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It’s not uncommon for you to spend a couple hours after a training day patching everyone up. Sure, the Saiyans have faster healing than regular humans, but even they need stitches most days. 

Right now, it’s Yamcha. He’s not always still, and he tries to talk the whole time, but you know it’s just a coping mechanism for the pain.

“Tch,” Vegeta scoffs from where he’s lounging in the chair behind you. “Man up, Yamcha. It’s just a few stitches.”

Yamcha turns his head, “Hey, Vegeta! Not all of us are soulless like you. Some of us still feel pain. 

“Why you slimy little bast-”

“Stop it!” 

You turn your head to look back at the Saiyan with a scowl on your lips. Your eyes are narrowed and the sight alone makes him turn his head, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Sorry, Yamcha, I know it hurts,” you murmur to him, running a thumb down his bicep. “Give me just a few more minutes and it’ll all be over, okay sweetie?”

The fighter blushes at the nickname, distracted long enough for you to clean out his last wound and pull it back together with a butterfly bandage. Yamcha kisses you on the cheek and hops down from the hospital bed, flashing Vegeta a glare before finally walking out the back door. 

“Alright, Krillin! Your turn!”

Vegeta’s head spins, “E-Excuse me?! I was here first!”

You sigh, “What are you, ten? Humans first, Saiyan. You heal faster, most of your wounds will already be fine before I can touch them with a suture.”

Vegeta clicks his tongue and his nostrils flare, “Tch, you rude little earthling. I should be the first one you tend to. I am Prince-”

The Mighty Prince Vegeta!” You roll your eyes, mimicking his voice as best you can. You sigh, encouraging Krilling to hop up onto the bed, “Vegeta, it would be a waste of supplies. Look, your eyebrow has already healed since I started. I would’ve wasted two or three stitches on that if I tended to you first.”

As you speak, you start to clean Krillin’s various wounds. He has a few on his face, but it’s mostly his knuckles. He chuckles as you rub the antiseptic on his bloody hands, “Goku’s a lot stronger than he used to be. Even when I can land a punch, I take damage almost as much as he does!”

“Aw, Krillin! You’re still one of the best warriors I know!” Goku chimes from across the room where he’s sucking down a protein shake. You smile at the two, wrapping bandages around both of Krillin’s knuckles to seal the wounds from outside air.

“You’re the best, doc!” Krillin flexes his hands just enough to get comfortable underneath the cloth bandages. He grins up at you and squeezes your bicep before leaping down from the table and rushing out of the room to go grab something to eat. 

You turn to tell Goku that it’s his turn, but Vegeta is already on the bed, eyes dark and insistent, lips in a fine line.

“Excuse me?” you raise a brow, “Did I call your number?”

“You didn’t give me a number, woman,” Vegeta crosses his arms, looking down on you in such a way that he’s trying to make you feel small. “It’s my turn.”

Shaking your head, you point to Goku, “I think I said Goku was after Krillin.”

“I will not let you treat that low-class Saiyan before me.” Vegeta swallows and turns so he can remove his shirt. You have to hold in a gasp at the sight of his physique so close in front of you. You’ve seen it a dozen times before - Vegeta has been here for years now. And yet, every time he moves, it captures your attention. You’d never tell him, though. He’d either scoff at you or reprimand you for gawking at his royal body. 

Goku says something along the lines of sure, treat Vegeta first because he’s kind and caring, and so you shut your mouth and break out the antiseptic wipes and start working on his cuts. 

Vegeta sits still, his eyes trained on you as you work. Your hands are quick, washing his wounds before stitching and bandaging them back together. You worked alongside Bulma to engineer a medical spray that accelerates healing, but you don’t use it on the Saiyans unless there is a really horrible injury and no senzu beans at the ready. Still, his eyes are boring into you, forcing a blush to creep up your neck and onto your cheeks. It makes your hands sweat and you almost lose a suture. 

“Can you quit that?” you snap finally, yanking a stitch through on his bicep. 

His brow raises and he leans away from you, snarling at the feel of the stitch tearing through his skin. 

“Why you little bi-”

“I dare you to finish that sentence.”

Your hands are on your hips and your eyes are narrowed, daring him with your facial expressions just as much as your words. He does not budge, the both of you locked in some sort of staring battle. You blink but do not waver, even when you feel his knees knock against your thighs. 

Finally he breaks, turning to look downward at his cracked boot. You’re sure he has some sort of bruised bone that is bothering him, but that’s not what you’re focused on right now. 

“If you’d stop looking at me like I was the enemy, this would go much quicker.” You pull on his arm, tying off another suture. “You’re making me very self-conscious of what I’m doing.”

Vegeta sighs, reconnecting your gaze after another moment. You swear he might just apologize, but the thought dies when no words escape from his lips after a second too long of waiting. You scoff and wrap up the wound on his arm, moving to research the wounds on his face. 

“Mostly bruising,” you murmur, running your thumb over a yellowed spot on his jawline. You shake your head, “You’ve got a split in your lip and in your brow, but with your metabolism, they should heal before the day is over. No stitches needed.”

Vegeta nods, a silent thank you. You know that you’ll never receive a verbal one, so you take what you can get around the proud Saiyan warrior. A sigh escapes your lips and you find your thumb brushing over the shallow split in his lower lip, imagining for a mere moment what his mouth would taste like on yours. 

The Saiyan Prince steps down from the bed and your chests brush. His usual scowl turns to a gentle smirk and you know that is as close to a smile as you’ll get any time soon. 

“Don’t get your ass kicked next time,” you mumble, tracing the bandage on his bicep. “And go raise that foot. I know it’s bothering you, but the bruise will wear off in time, especially if you keep it elevated or on ice.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He’s supposed to be patronizing you, but the way it comes out from his mouth makes the both of you blush. 

Goku pushes his way through the two of you to sit on the table, “Okay, my turn!”

You laugh, turning towards the child-like fighter with a fresh canister of bandaging spray in one hand and sutures in the other. “All right, Goku. Let me take a look at you.”

As Vegeta is walking away, his pride is wounded when he hears you and his rival laughing like life-long friends. He carries this burden on his shoulders, always striving for your attention, but always falling short.

In a fleeting moment, the prince wonders when he’ll ever be enough.


Bulma is famous for her massive cook outs. She orders the food and schedules the entertainment, all everyone else has to do is show up. You walk in with Tien’s arm threaded through your own, your head laid against his shoulder as you two share conversation on the way into the gathering. 

“Thanks for the ride, Tien,” you say, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “Just let me know when you’re ready to head out, okay?”

He nods and heads over to Yamcha and Krillin, making conversation. You turn to the pool and find your way to Bulma and Chi-Chi, grabbing a fruity drink off of one of the waiters on your way.

“You always outdo yourself, Bulma.” You get yourself comfortable in the afternoon sun, the warmth from the gentle golden glow falling on the exposed skin of your legs. You smile, turning to tap your drink against hers before taking a long sip. “What are we celebrating this time?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to throw a party!” Bulma giggles, her hand against her chest. She tips her sunglasses down to look you in the eyes, “I saw you came in with Tien? What’s that all about?”

Turning so you can look at her, you rest your chin on your palm, “He offered me a ride. Literally! We flew here!”

