Trunks Saga 6
As the rest of the Z-Fighters gathered, it became glaringly obvious to all that they held a deep-seated distrust of Vegeta. Whispers flitted through the air like anxious butterflies, as each member silently questioned the Saiyan prince's true intentions.
Krillin found himself slightly intrigued by Vegeta's activities. Although he didn't fully trust the man, he placed his faith in Bulma, Gohan, ChiChi, and Piccolo, whose judgments he valued highly. He and Yamcha shared a mutual skepticism, determined to keep a watchful eye on Vegeta. They wanted to ensure that he harbored no ulterior motives against Earth or anything related to the precious Dragon Balls, which had always been a source of both hope and peril.
However, Krillin's interest quickly turned to boredom as days passed, and he found that Vegeta seemed to train exclusively with Piccolo or within the confines of Capsule Corp. The monotony weighed heavily on him; he yearned for a more vigorous training routine, yet he felt a gnawing discouragement. His best friend was absent, and that absence left a void that made it difficult to muster the enthusiasm he once had for pushing his limits.
Yamcha had remained in the vicinity of Capsule Corp for quite a while, seemingly motivated by a desire to keep an eye on Bulma. As the days went by, he soon learned that she spent the majority of her time secluded in her room, a fact that both puzzled and concerned him.
This coincided with Vegeta's decision to stay in the same place to train, a choice that struck Yamcha as odd but ultimately not worth questioning. He respected her privacy and chose to leave her alone, though he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss in the air, a tension he couldn't quite put his finger on.
Bulma sat hunched over her computer, eyes riveted to the monitor's glowing screen. The feed displayed Vegeta, clad in what appeared to be dark blue shorts that clung tightly to his muscular thighs, revealing far more than she had bargained for. Though a voice in the back of her mind whispered that this was a gross invasion of privacy, Bulma couldn't tear herself away from the captivating sight.
She knew it was wrong, deeply so, to spy on the proud Saiyan warrior as he trained alone in solitude. Yet curiosity had taken hold with an iron grip, and Bulma found herself repeatedly succumbing to temptation, stealing glances whenever he ventured out for his daily exercises under the guise of innocent coincidence. Each time she clicked play on that forbidden video feed felt like crossing a line, but one she just couldn't seem to resist.
Vegeta remained blissfully unaware of her voyeuristic transgressions behind his closed door. Unbeknownst to him, his every movement now played out like a tantalizing performance for her guilty eyes alone.
All of a sudden, the camera feed went dark, plunging her into an unsettling silence, and a deep rumbling reverberated through the area, shaking the very foundations of the building. Panic surged through her veins as she swiftly closed her laptop and bolted from the room, her heart racing as she hurried toward the training chamber where Vegeta was.
"Vegeta… Vegeta, are you okay?" she called out, her voice laced with concern despite her efforts to mask it. Anyone observing her would see through her facade; the worry etched across her face was unmistakable, a clear testament to her anxiety for the proud Saiyan Prince. As she reached the doorway, it swung open, and Vegeta emerged, drenched in sweat, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. For a fleeting moment, his eyes reflected an emotion that was rare for him, before they settled back into their familiar intensity, the familiar fire returning to his gaze.
"…I am fine, woman. Pay no heed. I just need to relax and heal," he whispered, his tone somewhat odd, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as her.
She observed him closely, noting the way he attempted to take it lightly. Yet, despite his bravado, she could see his body slightly shaking, the tension in his muscles betraying the calm facade he was trying to maintain. There were no major wounds visible, but the signs of exhaustion were apparent. Instead of feeling relieved, anger welled up inside her.
"YOU STUBBORN IDIOT! What did you do in there? Did you not think to get out sooner or call for help?" she exclaimed, frustration lacing her voice like a bitter poison.
Vegeta met her gaze, confusion sat in place before he attempted to level it into a stern glare. "I have no time for this. I need to go heal," he replied, his tone clipped and resolute.
Her agitation flared further, a tempest of emotions swirling within her. "Oh, no, no, no! You follow me NOW!" she demanded, her voice rising in urgency.
Without warning, she grasped his hand firmly, compelling him to follow her with an unyielding determination. To her surprise, Vegeta offered no resistance; instead, he allowed her to guide him, his expression a mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance at her sudden display of authority.
They entered a spacious room, and she turned to him with a commanding tone. "You sit here and wait," she demanded, her voice brooking no argument, before swiftly exiting the room to return with supplies.
