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The national training complex in West City always shut down at nine.
At approximately nine-oh-two, the last stragglers cleared out.
By nine-thirty, every coach, intern, and athlete badge deactivated automatically, then it would reactivate at six a.m. sharp.
Except for one.
Vegeta had special clearance - which he’d earned, of course - to train alone after hours. Although it was not because he was friendly with the staff or good at schmoozing sponsors. He hated that shit.
No, no it was because he was the only elite gymnast in the program who produced his best work when no one was watching.
Of course, they’d all tried to force daytime routines on him. Nappa, his coach, had verbally battered him. Harangued him. Gotten on his ass about maintaining proper circadian rhythms and having no one around if he happened to hurt himself, or some bullshit. Piccolo, his manager, had been slightly more lenient, albeit still disapproving.
But Vegeta had refused to listen every time.
His skill wasn’t the only reason other competitors feared him.
His secrecy was.
Nobody had film of his current full ring set. No one had ever seen his full pommel routine. Nappa claimed even he didn’t know everything Vegeta did after dark. The man was half legend, half ghost, and whoever he was in the daylight hours of the gym was nothing compared to the shadow version who existed between nine and midnight.
And tonight was supposed to have been one of those nights.
The gym was finally completely dead. Chalk dust hung in the air. The rings were swaying slightly from his warm-up set, and his muscles were trembling from the static hold he’d just pushed farther than he meant to.
But no matter how difficult things got, he enjoyed practicing his craft this way.
No audience.
No ridiculous music or clapping.
No distractions.
And above all else - No one stealing his technique. Especially not that clown, Kakarot or his idiot brother, Raditz.
Which was why, when Vegeta heard the thunk of the gym door shutting, he surely snapped to attention.
He turned quickly to face the sound.
And saw a woman.
Bulma Briefs to be specific.
Oh he knew her. Capsule Corp’s little darling and not so coincidentally, the daughter of their CEO. They were also the biggest sponsors of the Olympic team that year.
He’d seen her on and off before.
But there was one specific encounter they’d had three weeks ago which had left him seeing red.
He’d been in one of the smaller gyms arguing with a junior tech about a too short strap on the rings he’d been doing some standard daytime drills on. The kid had kept insisting the calibration measurements were correct.
Vegeta had been two seconds away from ripping the entire apparatus down and rebuilding it himself when a voice cut through the chaos.
“Maybe if you stop bellering at my tech long enough to measure that strap with the proper instrument, you’ll see if there’s an actual problem or not.”
He turned.
She was leaning nonchalantly in the doorway with a coffee in her hand. She’d been wearing some sort of red mini dress that had barely encased her thick, creamy, mouthwatering thighs.
Not that he’d been looking, of course.
She had also been neither intimidated nor impressed by him. And she had definitely not been apologetic about inserting herself in the conversation.
Vegeta had bristled immediately.
“Who the hell are you?”
“The hell I am is Bulma Briefs, sweetheart. And I’m the person fixing the thing you’re about to break,” she replied calmly.
She brushed straight past him, close enough that he felt the heat of her body, and shoved her coffee into his shocked hand without even looking at him, muttering something under her breath about amateurs.
Before he could snap at her, she crouched beside the ring frame and pulled a slim laser gauge from her hip pocket. The movement made her dress ride up to a level that bordered on criminal, and Vegeta jerked his gaze away on instinct…only to find the junior tech openly staring.
He’d bopped the kid on the back of the head, silently and sharply, then set his gaze to the way she worked.
A red beam flicked on.
She aimed it, checked the digital readout, then scoffed loudly enough for both men to hear.
“Yep, that’s your problem,” she said. “You’re eyeballing everything like it’s 1995.”
The tech had smirked triumphantly.
Vegeta stared.
She clicked the gauge again, confirming the measurement. Vegeta moved forward, looking down at the gauge.
“Your strap lengths are both equal and both well within spec.” Then she’d held up the laser display numbers right in Vegeta’s face.
Before he could answer, she stood, brushing some invisible dust from her knees.
“And honestly,” she added, snatching her coffee back from his hand, “why the hell are you trusting that old measuring tape?” She jerked her chin toward the tape hanging on the wall. “Get a digital gauge before you kill each other.”
She tucked the laser tool back into her pocket with a little flourish.
Then she’d looked him up and down. And the look she’d given him had not been innocent.
“I know who you are, Vegeta Prince. I’ve seen your work. And your reputation as a hard ass precedes you.”
He crossed his arms and responded with a very eloquent, “Hmph.”
“But I think you’ll find that I can handle myself just fine with hard asses.” She winked, and his eyes widened. “Anyway, try not to break my equipment next time.”
Then she’d turned and sauntered out.
Vegeta didn’t move for a full ten seconds. Mostly for fear he’d pop a full blown stiffy from the half chub he was currently sporting in his gym shorts and completely embarrass himself.