Chi-Chi raises a brow while fighting a smirk. She chuffs, “Better not let him get alone with Vegeta, then. He might kick him across the courtyard if he finds out he brought you.”

You can’t stop the scoff that parts your lips, “Are you kidding? Vegeta?” You wave your hand and take another long sip of your drink. From behind your glasses you’re searching for the Saiyan, “Vegeta just likes to be angry.”

“Ah ah ah,” Bulma shakes her head, leaning closer to you. She smiles devilishly and the way her eyes sparkle makes you feel the insecurities creeping in again like spiders crawling down your spine. “He’s always so jealous whenever you’re with any of the other fighters.”

Chi-Chi joins in, a wide smile on her face, “Goku is always talking about how Vegeta is in a bad mood when they leave the med bay after getting stitched up.”

“Yeah, of course,” you laugh, crossing your arms and leaning back. You try to fight the blush that’s working it’s way up your neck - you hope that they will blame the pink tint on your skin to the heat of the sun. “He’s always pissed after he leaves because I’ve been prodding him with a needle!”

“Nah,” Bulma closes her eyes and drinks in the sun, tilting her head upward. “I think it’s because you’re so nice to everyone else and it makes him jealous.”

You take a deep breath and try to absorb what she’s just said. There is no way Vegeta, that stuck-up Saiyan royal, cares how you treat any of the other fighters versus how you treat him. He’s always been indifferent towards you, always scoffed every time you walk into the room. You’re sure his eyes are stuck perpetually rolling when you’re around.

“I treat every one of the fighters just the same,” you argue, tilting your head so your face is under the shade of the umbrella. “Vegeta just doesn’t need as much babying as the others do.”

Chi-Chi giggles under her breath, “Oh, you sweet thing. I’m sure Vegeta would love to be babied by you.”

You wave your hand in dismissal at her suggestion, trying to find the Saiyan prince in the crowd. You lick your lips, “The last thing Vegeta wants is for me to call him sweetheart.”

Before the conversation can continue, you stand to your feet and finish off your drink. You look down at Bulma as you peel your top off, revealing the bathing suit underneath. She smirks at you before unwrapping her own cover up, “C’mon, I’ll have them turn on the hot tub.”

The three of you are grabbing towels and walking across the backyard to get to the hot tub when you hear a familiar voice shouting across the courtyard. 

Bulma and Chi-Chi groan simultaneously, “Roshi.”


You laugh at the arrival of the old geezer. Sure, he’s a pervert, but for the most part, he’s harmless. You wave at him, which he thinks is permission to scamper over to the hot tub and ogle at every inch of your available skin. You smack his cheek gently so he’ll move his eyesight away from your personal bits, but you don’t take it too personally. 


Roshi says something about your body, but it’s said so quickly and in such a high pitch that you can’t really make out exactly what it is. 


As you’re about to admonish Roshi for his wandering gaze and perverted words, you hear Goku’s shout from just a few feet away, “Vegeta! What the hell?! Do you sense a new power level?! I don’t sense anything!”


Goku touches his forehead to search for familiar power levels, but his brow is furrowed. You can’t help the way your jaw drops when you look just to the left of him to see Vegeta in full-blown Super Saiyan, blonde hair wafting in the afternoon wind and eyes a blue blaze as he glowers in your general direction. 


“Shut up, you idiot,” Vegeta grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. He scowls and tears his eyes away from you, shifting his feet so he can turn to glower in the opposite direction. A moment later, his super form falls and his hair loses its glimmer, his muscles deflating just slightly. 


Bulma nudges you with her elbow, “See?”


You roll your eyes and step into the hot tub. Roshi acts like he’s going to follow you in, but when Vegeta’s hair burns bright again, he slinks away from the hot tub and makes his way over to the dessert table to start stuffing his face. 


“Hey Goku!” Chi-Chi calls her husband over. Goku smiles wide and drags Vegeta with him as he comes over to the hot tub. He leans his elbow against the edge, chin against his palm as he waits for Chi-Chi’s next words. 


She pats the edge of the hot tub, “You guys should come in with us!”


Goku doesn’t need much more direction than that before he’s stripping down to the compression shorts he wears beneath his signature orange fighting gi. He leans across to sling an arm around Chi-Chi, tucking her smaller body against his side. 


“C’mon, Vegeta!” Goku splashes a little bit of water in midair, a giggle not far behind. His eyes squint closed when he smiles at his rival-turned-ally. “It feels great!”


Vegeta is practically growling at the child-like Saiyan, the rumbling building in his chest, “I will not subject myself to-”


“Get in.”


You raise a brow, looking down at him from the hot tub. You smirk, rising just a bit out of the water to lean over the edge of the tub and rest your chin on your crossed arms, “We don’t bite.”


“And how can I be sure of that?” he asks, but you notice that he’s toeing off his boots and grasping at the clasps of his armor to remove his chestplate. Vegeta grunts, “You do have some pointy teeth.”


You can’t help the grin that lights up your eyes, “You’re one to talk, Saiyan,” he’s climbing up the stairs now, his feet making the water ripple, “you literally have fangs.”


Vegeta bares his teeth at you as he settles into the corner of the tub between you and Bulma. You laugh, leaning into his shoulder. It’s a test, to see if he recoils from you. He does hesitate when he first feels the bare skin of your arm, but he doesn’t act as if he’s been burnt, so you take it as a good sign.


Your thigh is pressed against his underwater, and you try to tell yourself that it’s the heat of the bath that’s making your cheeks burn red. A server brings more drinks and you find yourself snatching up two to try and help yourself get comfortable with the Saiyan who is practically parallel with your body, from shoulder to ankle. 


A while later, Tien approaches the hot tub and leans against the edge, tapping you on the shoulder, “You ready to go here in a little bit?”


You spare a glance over your shoulder to see the edge of Vegeta’s hairline flickering somewhere between blonde and brunette. A part of you wonders how much longer you can drag out your time with the Saiyan. 


“I’m taking her home.”


Apparently, Vegeta has made the decision for you. 


You don’t miss the way his arm slides around your shoulders as he leans back to look Tien in the eyes, a sarcastic smile tugging his lips upward. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen Vegeta smile genuinely, so you know that Tien can sense the hostility.


Tien raises a brow, turning to look at you. All you can do in return is shrug, and he takes that for his answer. He sighs, “All right, sounds good. I’ll see you next time, okay?”


“Okay, Tien,” you lean forward to plant a kiss on Tien’s cheek, smiling at him as he pulls away. As you turn back to resituate yourself, Vegeta’s fingers curl around your shoulder, tucking you close much like Goku has done with his wife. It must be the liquor coursing through your system, because you don’t push him away, but rather lean into him as Bulma brings up her latest project she’s been working on. 


As the engineer talks in words that none of you can really understand, you can only pay attention to the way Vegeta’s thumb is brushing gently over your shoulder, almost tenderly. Underneath the barrier of the water, you slide your hand to his thigh, brushing your thumbnail against the hem of his shorts. His breath hitches, his throat bobbing. You feel his thigh muscles tense underneath your touch and you allow yourself a small grin out of satisfaction alone. 


It’s late enough in the afternoon now that the sun has set and it’s growing dark, so the placement of your hand isn’t obvious. Maybe that’s the only reason why Vegeta does not slap your hand away or make a scene.


