ear lobe.
"Did that make you wet?" He rasped into her ear, his voice rough with excitement and erotic sensuality.
Vegeta bent his knees, nudging her thighs apart to accept him. He stood up deliberately, sliding his body over hers in molten slowness that was thick and sweet like molasses. She could feel the hard bulge of his erection thrusting up between her legs, fitting into the hollow of her body. He urged her up onto her tip toes, stretching her along his body until they fitted together like two gloved hands.
His hot breath feathered on her throat, threatening her, heightening her senses to primal awareness. His entire body was coiled with barely caged intensity, his aura snapping around them with excitement. He sent her blood pounding, her pulse racing, and her senses screaming like an animal on the run.
"Wet," she croaked out, certain she was deteriorating into her baser instincts right before his eyes. "I damn near came."
The entire race was like a full throttle excursion into foreplay. Her body was tingling with sexual acuteness that was pearling her nipples painfully and soaking through her pants. She bucked against him, urging him to fuck her like she needed him to.
"You liked that, did you?"
The question was rhetorical, but it deserved an answer. She wrapped her arms around his body, her hand sliding down his back and over the curve of his tight ass.
"There's nothing like feeling raw power purring under your hand." She squeezed as she spoke, edging him even closer to her. She felt the world shift as a deep-seated vibration began in the center of her chest before rippling outward to dance along her skin and shoot tiny shocks of lightning through her erect nipples. She blinked, finally realizing it was Vegeta's growl that was sending ricochets of pleasure through her.
He shoved her back against the car, his nimble fingers finding the tongue to her zipper. Metal razored through the night as he undid her tight leather jacket, freeing her breasts that had been flattened, exposing her pink nipples hard with desire. She heard the quick inhalation of his breath, felt the instant tightening of his skin under her hand when he realized that she wore nothing beneath the jacket except bare, needy flesh.
In the spirit of fair play, she dragged his jacket from his wide shoulders, moaning in disappointment when she saw his black tee shirt beneath. His teeth flashed ivory under the curl of his cruelly sensual lip, a token grin at her frustration. She tried to tug the shirt off his body, but he ignored her fruitless struggles, impatient for a taste of her succulent breasts. He leaned into her, his strong hands wrapping tightly around her hips, branding her as his as he lifted her bare breasts to his hungry mouth.
He slid her up the polished steel and glass of the auto, pinning her helplessly in his grasp. Her head arched back, her blue hair falling in waves onto the silver hard top, while he devoured her. His wicked mouth descended on a waiting, pearled nipple, laving it with attention with his tongue and lips, before sucking it into his velvety heat. She moaned, a thready, needy sound in the back of her throat. Her hands dove into his thick hair, her nails raking against his skull, sending tingles of sensation down his spine.
He nuzzled her breasts in sheer delight, licking one nipple before nipping the other playfully. She wrapped her legs around his waist, desperately seeking a way to feel all of him against her. Her clothing frustrated her, the seem of her pants digging painfully into her crotch. Her bare skin brushed against his clothes, and they burned her with their impersonal heat. She wanted more; she wanted him next to her, without barriers.
Vegeta levered his body against her, fitting his pelvis in the cradle of her thighs and pinning her body against the car at the hips. He lifted his muscled torso away, ignoring her unintelligible protests. Silently, he lifted his arms above his head, and without waiting to be being told she grasped the hem of his shirt, tugging it from his body in rush. She gave a small cry of delight at the sight of the treasures revealed to her.
Moonlight poured over his body like a lover's caress, delving into the valleys of his body, highlighting the sculptured marble of his muscles. With his arms stretched above his head his abs laddered up his flat stomach, rippling around a deliciously indented belly button that begged to be kissed. The leather pants he wore rode low, revealing the hollow that lay between the gentle curve of his lower belly and his hip bone. His bronze flesh glowed in the light, illuminating the darkness, giving him the appearance of wickedness and redemption all in one sexy package.
Once free, he wrapped his arms around her back, holding her against him so he could feast on her slender neck. She sighed at the feeling of her soft breasts pressing against his hard chest, his warm skin soothing her flesh. Her hands slid up the bunched biceps of his arms, her femininity nearly purring at the strength that they contained. They roved up the contours of his back, her fingers dipping into the shadows of his ribs and tracing his spine. He shuddered against her, delighting in her delicate touch. But still it wasn't enough.
Vegeta felt her frustration, the little jerks of her body, and her womanly cries of reprimand. His mouth on her skin was like heaven, but she wanted more than that. She wanted the absolute bliss of his naked body. Her hands snaked between them, her nearly-numb fingers fumbling with the button of his pants. She got it undone and the zipper half way down before the crush of their bodies made it impossible for her to lower it further.
His penis stood flat against his stomach like a steel bar, the head peeking out from the vee of his zipper. She pressed her palm against him, her fingers tracing his hard length, before dancing along the tip. Vegeta ground himself against her hungrily, trapping her hand helplessly between them, his body jerking with the need to be inside her.
Tearing himself away with a groan of pain, he dragged her to the front of the vehicle. He stood before her poised like a god, the ageless mountain behind him, basking in moonlight. Shirtless, fearless, gorgeous to the extreme it was all she could do not to fall upon him in worship. His dark bronze skin melted down into his undone black pants, the tip of his cock, thick and ready, struggling to be free, ready to devour her. She panted at the sight, her face flushed, her body aching deep inside for something to fill it.