His body still tingled where she’d brushed past him, and the scent of her fruity floral perfume lingered in the room long after she’d gone.
He’d told himself she was preposterous and he’d been annoyed and tired, but he knew deep down none of that was true.
He’d thought about her that night. And the night after. And…several nights more. Too many to count, if he were honest. Thought about her body, her voice, her brain, her attitude. Thought about the way she’d looked him dead in the eyes like she could see straight through his bullshit.
It made him furious.
It also made him achingly hard, and he’d found himself seeking relief far too often for his liking and with great concern for the general well being of his right wrist.
Aside from that, however, he never - not once - had planned on seeing her again.
But now here she was, standing by the equipment cabinet, some sort of tablet in her hand and a bag on her shoulder. She wore a short, stretchy, curve hugging pink dress that was nearly identical to the red one he’d seen her in before. Her teal-blue hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she was sporting a too-smart expression for someone who was poking around somewhere she absolutely wasn’t supposed to be.
“What the hell?” he muttered under his breath.
She didn’t appear to notice him at first. She was angled toward a different set of rings, scanning them with her device, then tapping in readings.
He felt himself grow even more heated.
Her.
In his after-hours sanctuary.
Vegeta dropped from the rings in one controlled swing, landing silently on the mats despite the adrenaline spiking through him.
She finally looked up.
And froze.
He saw her eyes widen when she took him in, shirtless, chalk-covered, chest still rising and falling from the effort of his practice. That flash of recognition lasted only a second before she recovered.
“Gods, Vegeta, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here so late?” she asked.
He stepped forward, ignoring her question. “Briefs. You’re not authorized to be here.”
She rolled her eyes, lifting her badge between two fingers, and gave it a little wave.
“Oh please. You know that’s not true.”
“Badge or not,” he growled, “the gym closes at nine, and you’re not on the roster.”
She snorted. “Neither are half the night-shift cleaners. Is your little gremlin ass going to chase them out, too?”
Little? Just who the hell did she think-
Before he could reply, she continued. “Listen, buddy, I’ve been in this building more hours than you this month. Don’t act surprised that I’m getting a little late night work done. And for the record?” she went on, moving into his space and tapping her finger lightly against his bare chest. “Don’t forget that Capsule Corp funds most of the equipment you’re currently sweating on. So unless your name is on the deed, I’m more authorized to be here than you.”
His jaw clenched. “Funding doesn’t buy you my private training time.”
“Relax, Prince. I’m not here to watch your special private time…unless you’d like me to.” She smirked.
That pulled a reluctant heat to his cheeks. Her gaze drifted over his shoulders, his arms, the sweat-damp cut of his waist. Then her pretty pink tongue slid out, catching a stripe of cherry-red gloss from her lip.
He wondered suddenly if it tasted like strawberries.
His stomach dropped, then tightened. He’d never felt so simultaneously enraged and turned on in his life.
“Are you done posturing?” she asked softly, stepping fully into his space. “Or do you need a minute? I’d like to get back to work.”
His breath stuttered traitorously. The flicker of satisfaction in her eyes made him want to snarl. Heat licked up his spine, and before common sense could catch him, he closed the minute gap between them.
“What are you scanning with that…thing?” he demanded.
Bulma didn’t look intimidated. If anything, she looked amused.
“I’m collecting apparatus dimensions.” She tapped her tablet. “We’re starting a muscle mechanics study on force distribution in upper-body events. Tomorrow I’ll be putting sensors on a gymnast to record his routine. Actually, Son Goku volunteered.”
Vegeta felt the vein in his forehead begin to pulse. “Like hell he did.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What, are you jealous or something?”
“Stringing up Kakarot for data?” Vegeta scoffed. “I’ll break every one of those sensors before I let you hand him an advantage.”
She chuckled. “Relax. The raw numbers mean nothing without technique…which apparently only you have, I guess.”
She brushed past him to walk toward the rings. He moved with her, cutting her off easily, standing just close enough that she’d have to acknowledge him. Just close enough that he could see her pulse jump at the base of her throat.
She backed up automatically and bumped into a wide support column in the center of the room. Her chin lifted, shoulders squaring.
His hand came up beside her head with a soft thud against the column.
“I’ll ask you again,” he said, voice dropping. “Are you here to watch me?”
Bulma’s gaze skimmed down his torso and back up. “For fuck’s sake, no. I’m watching the equipment.”
“Funny,” he muttered. “The equipment isn’t the thing you keep staring at.”
She snorted, but her cheeks flushed just a shade. “Woow. You know, your ego could count as a whole separate event.”
“This gym is locked at night,” Vegeta responded lowly. “These are my hours. And now you’re here, pointing toys at my routine. You expect me to believe that’s an accident?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes again, repeating herself to him as if he were stupid.