Finally, you’re yawning and most of the guests have cleared out, the vendors packing away their things as well. You feel a squeeze to your shoulder and it jars you awake, your head lolling against a shoulder, “Hmm?”


A chuckle resonates beside you, “Come on, silly woman. Let’s get you home.”


Your mind races with what that could mean. Does he want to take you home? Does he want to stay at your home? The after-buzz of Bulma’s strong party drinks makes your heart race with ideas. 


“You gonna fly me there?” you ask him as the others start clambering out of the hot tub and start drying off. Vegeta scoffs, “How else do you plan for us to get there?”


You raise a hand in indignation, “All right, all right. No need to get snippy.”


As you stand to climb out of the hot tub, you almost slip on the first stair, but Vegeta’s hands grip you by the hips to keep you standing upright. You whisper a thank you over your shoulder and he merely nods in return. You’re sure that he’s bruised you from where he grabbed you, but the stinging sensation on your skin only does more to drive you wild.


You say your final thank you’s to Bulma and then, in your delirious, semi-intoxicated state, you turn to Vegeta and hold your arms out, “Well?”


“Tch,” he rolls his eyes, “you foul earthling. You never cease to confuse me.”


Vegeta turns around and squats just enough that you get the gist of what he’s beckoning you to do. You reach forward, gripping his shoulders tightly as you get ready to hop onto his back. As soon as your thighs make contact with his hips, he pounces into the air and you let out a squeal.


Your legs wrap around his waist, arms tightening against his throat. Ducking your head into his shoulder, you giggle, “You scared me!”


“Be braver,” he speaks simply.


The wind rushes through your hair and his arms around your legs make you feel like you’re still sipping on one of Bulma’s fruity drinks. You rest your chin on his shoulder, your temple against the shell of his ear as you watch the sights go by.


It isn’t long before you’re back at your apartment in the city. Vegeta lands on the balcony, lowering himself so you can slide down without much hassle. Your arms don’t leave his body, even when you’ve removed yourself from his back.


“Why did you go Super Saiyan at the party?” you ask, running your thumb over the ridges in his chestplate. He hasn’t turned around yet and you take advantage of the moment. Your eyes wander over the cuts and cracks in his armor, no matter how small. It’s a stark reminder of what his normal life is like - there is always another battle. Would there ever be time for anything else other than the next fight?


“I got angry,” Vegeta answers after a few minutes.


Your voice turns shaky, “At wh-what?”


His eyes are dark as he looks at you over his shoulder, “Isn’t it obvious?”


Maybe it’s the way his irises are glimmering under the moonlight. Maybe it’s the fruity liquor running through your veins. Maybe it’s the way your heart is beating faster the closer you get to him.


Whatever it is, it leads you to him.


Your fingers curl around the edges of his chestplate and your eyes track the pulse thumping against his neck and the way his jaw quivers under the stress of the bite of his teeth. Vegeta tilts his head, considering you closely.


“I want to hear you say it,” you tell him. Your voice is breathy and you’ve pushed yourself up on your toes to try and get closer to him.


Vegeta’s palms steady you at the base of your hips, reminding you of how he caught you earlier when you were about to face plant at the hot tub. You smile at the memory, your fingertips traveling up over his chest and up to rest against his neck. You feel the hair at the nape of his neck sift between your fingers.


“I don’t like it when other people look at you,” he admits through his teeth. Vegeta is almost snarling at you as he speaks, pulling you closer so your chests are brushing. You gasp at the contact, your eyes threatening to shutter closed. You glance up at him with half-hooded lids, “Look at me like what?”


He leans down, the tip of his nose ghosting down the bridge of yours, “Like the way I look at you.”


His lips brush over cupid’s bow and your eyes flutter shut. You card your hand into his hair, your free hand gripping his shoulder like a vice. Vegeta’s mouth captures yours, palming at you with his hands against your lower back to keep you close. You feel a moan surface from the back of your throat, but the sound only spurs the Saiyan on. He pushes you against the brick wall, hoisting you up with one arm around your waist. 

Vegeta slots his knee between your thighs to help hold you up, and it’s like you’re practically sitting in his lap in midair. You comb your fingers through his hair and feel the pulsating energy of his super form threatening to push through. A smirk works its way on your lips when his hand glides up your abdomen, thumb trailing between the valley of your chest and over your collarbones. His palm gets threateningly close to your throat and you wonder if or when he’ll squeeze the sensitive flesh of your neck.


You gasp when the pad of his thumb finds its way to the throbbing vein in your neck. He uses the soft flesh to tilt your head upward, leaving your skin bare and exposed in the balmy night air.


“You’re whimpering, angel,” Vegeta’s voice is gentle, the furthest thing from patronizing while still managing to be sarcastic. His nose brushes down over your cheek to your jaw, the puff of his breath against your neck bringing forth chill bumps on every inch of your skin. 


The way your body is leaning into his is nothing short of wanton. Your fingernails rake against his scalp as you guide him to the various sensitive parts of your upper body - your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. His mouth leaves a blazing trail everywhere it touches and only leaves you wanting more.


A shout from below startles the both of you and Vegeta shields your body with his own, pressing you even more flush with the brick wall of your apartment balcony. The noise was from a group of teenagers passing down the street, but it breaks you from your stupor. 


You laugh, dropping your head to his chest. Vegeta is rolling his eyes, you’re sure of it. His palms run down your sides until he wraps you up in his arms, hoisting you into midair. You squeal at the motion and throw yourself into him with your arms around his neck to keep yourself steady. 


Vegeta slides the balcony door open with the toe of his boot, carrying you through until he can deposit you on the bed, gently placing you there. He’s now hovering over you with his irises turning dark, thumbs circling the soft skin of your knee, slowly trailing up your thigh. You try to lean up to meet him halfway because your lips are aching to feel the touch of his kiss again, but he shakes his head, “Uh uh. Stay there. I’ll come to you.”


The short intake of breath that parts your lips makes Vegeta smirk. He gnaws on his lower lip as he loiters over you, thumbs circling your thighs in a tantalizing way. The way the pads of his fingers burn into your skin is like torture. All you want is to yank him by his armor to kiss the life out of you, but the way his eyes are boring into you tells you that you really should listen to what he said just a moment ago.


He leans forward, spreading your knees further apart so his thick frame can fit between your thighs. Vegeta’s body is heavy when he finally presses himself into you, his head tilted as he deposits warm kisses against your clothed body, starting at your navel and working upward. The obscene sound his wet lips make against the bare skin of your chest gives you gooseflesh. He nudges his nose over the swell of your breast as he uses his thumbs to hike up your cover up dress, the tip of his nail scraping gently against the back of your thighs, dangerously close to the hem of your bathing suit. 


A horn honks outside and it reminds him that the door was left open. Vegeta grunts before extracting himself from you, “I’m going to make sure all the doors are closed and locked, okay?”


You nod, tugging him by the neck for another kiss square on the mouth. He pulls away after a long few seconds, squeezing your thighs beneath the cover up. Before he completely removes himself from you, he slaps the sensitive skin of your thighs quickly, but all it does is allow another whimper to fall from your lips.


“I’ll be right back.”


Vegeta does a quick walkthrough of your apartment, making sure that your exit doors are closed and everything is in order before walking back to your bedroom. 


