Do I need to remind anyone of the 'M' rating? No? Good ...

.III

"Damn it, Vegeta!" Bulma groused at her husband. Husband. The word made her slightly dizzy. "Smile!"

The Saiyan merely gave her a hard look and didn't bother to uncross his arms. "I'm here. And I don't see the point in this."

Over to one side, Bulma flashed a skinny little man in jeans a 'wait one moment more' hand signal.

The man sighed. "I'll just take a few more pictures of your wedding cake. Again."

Bulma pressed two fingers to her temple, trying to stave off the stress headache just as her mother hurried over to her looking worried.

"Oh my dear, my darling. I think wittle sweet baby Trunks may have made a mess." The blonde smiled, and held up a grinning toddler who'd just taken his first few steps just the other day in the garden.

The turquoise-haired young mother looked over at the cake, no it was fine. Her blue eyes turned to the presents. No, they were fine too. She looked over at the flower decorated trellis and saw not one darned daisy out of place. She looked at her mother, who wrinkled her nose.

"Oh, that kind of mess." Bulma nodded. "Mom, could you take care of it please? I have to corral Mister Prince of the Whole Universe to let the nice man take a picture with his WIFE!" Her voice may have started off sweet, but it rose as she turned to glare at the object of all her frustration.

Vegeta didn't look at all interested. He even managed to look bored.

"VEGETA!"

The Saiyan warrior narrowed his eyes and gave her a cross look. "Woman, I am right here. Take your damned picture so I can go back to training."

"I. Would. If. You. Would. Damn. Well. Smile!" Bulma got out the words one at a time through her gritted teeth.

"Oh really, Bulma darling. Your language. Is that the way a young wife and mother should speak in front of her baby?"

Steam nearly came out of her ears as she watched her mother trail off toward the house carrying a smiling, if stinky, little boy.

Vegeta eyed his fuming wife, and looked over at the hired photographer. "One picture, then I'm going to go train."

"Will you smile?" She almost begged.

"No."

Bulma resisted the urge to pull at her hair that had taken nearly an hour at the hairdresser's to sweep up into an intricate up-do. "All I want is a beautiful wedding picture. Really, is that too much to ask?"

Vegeta eyed his mate for a moment. "It's not our wedding. That was last week."

"A bride has a right to look gorgeous on her wedding day!" Bulma hissed, plucking at the folds of her new fluffy monstrosity of a dress.

"You look like a cupcake." Vegeta eyed her speculatively. "It's stupid."

Bulma took a deep breath, counted to ten and then moved on to twenty for good measure. Then an idea. She opened her eyes and glared at him. "Is there a Saiyan custom we haven't done yet?"

For the first time the warrior looked unsure. "Huh?"

"This is a tradition. A bridal tradition. Here, for me." Bulma gave him a patently false smile. "Is there something we could do for your traditions? Something Saiyan? A trade, perhaps?"

Vegeta actually gave her a small grin and shook his head. "No. We covered it all."

"Traditional gifts? Foods? Words?" Bulma started pulling out ideas from nowhere, just trying to convince her obstinate husband to stand by her and take ONE lousy picture that didn't have her in her mother's sweat-stained gardening hat.

Her warrior stiffened slightly and shifted his weight.

Bulma's instincts went on high alert. "There is something!"

Vegeta shook his head and shrugged. "No. I'm just getting ready to leave. Take the picture and be done with it."

"Tell me what it is!" Bulma rushed up to him, glaring hard.

The photographer yawned and looked at the couple, then grinned and started taking pictures of the hard assed male and the frothy woman in the poofy dress who was shaking her finger in his face.

Vegeta sighed. "As a proper gift, I should drop at your feet the dead and bleeding body of one of your enemies. But it's an ancient tradition and was out of practice even before my race was destroyed. It turned into the male giving you a weapon soaked in the blood of your enemy." He sneered. "You really want me to do that so you can take your damned picture?"

Bulma stared at him a moment, then mutely shook her head. He sneered. She frowned at him, "I like Earth traditions better. Go get married, kiss the bride, take a picture and go on a honeymoon." Her voice wavered a bit. Today was not going as she'd planned.

Vegeta stared at her a moment, then grabbed her, pulling her full into his arms. He didn't care about crushing her dress, or even if she could breathe. His hand moved to the back of her head and dislodged dozens of tiny pins and small beads as Bulma managed to squeak out a protest.