“Vegeta, I am here because this is literally my job. I am getting ready for a test run tomorrow so you people can measure micro-instabilities before you tear your shoulder joints apart.”
He raised an eyebrow, realizing how close he’d gotten and wondering just how he was going to get himself out of this situation. Luckily, she did it for him.
“Fine,” she said abruptly, slipping out from under his arm. “You want proof? I’ll show you.”
She crossed to the rings he had just been training on with that maddening, unconcerned stride and stopped under the apparatus.
“Come here,” she called, without looking back.
“No.”
She sighed, put a hand on her hip, and turned. “What? Worried I’ll decode all your precious secrets and sell them to the Australian team?”
He stalked toward her before he realized he’d moved. “They wouldn’t survive my program.”
“Then what are you afraid of?” she prodded. “Numbers on a screen?” Her voice dipped. “Or seeing exactly how much strain you’re putting on your body when you’re showing off to yourself in the dark? You know, there is a word for that…”
His jaw clenched.
“I don’t need your gadgets,” he growled.
“Maybe not.” She stepped closer again. “But you do need your shoulders. And it really sounds like you don’t want your buddy “Kakarot” to be the first data point in my study…”
He scoffed, knowing she was right.
She grinned. “So how about this? Let me start with you.”
His pulse thudded.
“Or,” she added, tilting her head, “are you really going to let Son Goku have better information than you?”
He stared at her, breathing just a little too fast. She did have a point. It couldn’t hurt after all…
“Fine…You can have your blasted way with me. Ten minutes,” he said. “That’s it.”
She clucked at him and pulled her bag off, digging around. “Oh baby. If I had my way with you, you really think ten minutes would cut it?”
His mouth opened, then closed again. Heat slammed into his face so hard it almost made him lightheaded.
If she kept talking like that, he was fucked.
“Now,” she continued. “Stand still.”
He didn’t trust his voice, so he just planted himself in front of her, feet locked, hands flexing uselessly at his sides.
Her fingers found the first sensor and then his skin.
She brushed along his abdomen, searching for placement. Her touch was precise and clinical, but his body didn’t care. Heat shot across his stomach, his muscles tightening under her hand. His breath hitched before he could stop it.
Her eyes flicked up at once.
“Problem?” she murmured, almost teasing.
“No.”
“This one measures both muscle tremor,” she said, placing it low on his oblique. “And also rotational force.”
Her fingertips skimmed his skin again as she withdrew.
His pulse hammered.
“And this next one,” she added, picking up the second sensor with a little curl of her fingers, “goes… a little lower.”
When she knelt, he began to internally panic, realizing what he’d just gotten himself into.
He was already pathetically hard from barely a few touches, and in thin spandex training shorts there was little she couldn’t see.
Her cherry-painted nails slid up his outer thigh. Then she stopped suddenly at the edge of the leg of his shorts and slowly, wickedly, tilted her chin upward.
Her gaze burned him as she slid her hand inside, placing the final sensor along the outer edge of his quad.
With a final smirk, hungry eyes tracked the length of his traitorous cock and then back up to his own.
A challenge.
If he were a lesser man, he would have come from just that look.
Vegeta tore himself away and walked toward the rings, because if he didn’t put his hands on something, he was going to put them all over her.
The nerve of her.
The fucking nerve.
But now he was in too deep, and now he needed to perform.
He reached the rings, grabbed some chalk, and slapped it onto his palms with more force than necessary.
This particular set of rings hung much lower than competition height, perfect for solo training and strength holds but nowhere near the towering set across the gym where he practiced dismounts with Nappa during the day.
He mounted the apparatus cleanly, muscle memory overriding the riot in his bloodstream, and lifted into a basic support hold. Except this time, the position wasn’t effortless. Every inch of him was wound tight and burning, his body hyper-aware of her presence below.
“Good,” she said from beneath him, tablet in hand, tone maddeningly steady. “Hold that.”
Her eyes flicked over him, up his arms, down his chest, lingering far too long at his hips.
She was pretending to take notes.
She wasn’t pretending well.
Vegeta flexed to smooth out the tremor in his shoulders, but it only sent more blood rushing lower. His breathing stuttered. He clenched harder. The metal frame creaked.
“You’re tense,” she said lightly. “It’s messing with the data.”
“You think?” he bit out.
A small hum of amusement escaped her.
She stepped closer, almost beneath him, and every muscle in his abdomen tightened in warning. She was too close. Close enough that if he lost even a fraction of control, he’d drop straight into her.
“Your core is overworking to compensate,” she announced, tapping something on her screen. “Probably because your mind is…elsewhere.”
His grip slipped a centimeter.
Her eyes snapped up to catch it.
“Oh?” she asked sweetly. “Is something distracting you?”
He looked down to see her gazing directly at his crotch.
Her lips were curved into a wicked grin.