The position you’re in when he returns was not one that he would expect.


You’re wrapped under the sheets, your bathing suit and cover up discarded on the floor. The entirety of your legs are exposed, but your chest and waist are covered by the thin sheet. If he were to look hard enough, he’s sure he could see whatever he wanted, but the Saiyan prince knows more about respect and pride than to do that. 


Gentle snores pour out of your body, your chest heaving up and down consistently as breath blows out through your lips. You’re curled against a pillow, eyes shut but still active behind your eyelids. He allows himself to wonder what exactly you’re dreaming about. 


Vegeta reaches forward and brushes your hair out of your eyes, a sad smile on his lips, “I knew you were too good to be true.”


A kiss is planted on your forehead before he slips out of the balcony doorway and flies away into the night.




You’re not surprised to feel the thud of a slight hangover the next morning. Your eyes are practically glued shut, but luckily all of your window blinds are shut and none of your lights were left on in your drunken stupor the night before. You run your fingertips against your lips, the faint buzz of your dream still playing like a movie as you close your eyelids.


Vegeta kissed me.


Of course it was a dream. You know Vegeta isn’t one to care for physical affection unless you count an uppercut as a caress. And even though you were drunk by the end of Bulma’s party, you would have a distinct reminder if the Saiyan landed a blow somewhere on you. 


For now, you’ll have to settle with the ghost of a kiss on your lips and the thought of what his mouth might taste like.




You trudge back to Capsule Corporation, a full thermos of coffee in your hands and a pair of sunglasses covering your eyes. You nod to the front desk receptionist before heading to the med bay to start your day. 


It’s quiet for the first few hours - you’re mostly organizing the office and ordering medical supplies. You’re put in touch with Yajirobe to discuss the senzu bean supply and also to ship him some of Bulma’s leftovers in thanks for the beans. 


Once the sun starts to set and you open the windows to let a clean breeze roll in, you hear the two Saiyans out on the front lawn arguing about something. You laugh - no matter how much Vegeta wants to argue it, he and Goku have become something akin to brothers. Definitely more so in the no one can kill you but me way, but it's still some form of family.


You’re washing beakers when the two stop by for their daily dose of vitamins. Goku gulps his down with a full bottle of water before turning to you, “Thanks! I still can’t believe Bulma hired someone as cool as you to be our doc!”


A bashful laugh escapes your lips - it doesn’t matter that Goku is married or that he is not necessarily what you would want in a partner, the bulky Saiyan’s compliment still sends a blush to bloom on the apples of your cheeks. You look down at your feet, your bland non-slip shoes tucked against one another at the arch, “Thanks, Goku. You’re not half bad yourself.”


Vegeta scoffs and tosses his little disposable cup in the garbage, sipping on a bottle of water, “Kakarrot, could you be anymore embarrassing?”


“Hey, Vegeta, that’s not nice!”


Goku leans on your shoulder, “Chi Chi offered to cook a really big dinner for everyone this afternoon. Do you wanna come?”


You pluck an already clean glass from the countertop and start wiping at it with a washcloth, “I-uh, I wouldn’t want to impose, Goku. I know I’m not a fighter or anything…”


“Nonsense,” Vegeta clicks his tongue, “Goku’s wife always makes too much food. There will be more than enough.”


And that’s how you find yourself sitting down at the outdoor dinner table at Goku’s farm.


Vegeta is on your right, and he passes you food as they all eat mercilessly. His hand brushes your thigh under the tablecloth and you feel your whole body tense at the motion. You swallow thickly and force yourself to eat another piece of grilled meat. You’re confused when he leaves his hand there, mostly because it is impeding the speed with which he can shovel food down his throat. 


“So,” Bulma speaks up after a mouthful of rice, “Is everyone still treating you right at Capsule? You haven’t had any issues with any of the other staff, have you?”


You shake your head, taking a sip of your drink before answering, “Oh, no, everyone is so kind!”


“What about the boys?” Chi Chi adds, raising a brow as she looks between Goku and Krillin, “Are they all being civil?”


A laugh bubbles up from your chest, “Oh, sometimes they squirm when I’m stitching them up, but for the most part they’re all compliant.”


Vegeta barks out a laugh, “Yamcha almost needed more stitches because he couldn’t sit still for the first ones.”


You narrow your eyes and turn to him, instinctively reaching under the table to squeeze his hand. Yamcha is sitting across the table, next to Bulma, and his face turns bright red at the comment. He goes to say something in retaliation to Vegeta, but everyone is shocked to see you and the Saiyan Prince having a silent conversation with your eyes. 


Vegeta snarls as he looks down at you. The pressure of your hand squeezing his palm actually causes him to wince, mostly out of surprise rather than pain. He tilts his head and you raise your right brow just enough that he gets the gist of what you mean. The harshness of the look on your face softens when you feel his palm turn over against your thigh, fingers slotting between the spaces of your hand.


“In Yamcha’s defense, it was a really nasty wound,” Vegeta grits out between his teeth before returning to the food on his plate.


Everyone is quiet for another moment and then they continue on as if nothing has happened. Your fingers stay intertwined with Vegeta’s, the feel of his gloved hand warm in your own. He keeps his head ducked, unable to look you in the eyes after his outburst.


“I’ll help you with the dishes,” you mention as you stand to your feet alongside Chi -Chi. She grabs a few plates off of the table, “Oh, that’s fine. No need!” 


You shake your head, “Oh, I’m sure you don’t get much help from these dunderheads! Let me do the first round.”


She relents, leaving you in the kitchen by yourself while the rest of the fighters and friends culminate around the bonfire that Goku has lit. You watch through the picture window in the kitchen as they all share drinks and laughs.


It’s another twenty minutes before the kitchen door opens, giving way to heavy muscle and dark eyes. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans against the countertop beside you, arms crossed over his chest. You lick your lips and turn just enough to look at him, “Is everything okay?”


Vegeta grunts, “Tch. I can’t stand to be around them for more than a few minutes.”


“Your little comment about Yamcha earlier was really uncalled for.” You keep your hands busy by dunking them in the dishwater and continuing to scrub away at the plates and bowls. You take a short breath, “But I was more surprised by your attempt at an apology than the remark.”


“You can be intimidating when you try,” he mumbles, leaning his head back against the cabinets. Vegeta sighs, “Besides, the last thing I need is Bulma trying to defend that clown. She’s already irritable when we’re all just breathing.”


You can’t help a laugh, tilting your chin against your shoulder to conceal your giggle. You shake your head, “Be careful, she might be able to hear you.”


The smallest of smiles tilts the corner of Vegeta’s mouth and you wonder why every moment can’t be like this. Why can’t he be a proud man who smiles when things are funny? Why can’t he train to become stronger but also be gentle when it’s necessary?


You wipe your hands on a kitchen cloth, turning so your hip is pressed to the counter. Eying him, you smirk, “If I didn’t know any better, you’re jealous.”


“J-Jeal-” Vegeta chokes on his words, stumbling forward a half-step. The cap of his knee juts into your thigh and you laugh again at his actions. The prince catches himself midair, “I-How dare you? That would imply I care about-”


At just that moment, Chi Chi opens the door with the offer of finishing the dishes tumbling from her lips. She smiles and you wipe the remainder of the soap off your hands, “Sure, Chi Chi! Hopefully I did enough to be considered respectable. I really appreciate you cooking dinner for us.”