His piercing eyes blazed with lust at the sight of her rosy-tipped breasts, and pale ivory skin. He thought of her stripped naked, her bare legs spread wide for his pleasure, and his face darkened with his desire, sending fits of anticipation through Bulma. Wordlessly, he spun her around so she faced the Bugatti, cupping her body against him so she could feel the hard, long length of him pressed against her lower back. The metal hood reflected like a silver lake in the moonlight, tranquility overlaying power. Vegeta pushed her forward, splaying her across it, drowning her in liquid silver sensation. The warmth of the engine engulfed her in delicious heat, and the purr of horsepower sent tingles through her from the center of her breasts to the tops of her thighs.
Vegeta's fingers delved beneath the band of her pants, ignoring the loud tear that resounded on the rocky cliffs as the seams came apart in his hands. Impatiently, he tugged the rest of the material down her long legs, bunching it around her knees. She tried to lever herself up, but a strong hand at her back pushed her down until her breasts were pressed against the warm steel and plumped at her sides.
Vegeta growled at the sight of her slender curve of her back, breasts pillowing beneath her, a rosy ass arching beautifully. He leaned forward, brushing his fingers along her sides, his hard cock straining towards the crest of her ass from beneath his trousers. He slid his hands down the curves of her back as reverently as she had done with the car earlier that day when she purchased the Bugatti. The automobile had made her wet on the spot, he smelled it in the air, and it seemed only fitting that he fuck her on top of it, merging her two desires into one.
His hands reached her rounded hips, and he spread his thumbs towards her center, using them to part her lips. She was pink and wet, waiting for him to fill her. She whimpered, her fingers curling helpless against the hood of her car. She tried to widen her legs, but her knees were tightly wrapped together by the remains of her pants.
With one hand, Vegeta lowered the rest of his zipper, hissing as his aching flesh sprung free. His cock jutted forward, red and throbbing, hungry for its next meal. He gripped it loosely in his hand, sliding his fingers along the length, spreading his pre-cum along the head. He kneaded her plump cheek, sliding the rough pad of his thumb along her slit teasingly.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll forget about your precious vehicle," he vowed roughly, edging closer so he could slide the tip of his erection between her cheeks.
Bulma gasped, her fingers curling, her nails peeling silver paint from the hood.
"What vehicle?" she muttered, her eyes closed in near pain from wanting him. Her inner muscles ached, bearing done on nothing, begging to be filled.
Vegeta chuckled darkly, more than a little pleased at her response. He gripped himself hard around the base, dipping the head into her folds. He hissed a the sheer pleasure of her wet heat. She was a temptation of the senses, a feast for the starving. He rocked against her, delving deeper a little more each time.
Bulma moaned, rocking against him, desperately trying to impale herself on him. She braced her knees on the bumper, arching her back, lifting her self higher to meet his thrusts. She wanted more-she wanted him hard and fast, fucking her until the world exploded.
"Do you like that?" he taunted in a silky voice, barely able to restrain himself. He nudged her again, sinking only the head of his cock into her body.
"Yes. Please, Vegeta," she begged, tossing her head while trying to find the strength to press her self off the hood.
With a strong hand at her back he pushed her down, refusing to let her gain the smallest sense of control. He wanted her beneath him, submitting to his touch, writhing in ecstasy.
"Please, what?" he asked, his fingers dancing along her spine.
"Please," she sobbed dryly, nearly in tears with need.
"Please, what?" he demanded again, his voice rough with authority. He pulled himself out, before delving back in sharply.
"Please fuck me hard!" she screeched, her body pistoning against his.
At her words, he erupted into action. He flexed his hips, sinking into her to the hilt. He fucked her against the car, pushing her over the hood with his weight, slapping her thighs with his. The flat of his hand smacked the hood hard by her face, but she was lost in a frenzy of ecstasy, reveling in the power that purred beneath her, and the raw strength that covered her from behind. Vegeta's braced his weight against the hood, his other hand delving into her tangle of blue hair, his fingers tangling at the nape of her neck.
Bulma came nearly instantly with riptide force. She screamed wordlessly, her cries echoing on the mountain top and ricocheting off the rocks. Vegeta plunged repeatedly into her, unable to contain himself. Her muscles rippling around him pulled him off the edge with her, and he followed with blissful satisfaction. They collided together at the bottom, pillowed on a cloud of bliss.
Vegeta snapped back to his senses, hearing first his harsh breathing rushing in his ears, then the pulse in his throat. Beneath him he felt the smooth silk of Bulma's skin, and the raise and fall of her heaving chest. His braced his weight on either side of her, laying his body firmly over hers so he could feel every sleek curve and luscious valley. He twitched deep inside her, the soft, velvety feel of her bring him back to life. Always she left him craving more, desperate to swallow every last drop of herself that she had to offer.
He nuzzled the back of her head, eliciting a soft moan. He found his way to her ear, licking the rim of the soft shell, delighting in the shivers that danced their way down her spine, quivering against his chest.
"Let's do it again," he whispered in her ear, arching deeper inside her.
Bulma was unsure if he meant the race, the sex or both. All she knew was that it sounded like a wonderful idea, one way or another.
"Oh, yes, let's start from the bottom and work our way up." She wiggled against him, showing him without words which she preferred to do, while giggling at his soft growl of acceptance. "Besides, someone wrecked my car door," she muttered with a mock pout of anger.
"Fuck the car," Vegeta snapped, surging inside her, driving out all thoughts of her expensive, pristine work of engineering art in favor of a more rugged, virile masterpiece.
Still lodged deeply inside her, Vegeta dragged her up to a kneeling position on the hood, her head drawn back, blue hair cascading over his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her, dark skin contrasting sharply with pale flesh, driving her to the edge of reason and beyond. As her eyes began to roll back she caught a glimpse of moonlight that rippled on the hood of the auto, resplendent and beautiful, and still unbeaten.