Fuck, was this…this was actually happening.
“Vegeta,” she said softly, stepping right beneath him now, “you’re shaking.”
He growled under his breath, unwilling to yield to her just yet. “It’s your damn sensors.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Humiliation, lust and need barreled into one another over and over as he tried to hold the position.
Her voice dropped as she set the tablet down, then craned her neck up to look at him as he swayed shakily above her.
“How long can you hold that position?”
“Long enough,” he snarled.
She smiled.
"And what if," she continued, tilting her head, "your legs were on my shoulders? Could you hold it longer then?"
His elbows nearly gave out.
Bulma's eyes widened just a fraction, enough to betray that her teasing bravado wasn't as effortless as she pretended, and Gods, that made something hot and feral ignite in him.
She wanted him too.
Badly.
"Thought so," she whispered.
He was going to fall. He was going to fall, or he was going to do something infinitely worse.
But he didn't get the chance to find out, because she leaned in close enough that her breath warmed the inside of his thigh.
His entire body jolted.
She looked up at him, eyes bright, hungry, and absolutely sure of the effect she had on him.
His cock jumped visibly against the fabric of his shorts, and he knew that she saw it from the way her lips parted.
"You didn't answer my question," she said softly, her voice dropping lower. "How long can you hold a static hang with your legs on my shoulders? At least 30 seconds?"
He nearly laughed, the sound coming out strained. "I can last longer than that."
Her mouth transformed into a smile that he would have absolutely defined as evil if he'd had the ability to think much about it.
"I doubt that."
The challenge in her words sliced straight through him.
Then her mouth brushed the edge of his hip bone, just a whisper of contact, and the groan that tore from his throat was completely involuntary. If she didn't stop her ridiculous teasing and actually touch him soon, he was going to embarrass himself before she even started.
As if reading his mind, she slid her hands slowly up his thighs, her palms warm against his skin. Her fingers traced over his hips, thumbs drawing maddening circles just inches from where he desperately needed her, purposefully avoiding his straining cock. Then she stopped at the top of his shorts, her fingers sliding into the elastic.
"Tell me to stop," she breathed, her eyes locked on his.
He shook his head, not trusting his voice.
That was apparently all she needed.
Bulma hooked her fingers more firmly in his waistband and tugged his shorts down in one decisive pull, the fabric catching briefly on his cock before sliding down his thighs.
Cool air hit his overheated skin and he gasped, his back arching reflexively in mid-air. He felt obscenely bare like this, hanging above her with nothing to hide behind, completely exposed while she was still fully dressed beneath him.
For a heartbeat she just looked at him, her gaze traveling slowly from base to tip.
Her lashes fluttered once. Her pupils went wide, nearly swallowing the blue of her eyes. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as her gaze dragged over him hungrily, like she was memorizing every inch, every vein, the way he was already leaking for her.
He exhaled shakily, the sound more like a whimper than he'd care to admit.
Then, with no hesitation on her part, her hand closed warmly around him.
His whole body jerked violently, the sudden pressure on his aching length sending a spike of sensation straight up his spine. The rings creaked ominously with the force of his grip, the handles digging into his palms. Her hand was soft and warm and perfect, and it already felt like heaven - and she hadn't even done what he was desperately hoping she'd do.
"Hey, take it easy," she murmured, her thumb swiping over his tip and spreading the bead of moisture there. "You're gonna pull the whole apparatus down."
He couldn't do anything but shake, every muscle in his body locked tight.
His lungs forgot how to work. His arms trembled with the effort of staying still. And still, impossibly, he held on.
She let go of him, and his throat had the audacity to release a whimper at the loss, the sound echoing in the empty gym.
"Give me a second," she said with a breathy laugh, tugging his shorts the rest of the way down his legs and tossing them aside. She positioned herself more carefully beneath him, then lifted each of his legs and draped them over the tops of her shoulders, her hands steadying his thighs. She was the perfect height, and now his cock was nearly pressed against her face, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath ghosting over him. He had to look away from the obscene sight, staring up at the ceiling, jaw clenched, because if he kept watching he was going to lose it right there.
"Vegeta?" she questioned, her voice cutting through the haze.
He forced himself to look down at her again.
Her smile was a devious grin, satisfaction and hunger written all over her face. One he would very much like to make her pay for after this.
"Listen, I'm pretty sure you want me to keep going," she said, her breath hitting him with every word. "But I'm the kind of girl who likes explicit consent."
He swallowed audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing, as her lips came closer and closer to him, hovering just a breath away.
She looked up into his eyes once more, holding his gaze. "So do I have your permission to suck your pretty cock?" Her tongue darted out, nearly touching him but not quite. "While you hang from the rings like a good boy for me?"