He grinned darkly at her and kissed her until she nearly passed out from lack of oxygen, bending her over his other arm as the Saiyan warrior ravaged her mouth in a kiss so hot her face went blush red. She could almost literally feel her lips swelling under the onslaught.

The click of the camera whirred quietly.

Finally, Vegeta straightened up, allowing Bulma to stand on her own. Though he had to reach out and steady her for a moment as she tried to catch her balance.

He grinned.

She gaped at him, horrified at how she must look. Her hair was a mess, her make-up was smeared, and her poofy flounces were seriously deflated and crushed.

"But ...but ...how ... WHY?"

Vegeta grinned and tore off his tie, tossing it to her and she caught it absently. "We got married. We had a picture then. I kissed the bride. And we can't go on a honeymoon until I destroy our enemies and save your planet."

Bulma had no words.

"I'm going to train."

Staring at his retreating back, Bulma found her words again. "For this? Just wait until tonight, you still haven't let me bite you."

If Vegeta heard her, he gave no indication. The photographer was staring at her though, and grinning. She gave him a horrified look and stomped off back to the house in her ruined wedding finery.

The photographer sighed. "I guess that means we're not cutting the cake, then?"

.III

Vegeta yawned and leaned into the shower spray, letting the hot water and steam carry away the sweat and grime of nearly five full days of training.

Training to save this stupid planet, not to hide from his mate. Vegeta scowled and tried to relax his shoulders.

The blasted woman was back to nagging him again. "Take a break, Vegeta. You're overdoing it. Trunks needs to see you and get used to you. Bah."

.III

Bulma wrinkled her nose at the musty odor of sweat. "Leave it to a Saiyan to turn a beautiful piece of technology into a stinky gym."

She sighed and made sure the cleaning bots were taking care of things as they should. The turquoise-haired woman tapped a few commands on her portable tablet and synced it with the console. As the diagnostic programs ran, she looked around.

"You see more of him than I do." Bulma sighed. It wouldn't do at all to start thinking of the gravity room like 'another woman'.

The young woman kicked a towel into the path of a cleaning bot and sighed. She'd thought, hoped really, that Vegeta's insistence on a wedding would mean more. More of him. It was still all training and fighting.

Bulma suddenly smiled to herself, though a bit sadly. "What do you expect? He's a Saiyan."

The turquoise-haired woman pulled out a glossy photo taken nearly a week ago. And darned if she hadn't had to pay big bucks to get them back this fast. Big bucks. But it was worth it. Bulma had thought the photo shoot a bust but thought she could at least have a decent picture of her in her gown. And she did. Plus what looked like a hundred shots of just the cake.

But there were a few pictures that had been a total surprise.

One was for just herself. A picture of her trying to tickle a smile out of baby Trunks. Vegeta had been in the background, behind her. Not smiling, of course. But it was the look in his eyes. The possessive expression on his face. The smug look as he watched them that had made her hold catch her breath. He never looked at her like that when she could see it. But the photographer had captured it perfectly.

Sure it reeked of male domination, which was silly. And yes, it was completely archaic. But the sheer sense of possession, of her and Trunks, had literally made her heart skip a beat.

And then there was this picture. Bulma smiled as she shook her head. Bad Man indeed. That kiss he'd given her that had ruined her make-up, dress and hair? It was HOT. And the picture was smoking.

It showed her, bent over his arm but him holding her easily. Strength personified. And it showed him claiming her as his mate. That kiss was pure sultry domination. This one she was making sure he had on hand. A picture showing him in control? Oh yeah, he'd like this one.

Training room or not, he was getting a picture of his wife and that was the end of the story.

Bulma looked around and then headed toward a trunk meant to hold personal items. Wouldn't Vegeta be surprised when he opened this and found a picture to remind him of her? She opened the trunk, and frowned at the dirty laundry. She tossed it all over her shoulder one piece at a time for the bots to pick up and clean.

Looking back down, she suddenly froze. There was a black book, roughly the shape of pictures. She even recognized the cheap leather from the temple. Bulma's hand nearly shook a bit as she turned it over, tracing the name of the temple with her forefinger. Then she opened it slowly.

Tears formed in her wide blue eyes.