She squeezes your arms and then takes the position in front of the sink, hands wrist-deep in dishwater. You brush past Vegeta on the way out the door, careful to throw a glance over your shoulder to see him watching you as you leave. 


You don’t speak to him for the rest of the night, his sentence he wasn’t able to finish rattling around in your brain.


That would imply I care-


-about you.


Sure, he didn’t say it, but he might as well have.


You always thought Vegeta could never care for you in that way, but to hear it projected from his lips makes your heart burn. You wring your hands in your lap, unable to finish the drink Bulma made you. The fire is crackling in front of you, and Vegeta finds his way to the seat next to yours. Usually you would find a reason to lean closer so you could brush even just your elbows against his armor, but now you find yourself curling in on your own body, cradling your drink against your chest. 


The next few weeks are strange. You’re calling in sick and requesting an assistant to help you patch up the fighters when they come back in from intense training sessions. It’s not rare for Vegeta and Goku to need minor patching up, but it seems like since the night of the cookout, Vegeta always needs something stitched. You wonder if he’s self-inflicting wounds just to watch you squirm.


“You’re subpar,” he spats at your assistant one afternoon, a snarl on his lips. Vegeta scoffs, “I won’t let you touch me any longer.” He calls out your name and you barely lift your head from where you’re writing down formulas and equations. The faraway look in your eyes makes a chill settle in his spine, but he pushes the cold feeling away, “I’ll take this poor treatment no longer. I deserve the best care!”


You sigh and roll your eyes, “She’s doing a great job.”


“Tch! Seriously?!” Vegeta stands to his feet, a loop of suture work dangling from the skin of his arm, “I will not stand to be treated this way.”


“Then leave.”


Vegeta’s voice catches in his throat, a strangled noise echoing behind his tongue. His jaw muscles pulsate under the strain of his gritted teeth. Fists are tight at his sides, “A-Are you-”


“If you’re not happy with the way you’re being treated,” you tilt your head to look him in the eye for a short moment, “then go somewhere else.”


The Saiyan prince is taken aback by your stern words and harsh eyes. His jaw is left open as you turn your gaze back to your notes, pen scratching letters and numbers into the pages. You’re not surprised to hear the thudding of boots followed by the loud echo of the door slamming as Vegeta makes his exit. 


You sigh, sparing a glance toward the closed door, the stubborn Saiyan no doubt miles away by now. 




The looks he passes you when walking down the halls and across the courtyard is enough to make your heart go mad. You feel your chest tighten when he doesn’t give you the standard greeting, but you know that deep down, you’re to blame. You’re the one who embarrassed him. 


It takes another month or so for Goku to finally need a deeper set of stitches. 


“Vegeta has been really angry lately,” he comments, wincing through another set of sutures. He sighs, brushing his palm against the back of his neck, “Are you guys fighting or something?”


You choke on your own saliva, the threat of tears stinging in the back of your eyes. You take a short breath, “I don’t know, Goku.”


“Hey,” Goku grasps you gently by the bicep, “Are you okay?”


You swallow the emotion sticking in your throat like paste and drop your head to his shoulder, thankful you finished the final stitch moments before he asked his horrible question. Your palms rest against his chest as you try to regulate your breathing. Goku is nothing if not a brick wall, and it’s times like these where you’re glad to be his friend.


“I-I hate this back and forth!” You sniffle, turning so your cheek is against his shoulder, your eyes focusing on the scenery just outside the window. It’s a beautiful spring day, you should be outside wandering through the tall grass and plucking wild flowers. 


Goku’s arms encase your body, hugging you tight. You’re thankful that he can at least pick up on this social cue instead of how he normally reacts to human affection. 


“It’s so annoying the way Vegeta keeps going back and forth,” you try to remember to take short breaths as your head begins to spin. A hiccup parts your lips, “One moment, he’s holding my hand and leaning into me and complimenting me and the next he’s saying he doesn’t care and pulling’s so...frustrating!


“Have you talked to him?” He asks the question like it’s the simplest thing in the world.


You rub your nose against his gi, not caring if you get it dirty because it’s already soaked in sweat. You thumb at the collar, “Vegeta is not the most approachable.”


Goku laughs, pressing his cheek atop your head while he squeezes you tight, “Well, I think you should just talk with him. I bet you’d be surprised to see what he’d say!”


The idea alone makes you anxious, worry balling up in your belly like spiders threatening to crawl up into your chest and make a home there. Your body quivers, two tears falling from each of your eyes, wetting your cheeks. 




You’re shocked at the sound of Vegeta’s voice echoing in the medical bay treating room.


“What are you doing to her?! Why is she crying?” Vegeta’s boots are loud as he thunders into the room, eyes wide and brows raised. “What have you done, you imbecile? Do I need to strike you down where you stand?”


You shy away from the Saiyan prince as he bolsters towards you. Your body hides behind Goku’s, fingertips trembling against the bright orange fabric of his gi. 


“Vegeta, what the hell?” Goku shakes his head, “I didn’t do anything! She’s crying about you!”


The Prince’s pupils dilate as he stutters in place. His feet shuffle against the tile floor, “Wh-What?”


Goku rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, motioning with his hands, “You made her cry, Vegeta! So you can stop yelling at me. I didn’t do nothin’.”


Vegeta leans around to look at you, “Wh-What is he talking about?”


You curl your hands together, cradling them against your chest. Vegeta looks lost as he speaks his next words, “I-I kissed you! Isn’t that how earthlings show affection? What else did you need from me to show you that I wanted to pursue you as a mate?!”


The entire room goes still. 


“Y-You what?”


“Ew, gross!”


Vegeta’s scalp glows blonde and Goku throws his hands up, “S-Sorry!”


Your cheeks are bright red, palms sweating. You lean around Goku’s side to look at Vegeta, eyes wandering over every part of him. He’s tense, that much is easy to deduce. His body is tightly wound, like a coil ready to spring. 


“Kakarot, get the hell out!”


Goku excuses himself with pink cheeks and wide eyes, squirming through the front door and skittering down the hallway. 


Vegeta takes a short step towards you, treating you more like a frightened animal than anything else. His hands are open, palms facing upward as he trudges closer. You grind your teeth together, widening your stance to be a little more sturdy.


“The night I took you home from Bulma’s party, silly woman,” Vegeta cracks the smallest of smiles. You feel warmth seeping into your skin, starting where he circles your wrists with his own fingers. “We kissed then.”


The dream pounds like a bright light against your eyelids, the fuzzy feeling when you awoke clear as day. Your fingertips tremble against your lips, the closeness of the Saiyan dizzying. He is warm, radiating heat, and the mix of his musk and some sort of cologne makes your brain twirl. Vegeta runs his thumb against your pulse on your wrist, feeling your heartbeat.


“I-I don’t remember,” you admit, your voice faint. You look up at him and you're surprised to see him still grinning. Vegeta shakes his head, “I gathered as much.”


He swallows, “I guess you had too many of those drinks she was passing out. I was planning on doing it again, unless you’re unwilling.”