Her vulgar words sent a buzz from his brain all the way to his spine, stealing the air from his lungs. All rational thought flooded away and pooled as mounting pressure low in his gut. Good boy. She'd called him a good boy, and instead of being offended he felt his cock twitch against her cheek.
She stared up at him, waiting, perfectly still except for the rise and fall of her chest.
His eyes bored into hers, trying to look intimidating and utterly failing as he hung there, trembling and exposed.
"Yes," he finally growled, the word coming out with far too much desperation for his liking.
Bulma grinned, triumph flashing in her eyes, and immediately leaned forward. She reached around his thick thigh to grasp him once more, her grip firm and confident. Then she licked the underside of him slowly, agonizingly slow, her tongue tracing from base to tip so he felt every inch of it. The wet heat made his vision blur at the edges.
Then she closed her mouth over him.
A strangled gasp fled his lips. His hands gripped the rings even tighter, knuckles going white. His thighs flexed helplessly against her shoulders.
Her mouth was so fucking hot, wet and tight around him. She was already working her tongue around his throbbing tip, swirling and licking, then dragging the flat of her tongue up his leaking slit, all the while working him with an obscene amount of suction that made his toes curl. He felt a familiar tingling spreading from the base of his balls, tightening everything inside him, and if he wasn't careful he'd come right onto her perfect little tongue and down her throat immediately and disgracefully.
"Fuck…Bulma - " His voice cracked.
In response, she hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper, her lips stretching around his girth. The warmth and pressure and rhythm were all immediately destroying every shred of discipline he'd ever honed, unraveling him completely. He tried not to thrust or break form and send them both crashing down, but every time she swallowed around him, his hips jerked forward automatically, seeking more.
Bulma pulled back just enough to breathe, her lips still brushing against his sensitive tip as she spoke. One hand slid around to grope his ass, squeezing firmly. "You taste so fucking good," she whispered, her breath making him twitch. "Don't hold back." She pressed a kiss to his tip. "I wouldn't want to have to explain how you injured yourself if I were you."
He swore violently, a string of curses that would've made anyone blush.
She took him again, deeper this time, relaxing her throat until he felt the back of it. Her tongue pressed along the sensitive underside of his shaft with maddening precision, and he nearly collapsed, his grip faltering for a terrifying second. His arms shook violently. His grip on one of the rings slipped, and he had to clench harder to recover. There was a burning in his thighs that radiated up through his spine, spreading outward to his abdomen, coiling tighter and tighter.
"Bulma - I'm about to - fuck - can't…hold on -"
She sucked harder, humming around him encouragingly, the vibration traveling through his entire body.
Vegeta broke.
His hips snapped forward in a helpless thrust into her mouth as a violent orgasm tore through him, stripping every breath from his lungs and ripping a shout from his throat. White-hot pleasure exploded behind his eyes. He groaned, the sound echoing loudly off the gym walls, head dropping back as wave after wave crashed over him, obliterating everything except the feeling of her mouth on him.
He felt like he was coming forever, pulse after pulse, his cock jerking in her mouth. But she swallowed everything, held him through every spasm, every tremor, her hands steadying his shaking thighs and keeping him from falling.
When the last aftershock finally rolled through him, he began to squirm, oversensitive and overwhelmed, somehow still clinging to the rings through sheer stubborn will. He pulled his legs shakily from her shoulders, and she took it as her cue to release him, pulling back slowly with one last soft kiss to his hip.
Finally, he let go.
He dropped to the ground, somehow managing to land in a crouch despite his trembling legs, then immediately fell backwards onto his ass, his limbs giving out completely. He sat there panting, chest heaving, staring up at the ceiling in a daze.
She smiled at him, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Fuck, that was impressive." Her eyes raked over him appreciatively, taking in his wrecked state. "Even better than I'd fantasized about."
Than she’d what?
She crouched next to him, handing him his shorts and waiting. His chest heaved, lungs burning as he dragged air back into them. His muscles still trembled, arms weak and rubbery from holding the rings, thighs shaking from the strain. But pride was a stubborn, vicious thing, and Vegeta refused to stay on his knees…or in this case, his ass, in front of her another second.
With a grunt, he pushed himself upright, ignoring the way his legs protested.
Bulma steadied him instinctively, her hand closing around his bicep.
A mistake on her part.
The moment her fingers touched his skin, he grabbed her wrist firmly.
"I'm not done," he rasped, his voice still rough and wrecked.
Her brows lifted, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Oh? You look pretty done, big guy."
He hated how true it was. His legs were still unsteady, his cock oversensitive where it hung heavy between his thighs. Which made what he did next necessary.
He pulled his shorts back on roughly, not bothering to adjust the cling of damp fabric around his still-sensitive cock, and dragged her with him across the mats toward the closest apparatus.
The pommel horse.
Without warning, he planted his hands on her hips and lifted her clean off the floor, setting her side saddle on the padded leather surface.