It was a hideous picture. Her turquoise hair was limp and flat. Her blouse was wrinkled and sweat stained. The hat? Oh, nothing could be said good about that hat. But she was smiling. Big time smiling. Looking into the face of her new husband, who still wasn't smiling. But he did look ... calm? Relaxed? Triumphant? Dare she say ...happy? No, but he sure did look pleased.

Bulma heard a bot bump into the console and she gave a quick start, looking around wildly. No, Vegeta would take a shower and then eat a ton of food. He wouldn't be back here so quickly. Still. She didn't want him to know that she'd seen this picture.

A picture he'd kept. Here. Where he trained. Bulma bit her bottom lip and put it back just like she'd found it. She'd have to give the other picture to him personally, and it didn't matter if it meant more to her than it did to him.

He had his picture. Not a posed affair, nothing fancy and made up. But a memory of when she'd finally told the man 'yes'.

.III

Vegeta yawned and headed upstairs. Full, clean and replete. Training was going well and he'd be ready for when the next ...next ...

The Saiyan stood in the open door, staring.

Bulma smiled at him gently, standing next to the bed in the laciest see-through gown he'd ever seen. "Man? My Saiyan man? Close the door, please."

Vegeta didn't even bother to tell her not to tell him what to do. His mouth was suddenly too dry anyway. He shut the door and grinned at her.

"Do you like the candles?" Bulma asked in a throaty purr of a voice.

The warrior shook his head, his eyes never leaving his mate. His wife.

"Do you like the music?" She smiled tantalizingly, gesturing toward the tiny but high-tech sound system.

Again the warrior shook his head, advancing on her.

"So it must be the gown you like?" Bulma grinned as Vegeta hooked a finger in the bodice and ripped the lacy frothy thing off her body. "Guess not."

Rough hands gripped her hips and she grimaced, his grip immediately lightened although he still pulled her into his body. Sighing happily, she nosed the collar of his shirt aside to nip at his skin.

The warrior's hands slid up her bare back to tilt her head so he could kiss her properly. Bulma sank into the heat with a happy sigh.

"I'm sorry I don't have an enemy for you to soak a weapon in their blood." The temptress teased him.

"I'll find one for you." He growled, sniffing at her neck and then laving the sensitive skin there with his tongue. He started to guide her toward the bed, but Bulma shook her head and pulled back slightly.

Vegeta frowned.

"You owe me." She grinned.

His frown deepened, then his eyes widened in shock.

"Now. Tonight." Bulma ran one finger down over the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen to the waistband of his slacks. She tugged.

"Woman ..."

"I didn't marry a coward." Bulma raised one eyebrow, knowing she was playing with fire.

Vegeta's face darkened.

"You told me you'd take me into battle." She pointed out in her most sultry voice, ignoring his ill expression.

"Woman ...that's different. The ...that ...what you want is not a Saiyan way."

Bulma smiled and unbuttoned his shirt while he was distracted. "You told me that the dropping of the body at the foot of the wife ..."

"Mate."

"Mate." She corrected obediently, even as she pulled the tails of his shirt from his pants and ran her hands appreciatively up his chiseled chest muscles. "Was an ancient custom, and that it had changed over the years."

Vegeta frowned at her, already seeing where she was heading. "It's not the same."

"Traditions can change." Bulma leaned in and kissed his chest, right next to one of his flat male nipples. Then she looked into his face and shifted the subject. "Does a princess cut diamond make me royalty?"

The Saiyan looked lost a moment and then he shook his head. "No."

"Did I become a princess by marrying you? Prince Vegeta?"

The man sighed and shook his head again. "You're not Saiyan. So no."

"So I can't make a royal declaration of changing a tradition?" She pouted prettily and slid her hands into the cloth of his shirt around his shoulders and slid it off of him completely.

"No woman, you can not." Vegeta gifted her with a very small, very rueful smile. "Nice try though."

Bulma leaned in, letting her bare breasts meet his bare chest. "So why did you choose a princess cut diamond for my ring?"

"It was ...suitable." He growled, and then swooped her into his arms and tossed her on the bed. He looked so arrogant standing next to the bed, hands on his hips, watching her as she kicked off her high heels and then sit up to look at him.

"So I'm your princess, but don't get the title?" She teased him, laughing gently.

"You're not a princess, you're my mate." He amended, trying to see where she was going with this.

"But you're the Prince of all Saiyans." She pointed out. "As your mate, that gives me some say-so."