Your pulse quickens and your eyes meet his, breath puffing from between your parted lips. There’s a stillness in the room that is normally never present where there is a Saiyan. They have an air about them which leaves the atmosphere buzzing, the threat of power on the cusp of their arrival. You’ve grown used to the sensation, but now that it’s absent, your chest feels tight.


“I’ve been told that earthlings say silence means no, but that gaping look on your face makes me think otherwise.” Vegeta’s knuckles curl against your jawline and his smirk deepens. The pad of his thumb drags across your lower lip and his voice drops an octave, “I could drop you here and you’d say thank you, wouldn’t you, little earthling?”


Your breath trembles, the threat of his fingertip against your front teeth, “V-Vegeta-”


His thumb flexes and your jaw is snapped open wide, his index finger pressed into the hollow of your cheek. Vegeta’s head tilts as he considers you, practically already clay to mold with his intentions, “You vulgar woman. You’re thinking about a lot more than kissing me, aren’t you?”


Your thoughts return to you and you force your jaw down to bite on his thumb, the slightest smirk of your own upturning your lips. You grip his chest plate and pull him forward, taking him by surprise, dropping your mouth down on his whole finger, releasing it with a pop. He barely has time to register the way the action makes him feel before your mouth is on his. 


Vegeta never realized how much his body ached to be washed in your presence. His very being sings at your closeness, the way your breath falls against his lips sending his mind into another dimension. He pulls you close, anchoring your bodies at the waist. His fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, thumb brushing over the taut skin of your stomach before drifting to hook into your belt loops.


The feel of your gentle tongue against his teeth sends him into a frenzy. His mouth is harsh against yours, teeth knocking together as he walks you back against one of the medical beds. The backs of your thighs bump into the metal frame and you stumble. 


“Your armor is in my way,” you pant, thumbing at the base of his chest plate, proving yourself right as you’re barred from his bare skin.


Vegeta breaks from your kiss, his temple pressed against your cheek as he breathes heavily, the heat blooming on your neck. Your thighs twitch with the feeling, warmth pooling in your belly as his lips ghost over your jaw.


“You want it gone so badly, take it off yourself,” Vegeta grunts before lavishing his tongue over your pulse throbbing in the thick vein on your neck. Your heartbeat hastens once the cold air hits the wet spots now on your skin.


Desperately, you search for the clasps. Your fingers fumble purposefully around the seams but you can’t focus with the way his mouth is working away at your collarbones. His teeth are bared against the swell of your chest and the tips of his fangs scrape against your tender skin. You gasp at the sharpness of his teeth, your back arching. 


You whine, your eyes screwed shut so tightly that you start to see stars, “G-Geeta, c’mon!”


“What?” He tilts his head so his hair brushes over your jaw. Vegeta nudges his nose over the dense muscle of your neck, trailing upwards to your ear, “Can’t wait to get your hands on me? Is it making you impatient?”


His teeth take your earlobe and you keen at the feeling. Your hands tighten around what little fabric you can grasp of his close-fitting uniform and you pull him forward so your torsos are aligned. You feel the brush of his pelvis against yours and your whole body lights on fire. His Saiyan blood makes him warm and you leech off the heat, your body igniting as if he were a match.


“Please,” you pant into his ear, desperate to do something


Your hands palm at him and your mouth searches for either his lips or his skin. His fighting gear leaves little available for you to explore.


Vegeta uses his large palm against your lower back to arch you upward, your body still sitting on the bed as he loiters above you. Your hands are trembling now and it’s almost like a game to him as he tortures your body with his mouth while you frantically pull and tug at his armor.


“Please what?” Vegeta echoes, breathing slowly against your cheek as he leans back to look you in the eye.


You let a string of curse words fumble from your lips in a quiet murmur. Your eyes are closed because you can’t bear looking at him when you can’t even unbuckle his chest plate. Vegeta nips the corner of your lip, tugging on the thin skin of your mouth.


He repeats himself in a rasp, dark eyes boring down at you as if he were drilling straight into your soul. You move one of your hands to cup his face, tilting him towards you as your eyelids struggle to stay open. Surprisingly, Vegeta allows you to maneuver him closer, tugging on him with your palm against his cheek.


“Help me, I-I can’t-” You’re cut short by his lips overtaking you again. His mouth is disastrous as it collides with your own, his hands finding yours as he ghosts over his armor, unlocking the latches with precision and ease. There is a loud thud as the weighted chest plate falls to the ground. 


“You weakling,” Vegeta murmurs into the openness of your mouth. He runs his tongue along the seam of your lips before clambering on top of you, knees between your thighs. Picking you up by the backs of your knees, Vegeta drags your body so your hips are flush and only your shoulder blades are touching the mattress.


He nips his teeth against the cloth of your pants on the inside of your knee, “Can’t even take my clothes off by yourself. Need my help with everything.”


You press your cheek into the mattress, your eyes shut with anticipation. He runs his nose along the inner part of your leg, the bow of his lips dragging over the sensitive flesh of your thighs. He chuckles and the breath heats your core.


“In your defense,” Vegeta murmurs as he kisses the top of your thigh, “only one with Saiyan strength can remove it.”


“Wh-!” You reel backward, widening your eyes as you look down on him, “You sneaky bastard.”


Vegeta pulls your shirt up by the hem, running the tip of his nose along the curves and contours of your belly. He presses a kiss against your hip, biting gently at the supple skin before sparing a glance upward at you, “I had to make it at least a little entertaining.”


You narrow your eyes, but the gesture is short-lived when the rough pad of his thumb runs just beneath the curvature of your breast. Every inch of your skin is pin-pricked with the threatening anticipation that the Saiyan’s mouth and hands provides.


“Take it off.”


You look frantically around the room - you didn’t even realize the door was still open from where Goku left however long ago. Not to mention all of the window blinds are partially angled to where anyone could see directly in and you’re sprawled out underneath this specimen of a man, powerless for however he wishes to use you. 


You shake your head, a blush burning into your cheeks, and cross your arms over your chest. He extracts himself just slightly, leaning back on his thick thighs to look down at you in questioning. His gaze follows yours and it appears that he can put together why you’re suddenly so against the continuation of what was about to unfold.


“Shh, s’okay,” Vegeta’s thumb is against your lower lip and you’re surprised at the sudden gentleness of his nature. He tilts his head, “D’you want to-”




His eyes widen at your quick response, but a chuckle fills the silence soon after. He plucks you up from the mattress, looping his arms around your thighs to hoist you into the air. You wrap your arms around his neck, tucking your nose into the crux of his shoulder.


Vegeta holds you close with one arm snaked around your midsection, the other settled on the underside of your thigh to keep you anchored to him. You cross your ankles around his back to hold yourself as steady as possible. Your mouth is against his collarbone, eyes just barely able to peek over the top of his shoulder. He’s walking you through the halls of Capsule Corp, glaring at anyone who dares to even glance your way as he does so.


A devious thought crosses your mind just then. You bare your teeth and press them against his skin, waiting for a reaction. He does nothing, and so you press your luck even further with a gentle biting of his shoulder. You don’t dare go any further, not yet. You’re afraid he may react too severely and drop you.


“Hmph,” he grunts, turning his head so his chin is against the crown of your hair. “You’d better stop, if you know what’s good for you.”


Another shadow passes on the opposite side of the hallway and you smirk into his neck, “Stop what?”