Thankfully for him, the pommels had been removed for maintenance earlier, leaving the surface smooth and unobstructed. There was room enough for two people.
"Vegeta, what -" she started, eyes wide.
"Straddle it."
The words came out gravelly and a little breathless, still ruined from the way she'd taken him apart, but commanding enough that she froze, her lips parting in surprise.
"Unless you wish to stop this little game, right now." He made it sound like a threat, leaning in close, but they both knew it was a question. An out, if she wanted it.
She shook her head slowly, and with her eyes locked on his, she swung one leg over the horse.
His knees nearly buckled when he saw she was not wearing any undergarments beneath that infernal dress.
Nothing. Not even a scrap of lace.
Bulma lowered herself slowly, pressing her bare, sopping pussy directly against the leather saddle, and the sound she made, a tiny, punched-out exhale, nearly undid him all over again. He could see the wetness already glistening on her inner thighs.
He stepped in close, his hands gripping the horse on either side of her hips, and lifted himself up to sit behind her. The position put his chest against her back, his thighs bracketing hers. He reached down and pulled at what remained of her dress, shoving the fabric up above her belly button and out of the way.
Then his hands slid up her bare thighs from behind, rough palms against soft skin, as he leaned in until his mouth was at her ear.
"You wanted to test my stability," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Now it's your turn."
She shivered hard, goosebumps erupting down her arms.
He nudged her forward with a light push of his fingers at her hips, just enough pressure to make her grind against the leather.
Bulma gasped, her legs tightening reflexively around the apparatus, and he felt the way her whole body tensed.
Vegeta smirked against her shoulder, unable to help himself. "Oh. Sensitive, are we?"
"I hate you," she breathed, but she was already rocking back and forth, seeking friction, her hips moving in circles.
"Liar."
He didn't touch her where he knew she wanted him to. Not yet. He just kept his hands on her hips, guiding the rhythm, making her work for it.
She tipped her head back against his shoulder, eyes closing, lips parted as soft sounds escaped her throat.
"That's it," he whispered against her ear. "Show me how you get yourself off."
She shot him a glare over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed. "You could help," she hissed, frustration evident in her voice.
"I am helping," he said, giving her hips another push forward, harder this time.
She let out a sound that made heat shoot straight to his groin again, his cock stirring despite having just come.
Her pace quickened into tiny movements, desperate friction against their makeshift seat, her breath turning ragged and uneven. Her hips dragged with each slow, obscene slide, dampening the spot underneath her visibly. He could see the leather darkening with her wetness, leaving a faint shining trace on the surface with every roll of her hips.
Vegeta stared at it, transfixed.
Holy hell.
He leaned forward once more, gathering her hair gently to one side and exposing the long line of her neck. He pressed his mouth to her pulse point and licked, tasting her skin. She tasted so fucking sweet - freshly showered, it appeared - the candied smell of her soap mixing with the salty taste of fresh sweat beginning to bead on her skin.
She shivered, whispering his name, and that's when he realized something. Something he probably should have noticed had he not been thinking with his dick a few minutes ago.
His hand snaked its way up her abdomen, fingers splaying wide over her soft skin, then up the front of her dress. He kept going until his palm closed over her bare breast.
No bra, nothing but warm, soft flesh filling his hand.
Which was the confirmation he'd been looking for.
"Did you fucking plan this?" he hissed, pulling her dress even higher with his other hand, exposing her completely. The fabric bunched above her breasts, leaving only her hard nipples and the soft undersides of her tits visible.
Her hands immediately covered his, pressing his palms more firmly against her breasts as she leaned back against his chest. The movement lifted her hips straight off the horse, leaving her completely open and exposed.
"Yes," she whispered, tilting her head back to look up at him with those big blue eyes, utterly shameless.
His pulse slammed brutally against his ribs, his heart threatening to break through bone. He stared down at her heaving chest, at the way her nipples peaked against his palms, while she continued to grind against the fucking horse he'd won a silver medal on at the semifinals last year.
"Been looking for you," she groaned, her voice breaking. "After that day we met. Took me forever to find out when you were training."
Her hands gripped tighter at his, her nails digging into his skin.
Fuck, but she was a sight. Hair disheveled, dress rucked up around her chest, completely wanton and unashamed.
He was hard as hell again, his cock straining against his shorts, and he began to rock against her back, seeking any friction he could get.
Leaning in once more, he sucked the delicate skin at the top of her ear into his mouth. She shivered violently and he smirked against her. "So you came here to fuck with me?"
Her thighs quivered on either side of the horse, her answer coming out as a desperate moan. "Yes. Wanted you. Couldn't stop thinking about you."
The confession went straight to his head…and his cock. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, willing himself to last and not just spill against her back through his shorts like an animal.
"Vegeta -" Her voice cracked, her movements growing erratic, less coordinated.
His entire body reacted to the desperation in her voice.