The room was large, bathed in a calming blue tint that enveloped the space like a tranquil sea. A sizeable bed dominated one corner, its plush comfort inviting, while a singular desk sat in the opposite corner, its surface cluttered with various items that hinted at a life lived in this place.
She reentered the room, her movements brisk and efficient as she approached Vegeta with a medical kit in hand. She began tending to his wounds, her focus unwavering as she worked with precision. However, it was evident that her attention was not solely on her task; she kept casting surreptitious glances at his body as if assessing him in a way that went beyond mere medical concern.
Wrapping a bandage around his arm, she finished her work and stood back, a look of satisfaction etched on her face.
"OK, done," she announced, a smirk playing on her lips. "Now you can start thanking me, saying how great I am for helping you," she continued, her tone laced with sarcasm.
To her surprise, Vegeta reached out with one hand and grasped her cheeks firmly, his fingers digging into her skin. Bulma froze, her eyes wide with confusion as she met his intense gaze.
"I was scared," Vegeta whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, revealing a vulnerability that was seldom seen. Bulma's eyes softened somewhat, a mixture of surprise and empathy washing over her as she processed the admission.
Their faces etched closer in the silence, both comfortable within each other's presence, an unspoken connection thickening the air between them. Bulma opened her mouth, ready to speak, but before she could form the words, Vegeta leaned in and pressed his lips gently against hers. The unexpected kiss sent a jolt through her, igniting a spark of warmth that spread from her lips to her heart, leaving her momentarily breathless.
As Vegeta's lips met Bulma's, the world around them seemed to melt away. The kiss was unexpected and passionate, igniting a fire within her that she hadn't felt in years. His lips were firm yet gentle, demanding yet coaxing, drawing her into a whirlwind of sensations she couldn't resist.
Bulma found herself frozen, caught between her instincts to push him away and her body's desire to lean into his embrace. Her mind raced with conflicting thoughts, questions swirling about why she was allowing this alien warrior to hold her so close. She knew she could break free from his grip at any moment, but something kept her rooted in place, her hands inexplicably moving to wrap around his back as if of their own accord.
The electric currents coursing through her body left her breathless and disoriented. It was as if every nerve ending was alight with sensation, overwhelmed by the intensity of his kiss. She knew she should regain control, and reassert her dominance over the situation, but it seemed like an insurmountable task. Instead, she found herself surrendering to the moment, embracing the unfamiliar heat rising within her.
When Vegeta finally pulled back, Bulma felt adrift, left gasping for air as if surfacing from deep water. Her heart pounded in her chest and her head swam with hazy thoughts. She couldn't remember feeling so affected by a simple kiss before; certainly not one from someone as unlikely as Prince Vegeta.
He gazed at her with an enigmatic expression, a flicker of triumph in his eyes that told Bulma he knew full well how much he'd gotten under her skin. Despite the confusion churning inside and the lingering shock of what had just transpired between them, a thrill of excitement coursed through her veins. For all that she'd always been one to rise to meet any challenge thrown her way - be it saving Earth or building machines beyond anyone else's imagination - there was something undeniably tantalizing about letting someone else take control for once.
As they stood there locked in a silent stare-down amidst the fading embers of their explosive kiss, Bulma recognized with startling clarity just how badly she was losing herself to this strange game they played together now. A part of her reveled in it even as another fought against yielding ground so easily.
In that charged moment when Vegeta finally released his hold on her face and stepped back on his own accord after one last smoldering glance at the sight of lips reddened by his attentions...Bulma felt bereft almost immediately; bereft of warmth and touch and contact like an addict cut off cold turkey after that first sweet taste only made him crave more.
She needed desperately then either some quip biting enough to restore equilibrium or else an ultimatum clear enough that neither party could mistake its weight...but all words died unsaid behind pursed lips gone suddenly dry.
Because faced down by those black eyes dark and fathomless as space itself still watching over high cheekbones starkly flushed beneath smooth blue-black hair tousled artlessly by restless fingers...all thought fled clean outta there too.
Leaving nothing left but mute wonder winding around quickened breaths, each inhale sharp and electric, as if the very air crackled with unspoken possibilities.
Wonder over what exactly had just happened, an enigmatic moment that seemed to stretch infinitely, leaving behind echoes of laughter and unguarded glances that danced tantalizingly in her mind.
And where on earth this new road might lead next time their paths crossed again, a tantalizing thought that spun her imagination into a whirlwind of potential encounters, each one more thrilling and uncertain than the last.