You feign innocence as you flatly press your tongue to his collarbone. You nip your teeth against the taut flesh before suckling on the skin, the sound of his hissing not going unnoticed by you. You only manage to mark him for a few seconds, but it’s enough to leave a bright red splotch of pulsing skin behind.


You turn your head and latch onto the patch of skin just beneath his ear, your face hidden by his stray tufts of hair. You lavish the spot with your tongue and teeth, this time able to pester him longer, your fingers dipping into the muscles of his shoulders as you cling onto him like an animal.


“Why you filthy little-” Vegeta clicks his tongue as he stretches his neck to look down at you. You smile up at him impishly and a small giggle escapes from the back of your throat.


A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating your torso. Your entire body flushes with heat at the sound. You latch onto another patch of skin near the base of his throat, and this time you pull the flesh into your mouth even tighter than before, sucking hard against the skin. Vegeta gasps but you don’t let him go, instead biting down harder, determined to leave a lasting bruise there on the most visible part of his body.


You hear a few beeping sounds and then the click of a door opening. Your back is against a wall before you can realize that you’ve made it to Vegeta’s room. His knee brushes between your hips as he leans forward to kick the door closed and you feel heat rush to the center of your body, pooling in your stomach. 


“I told you,” he growls into your ear, hips pinning your body to the wall, “to cut that shit out.”


Vegeta’s palm runs from your hips up over your breasts, squeezing quickly with his right hand before allowing himself to focus on the base of your throat. His thumb brushes against your pulse point that’s currently throbbing along with your speedy heartbeat.


“I can see it in you, though, can’t I?” His smirk is bright in the dimly lit apartment. He runs the pad of his thumb over your esophagus, applying gentle pressure to test your very basic limitations. “You’re practically begging me and you haven’t spoken a word since the med bay.”


You swallow thickly, your throat bobbing against his barely-there hold on your neck. Your breathing is shallow and you try to keep from panting like you’re desperate.


“Go on,” he nudges his nose over your cheek, voice commanding you even though it’s so low. “Ask me for it, I know you want to.”


You’re embarrassed that he can see right through you as if you were a glass window, or a book begging to be read. Your ears and cheeks burn bright red, your nerves reflected on your skin tone. You turn your head so your cheek is pressed to the cool wall and it effectively gives you some relief from the warmth bubbling inside of you.


This only encourages him, his palm creeping up your neck to press flat against your cheek, holding you there. He scoffs, “Can’t even look at me when you’re telling me what you want me to do you, can you? Even you know how vulgar and pitiful you’re being, don’t you?”


How he manages to be both patronizing and enticing, you’ll never know. It must be the tone of his voice. With your cheek smushed between his hand and the wall, your body is trembling under the idea of submitting to him. Your legs are shaking under the strain of holding yourself up, but he does not relent.


“Ten seconds, babygirl,” Vegeta mumbles against your neck, brushing his knee further into your hips. Your thighs cinch around him even tighter, searching for some sort of friction against your throbbing core. He barks out a laugh at your needy behavior, “Tell me what you want, or I’ll decide for you.”


You try to count down in your head, but your mind is fuzzy and you can only find a few numbers before you blurt unceremoniously, your voice nothing but a whine, “I-I want you to be rough with me!”


The laugh that echoes in the empty room is something of a mix between sadistic and proud. Vegeta tightens his grip around your throat, thumb and index finger digging into the muscles that keep your spine and esophagus safe. Your pulse thunders in your ears, pounding against his fingertips as he applies increasing pressure.


“How do you want me to rough you up, sweetheart? Where do you want me to make it hurt?” Vegeta trails his free hand over the length of your body, fingertips lighting your skin on fire as he applies varying amounts of pressure here and there. He raises a brow, looking up at you through dark lashes. His hand settles on the curve of your back, fingertips digging harshly into the soft skin of your ass. 


Your eyes roll back in your head as you reach up to circle a hand around his forearm, your breathing practically halted with the harsh hold he has on your throat. You squirm under his heavy body and he clicks his tongue, “Ah, ah. Be still.”


Your thighs quiver as you try to still your body. You brush your palm against his arm, the pulsating muscles of his forearm sending your thoughts buckwild. You close your eyes and delicately run your fingertips over the thick veins and sinews leading to his shoulders and torso. His bicep twitches under your touch. 


Vegeta notices the way your cheeks burn with color and he releases your throat from his grasp. His thumb trails down the length of your neck as you gasp and cough from the relief of pressure. You swear you see the slightest of grimaces default on his face, but the expression is gone before you can register it. You wrap your fingers around his bicep in an attempt to reassure him even if your voice isn’t functioning.


The skin of your throat grows tight as you gulp in air. You’re sure there will be bruises where his fingertips were, but instead of making you self-conscious, it only spurs you on to beg him for what you really want. 


“I want y-you to mark me up,” you manage to spit the words out even as your body drifts somewhere in between elated and exhausted. Just the idea of what he could do to you makes you want to curl up and rest, tired from the dream of him.


Vegeta tilts his head and you take it as a silent order to continue, and so you do: “I-I want,” you pull his hand from your cheek and guide it to your hip, “you to bruise me.” You risk exposing yourself to more pain when you reach up to cup his cheek, fingers sifting into his hair. You grip his head by the back of his neck and pull him close, “I want you to bite me a-and-oh!”


The feel of his sharp teeth against the thin skin of your neck cuts you short and instinctively a sound that is a hybrid between a gasp and a moan erupts from the back of your throat. Vegeta smirks, a low chuckle vibrating against your neck, “Vulgar woman.”


Vegeta plucks you from the wall, tossing you over his shoulder as he walks towards his bedroom. Your body must be like a paper weight to him, what with the way he carelessly drapes you against him. You can’t focus on much other than the thickness of his lower half - he’s all muscle, but it’s concentrated on his ass and thighs. His calves flex as he walks through the bedroom door and you wriggle one hand free to slap at his ass.


He gasps, “Why you little-you’ll pay for that!


Your body is flung from his shoulder to the bed, the propelling of your body making the bed squeak as you settle. He pulls his tank over his head, tossing the fabric somewhere out of the way. The weight of his boots thudding against the floor makes your shoulders shake. 


Vegeta is in only his skin-tight training pants, the contours of his muscles bulging in strain against the fabric. You’re practically drooling at the sight of his bare torso. He clambers on top of you, loitering over you as he brushes his knuckles down your cheek. His voice is low and deep when he speaks next, “Can’t keep your hands to yourself?”


“C-Can’t help it,” you manage, your legs squirming under the weight of his body. He pulls you forward with his palms kneading the flesh of your thighs, snapping you up toward him.


“So desperate, and whiny,” Vegeta tuts, shaking his head as his tongue makes quick work of your sensitive neck. You slot your fingers further into his hair, holding him to you as much as you can, what with his Saiyan strength tossing you around like a ragdoll.


You hiccup and shake your head, “S-Sorry.”


Vegeta is quick to press a kiss square on your lips, effectively hushing you as he begins rolling his hips into yours. Your jaw drops and it allows him to lick the inside of your mouth, nipping at your lower lip as he pulls away. He nudges his nose against your cheek, “Don’t apologize, just spread your legs.”