His right hand regretfully left her breast and slid down between her legs. His fingers finally made contact with her soaked slit, touching the heat radiating from her core, feeling the throbbing need she'd ground herself into.
She jerked violently at the contact, every breath coming louder now, punctuated with need. She pushed eagerly against his hand, seeking more pressure.
"Shh," he whispered against the curve of her neck, his lips brushing her skin. "Keep working it."
She whimpered, a broken sound that made his cock leak.
His fingers glided over her swollen clit, slick with her arousal. Bulma choked out a cry, her hips bucking involuntarily.
"Good girl," he growled before thinking. "Just like that."
Her whole body trembled against him, pressed back into his chest. Her pace stuttered, becoming uneven and frantic.
He began to rub her in small circles, the pads of his fingers finding a pace that she seemed to enjoy.
"Like that, Bulma?"
She arched up, nodding frantically, her eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open. She was completely lost in the sensation, chasing her release with single-minded desperation.
Her orgasm built faster than he expected, her body coiling tighter and tighter.
She began to shiver and shake, her skin flushing a glorious shade of pink that spread from her chest up her neck, then deepened to a bright red in her cheeks. She looked up at him through hooded, glassy eyes, and even with all his cocky bravado, he knew better than to say anything to break her concentration at this point. He just kept his fingers steady, maintaining the same pressure and rhythm.
Then her eyes completely closed. Her mouth fell open wider, her breath coming in desperate pants. It was a sight he'd never forget, her face slack with pleasure, completely undone.
Finally, her thighs clamped down hard around his hand, trapping it. Her back arched sharply, pressing her shoulder blades into his chest, and her breath tore out of her in a sharp, broken moan as she came hard. He felt her pulsing against his fingers, grinding down, her whole body trembling and shaking with the force of it.
Vegeta held her steady, his fingers wet with her release, his hand pressed firmly to her chest to keep her from toppling forward off the horse. He kept petting her gently, softer now, working her through her pleasure until she suddenly slapped his hand away with a weak, oversensitive whimper.
He let go as she wished, and she slumped forward against the saddle, her upper body collapsing, arms barely holding her up as she panted and shook.
Then she turned to look at him.
So of course, he slid the fingers that had just been between her thighs into his mouth without breaking eye contact.
Her lips parted at his actions, watching him intently as his eyes rolled back into his head at her taste. She was sweet and salty. So fucking delicious that he wasn't sure if he could ever live without it again after only a few drops on his tongue.
This was a dream. It had to be a dream.
She wiggled against him, and suddenly he remembered his aching dick pressing against her.
He wanted to pull her down, take her on one of the crash pads, but he was too worked up to even move.
"Bulma," he warned.
She grinned at him in a way that he knew was trouble. Then, gripping the horse for balance, she carefully turned herself around to face him, her legs sliding along the leather until she was straddling his lap.
"Do you think," she whispered, her breath burning against his mouth, "you could fuck me like this?"
"Fuck," he groaned, pulling his shorts down and under his balls in one swift motion. This was absolutely reckless and stupid and idiotic and…
She wiggled herself closer, positioning herself over him, sliding up and down on the end of his cock.
And…he suddenly forgot what he had been thinking.
Gripping the horse behind himself with one hand for support, he angled himself and slid into her, burying himself in one complete motion. They both gasped in unison.
She was so tight and wet, and either still throbbing from her recent orgasm or gearing up for another one.
She braced herself on his shoulders and began to move, rolling her hips and bouncing gently in his lap.
He moved as well, snapping his hips up on every one of her downward strokes. His quads began to burn with the effort to simply hold on, to keep them both balanced.
"Fuck," she growled against his neck, biting and lapping at his skin there. "Fuck, you're so hot. Feel so good."
He wanted to respond, but was beyond words at that point, eager to not tip over too quickly by the simple visual of her breasts still spilling out of her dress as she rode him, her face flushed and desperate.
Instead, he reached between them, knowing he wouldn't last much longer, and began to stroke at her swollen clit once more.
Bulma cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her nails biting through his skin.
"More," she gasped. "More - please - "
He could feel her start to squeeze deliciously around his cock, the movement beginning to set him off.
Fuck…he was going to come before her, and he wasn't going to be able to help himself. His fingers picked up the pace.
Somehow, she must have known the predicament he was in, and it must have turned her on all the more, because she began encouraging him, her words filthy and desperate as she ground down on him.
"Fuck - I can feel you throbbing inside me -" she gasped against his mouth, not quite kissing him.
"You're going to come, aren't you?" Her breath hitched as his fingers worked faster. "Want to feel it - "
"Come inside me, Vegeta-" She was practically whimpering now. "Please - fuck - I need it -"
With a shudder, he shot off like a rocket, finishing with an involuntary thrust that pushed him fully inside her as he spilled into her heat.