Vegeta sighed. "The planet is gone and there are only two full-blooded Saiyans left, and you only out-rank one of us. And it's not me. Rule away."

"I will." She smiled. "But I want to know if I can beg the Royal Family for a boon."

The Saiyan went still. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "If you want a gift, just say so."

"I want to bite my husband."

Vegeta shook his head. "Woman, you don't give up."

"Ah, you love that about me."

"Yes." He said as he reached for her. "But a man could wish ..."

Bulma smiled and then dropped her mouth open as his words registered. "You love me?" She scooted back on the bed, out of reach.

Vegeta glared at her. "I did not say that, Woman."

"Yes you did." She whispered. "Oh Vegeta. Man, my man. My Saiyan Prince. I love you."

He stared at her a long moment, then grunted and nodded, accepting her declaration though offering nothing more in return.

Somehow, she knew that was all she was going to get. And it was all that she needed. For now. She'd seen the picture he had of her. She knew all she needed for right now at least. And the fact that he accepted her love, was simply amazing.

"Two Saiyans. That's all that's left. From here on in, it will be only half-bloods for the next generation. Basically a whole new race." She grinned full out.

Vegeta sighed again, not stupid. "New race, new traditions?" He guessed.

"Yes." She pointed at him.

Vegeta caught her finger and pulled her gently toward him. "No."

"You promised. And I don't demand the blood of my enemies. Just you. Here. Now."

A vein throbbed on the left side of Vegeta's eye and he sighed. He had promised, damn it. "Woman? You will reconsider."

Bulma could sense victory and stood up, turning him around to unbuckle his pants. Once he was bare, she pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"You would trust me at your back in a battle?" She asked as she knelt between his knees.

Vegeta eyed her cautiously. "So I have said."

"Prove it. Prove you trust me." Bulma leaned in and carefully blew across the head of his manhood. While Vegeta might have qualms about what was coming next, his penis did not. Already at half-mast, it stood to immediate attention.

"Once. Once only." He warned her. "And only for a minute."

Bulma's tongue moved out to trace the head of his member and Vegeta visibly shuddered, unable to stop himself as fire moved through his veins. "We'll see." She promised as she moved to take him in hand ...and in mouth.

.III

A hoarse shout of victory and pleasure fairly shook the rafters of the huge house.

Bulma's mother looked up curiously from where she was feeding baby Trunks, who didn't appear to notice anything except that the flow of food had paused. He batted at his grandmother's hand until she started feeding him again.

"A storm? Perhaps you should put up the boards to protect the windows, dear." She said, peering outside at the perfectly beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky except one or two white puffs moving lazily in the nice breeze.

Dr. Briefs looked up at the ceiling, blushed and looked back down at his paper. "Maybe I just need to check the soundproofing." He coughed and turned the page. "Later. Much later."

Baby Trunks took the spoon from his grandmother and put it in his mouth, upside down. Immediately Bulma's mother lost all interest in the 'storm' and started clapping her hands in delight.

.III

Panting, sweating, and very, very pleased, Vegeta looked up at the ceiling. He could feel Bulma moving up beside him, and he lifted an arm to make room for her.

His mate settled in beside him, resting her chin on his chest and giving him a smug look. "Well?"

Vegeta squeezed her and nodded. "The Royal Family agrees with the petition to begin this new tradition."

Bulma grinned and kissed his chest, laying her head against him, listening to his heart beat.

"However ..."

The turquoise-haired woman looked up. "Huh?"

"More research on the matter would not be a bad idea." Vegeta said decisively.

Bulma grinned. "Oh, you want me to do that again sometime. I thought it was just once ...and just for a minute?" They'd already blown the time limit to pieces anyway.

Vegeta gave her an unreadable look and rolled her onto her back. Bulma squealed with surprise then grinned up at him. "What are you doing?"

"Researching the new Saiyan tradition." He told her gruffly, then began to kiss his way down her body. Bulma's eyes went wide, then closed in appreciation.

"Let's hear it for research. Rah, rah ...RAH! Oh yes, right there!" She moaned, arching her back as she lay with her own personal Saiyan Prince.

She loved him.

And one day, one day ...maybe he could give her the words in return. But love was there. Love was definitely there. You just had to translate it from Saiyan to Earth and back again.

.III

Fini.

And no, I have never before ended a story on a lemon. But with these two it seems fairly right. Hope you enjoyed! I know I did.