Almost immediately, the mess he'd made began leaking out of her and down her thighs, but she kept grinding against him with hot little squelches and whimpers, desperately seeking her end as well. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her face twisted in frustration and need.
Hearing her desperation snapped him out of the daze he was in. Before she could protest, he gripped her hips and pulled out of her, lifting her up and off him in one smooth motion.
"No-wait -" She looked at him with wild, confused eyes, her chest heaving. "I was so close -"
He slid shakily off the horse, his legs unsteady beneath him, and looked up at her. "Stay there."
Her breath caught as understanding flickered across her face.
Thankfully, the apparatus was the perfect height. He reached up and carefully maneuvered her, turning her body until she was sitting side saddle once more, her legs dangling off the edge. She was trembling, her thighs slick with sweat and the evidence of what they'd just done.
Without ceremony, he pushed her legs open wide, exposing her completely. She was a mess, swollen and pink, his release dripping out of her in thick rivulets. The sight made his spent cock twitch with interest despite having just finished.
He dove in headfirst, his tongue flattening against her clit as he lapped up his own spend from her sensitive flesh. She tasted like both of them now, salt and musk and something uniquely her underneath it all.
"Vegeta -!" Her voice cracked and her entire body bowed off the horse, her back arching sharply.
He didn't let up, using his fingers to push his release back into her aching hole while his mouth worked her clit with broad, firm strokes. She was so swollen, so sensitive, that every pass of his tongue made her jerk and gasp.
She grabbed at his hair with both hands, holding on for dear life as he devoured her, her thighs trembling on either side of his head.
"Oh fuck - oh fuck -" The words tumbled out of her in a breathless rush.
He could feel her getting closer, the way her thighs started to shake harder, the way her hips rolled against his face seeking more pressure. He doubled down, sucking her clit into his mouth while curling his fingers inside her.
Her breathing hitched, the rhythm of it turning frantic and uneven.
"Vegeta - I'm - oh gods - I'm gonna -"
She shattered with a broken cry, her entire body going rigid before dissolving into tremors. He felt her clench rhythmically around his fingers as she came wetly, her release mixing with his own and dripping down his chin too quickly for him to lap it all up. He tried anyway, groaning against her as he worked her through it, the taste of her flooding his senses.
Her hands loosened in his hair, her grip going slack as the waves crashed over her.
He slowed his movements, licking her more softly with gentle passes of his tongue that made her whimper and twitch. Her thighs trembled violently around his head now, oversensitive and spent.
When she started to push weakly at his shoulders, he relented, pressing one last soft kiss to her inner thigh before pulling back.
Then he slid her down carefully, supporting her weight as her feet touched the ground. She immediately sagged against him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her upright as he brought them face to face.
They were both weak and glossy-eyed from the pleasure and strain, their bodies slick with sweat, their breathing still ragged. Her legs were shaking so badly she could barely stand, and his own weren't much better.
For a long moment, they just stared at each other, too shattered to speak.
Finally, Bulma broke the silence, sighing contentedly against him.
“That was perfect.”
He grunted as reality began creeping back in, the sudden awareness that he had just fucked (and been fucked by) this woman on several surfaces of his workplace hitting him like a bucket of cold water.
Bulma pulled back and studied his face for a second.
Then she rolled her eyes.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”
Before he could ask what she meant, she pulled him in and kissed him.
Hard.
For a moment Vegeta forgot how to stand.
Her mouth was warm, insistent, tasting faintly of sweat and something sweet. His brain, already mush from everything that had just happened, simply…stopped working.
When she finally pulled back, he realized he must have been staring at her like he’d been hit in the head.
“…what was that for?” he managed hoarsely.
Bulma shrugged like it had been the most obvious thing in the world.
“You looked like you were about to doom spiral.”
He cleared his throat, suddenly aware again of the state of her dress. With an awkward sort of care that surprised even him, he tugged the fabric back down over her breasts and hips.
He could feel his ears burning.
Bulma noticed immediately.
She grinned.
“So,” she said casually, with a peck to his cheek like they simply did this all the time, “do you want to get dinner sometime? I’m free tonight, even.”
He blinked at her.
“We just-”
“Yeah.”
“In the middle of-”
“Yep.”
He stared for another second, still slightly drunk on her kiss…on her…her. Just her.
“…yes,” he finally said.
Bulma’s grin widened.
“Great.”
And just like that she moved off, plucked the sensors from his body, collected her things, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked toward the exit like nothing unusual had happened at all.
The door swung shut behind her.
Vegeta stood there, staring at it. He needed to forget about her. He needed to train. To win gold even though Kakarot had already done so many times before him, to…to…
His stomach growled.
He also supposed he needed to eat.
Maybe…just this once he could…
Vegeta sighed. “…Unbelievable.”
He lasted about four seconds before grabbing his shirt and jogging after her.