You do as you’re told and your knees spread to hit the mattress. Your breath is like a ball of sandpaper in your throat and you can’t force enough air into your lungs, no matter how much your body protests.


“Besides,” Vegeta says, licking his lips slowly like he knows just what it does to you, “I like it when you’re needy.”


There’s a loud ripping sound that echoes through the room and you want to be pissed but the way the cool air hits your hot body, you can’t complain. Vegeta tosses the offensive clothing off to the side of the room to be forgotten, his eyes trained in on the valley between your hips. You feel squeamish all of a sudden, trying to bend your hips to best cover yourself, although you’re bare as a newborn in front of him. 


“Mm, babygirl,” he mutters, shaking his head as he dips his strong fingers into the flesh of your thighs. “Is that what I do to you?”


You know he’s referring to the horrific slick obscuring his sight from the inside of your sensitive folds, but you can’t seem to force out a response. Your head is dizzy now, between the pressure he has on your legs and the high you’re riding from the sight of him alone.


His thumb presses to the most sensitive part of your body and he circles the pad of his finger round on top of it, leaning his forehead against yours as he does so. The sensational jolts that brush over your spine like hot lava do little to calm your quick heartbeat. Vegeta is shockingly gentle in his ministrations, building up something within you that will eventually burst like water over a dam.


“I always wondered how I affected you.” His voice is low, a rumble in his chest that vibrates your torso. Your nipples harden at the sound and you fight the low whine that wants to burst open your lips. Vegeta chuckles, running his nose down your cheek as if he were stalking you like prey - you hope he devours you whole.


Without much warning, his index finger slides into you, filling you up more than you though, the thick digit curling upward inside of you, sending you keening loudly. The sound echoes off the apartment walls and only urges the Saiyan Prince onward. Your hands instinctively wrap up into the scruff at the nape of his neck, holding him to you as you try your hardest not to ride his finger desperately.


He smirks, “Now I know.”


Obscene puffs of breath part your lips and he uses his spare thumb to brush over the lower one. Your eyes are screwed shut as his finger relentlessly pulls and pushes against your walls, continuing to build the crescendo, threatening to spill you into the end too quickly, and with only one finger no less.


“Seeing you curl up around Tien, calling Yamcha every name in the book,” he huffs, his finger working faster within you as his temper rises. Vegeta grunts and it sounds like a growl, “I could’ve hurled any of them to the moon, but I never understood why.”


Vegeta tits his head back, looking down at you with something akin to awe in his eyes, “Now, holding you like this, watching you, I know.”


Your head rolls back and your eyes screw shut, but he pulls out his finger, coated in your wetness and throbbing from use, and you choke out a sob at the lack of contact. He brings his thumb back to your clit, pushing gently but enough that it brings you back down from your cry.


“You wanted marks?” His question is rhetorical. He can remember the way you cried out earlier that you wanted him to mark you up, to claim you as his own. The Saiyan in him bites away at his human resolve, begging to unleash the beast settled and tamed just under the surface. Every primal instinct within him tells his body to scar you with his affections, to bite and bruise until your body can take it no longer, until anyone with eyes can see that you belong to Prince Vegeta.


You nod your head but it’s feeble, the feel of his palm so close to your core pushing a blush from your belly to your ears, your body weak under his potential touch. Vegeta makes a guttural sound, low and deep, and somewhere in the back of his throat, and then his mouth is all over you.


Your body freezes at the feeling, but as soon as you register where his bites are, you melt. Your arms are jelly, barely hanging onto him now as you lazily loop your hands behind his neck. You sway with his mannerisms, your body little more than a vessel for his undoing.


“I’ve wanted to put a mark right here,” he nips at your jugular, “since that day you slapped Kakarrot.”


His mouth envelopes the soft skin of your neck, rolling it between his teeth as he sucks. You can feel the blood vessels bursting, no doubt leaving behind an angry red hickey which will soon bloom into beautiful blues and purples.


Vegeta releases you with a pop and then his fingers are agonizing you again, this time two are pressed between your folds, making your walls throb at the intrusion. You flex involuntarily against him, and his eyes light up. He looks down at you, “Do that again.”


“B-But,” you swallow, wishing the heat of tears away. For some reason he’s spinning you out already, and he hasn’t manipulated your body enough for you to feel exhausted like this. And yet, your body begs for release so you can fall into a dreamlike state, curled around him like a needy animal.


He tilts his head, beckoning you to answer. You lick your dry lips, cracked from your panting breaths, “I don’t know h-how much longer I can last. N-Not with that.”


“Oh, little earthling,” Vegeta kisses his way up your jaw between words, his fangs brushing against the thin skin of your neck. “I plan to wear you out, so this is just the beginning.”


As the words tumble from his mouth, his fingers work against you, curling devastatingly within you. You listen to his command, flexing your body against his touch, and your eyes widen as your bodies work together to bring you to another plane of existence as stars settle in your vision. Vegeta encourages you with a string of words whispered against the shell of your ear, but you swear he’s speaking some ancient Saiyan language because you can’t understand a syllable he’s saying between your loud panting and the high he’s pushing you towards.


He pulls back from you, loitering over you like a shadow, and his palm brushes your neck, making you wince as he touches the sensitive space he’s marked as his own. His fingers enclose around your neck again, thumb pushing harshly into your hickey.


You seethe between your teeth, your body arching upward at the wave of pain that washes over you. Vegeta surges forward to bruise your lips with his kiss. His mouth works you just as painstakingly as his fingers, the tandem effort between his hands and his lips making your eyes roll back in your head.


“P-Please, ‘Geta,” you whine in a hoarse voice, your toes curling. You grip your hands in the sheets in an attempt to diffuse some of the tension building up in your hips, but it does little to quell the strain. You start to see darkness around your peripherals as his palm flexes against your neck. 


Vegeta sucks a small hickey into the curve of your jaw before releasing his fingers from your throat, his hand drifting down to tug at your clothed chest. His thumb and index finger twist at your hardened nipple, which makes your whole body tense.


“Please what?” he mocks, his voice patronizing.


You groan, turning your head to dig into the pillow beneath you, “I-I’m gonna-ah!”


His pace quickens, thumb pushed against your clit as his fingers swipe quickly, the base of his fist pumping in and out of you. If this is how he feels with his thick fingers, you can only imagine how full you’ll be once he’s inside of you.


“Gonna what?” Vegeta kisses over the hickeys he’s left on your neck and shoulders. You bite your lip to keep from crying out at the pinpricks of pain that jar your senses. He chuckles, his forehead bumping against your chin to get you to look at him, his fingers still working at you, tugging you closer to the precipice with every flick, “You gonna come on my fingers? Silly woman, so quick to come apart when I’ve got you laid out like this. ‘m not even done with you yet, sweetheart.”


His voice sends you over the edge. You squeeze your thighs around his arm, your hips arching upward as you burn through the end of your resolve. The build up of wetness in your eyes spills over the corners, tracking down your cheeks as you mewl when your release finally hits. Vegeta continues, slowing his pace but pushing you through the aftershocks as your eyes go wide with stars, pumping in and out of you with his two fingers.


“S’pretty when you fall apart,” Vegeta murmurs as he nudges his nose down the column of your neck. His thumb brushes gently over your cheek and he trails his nail over your pulsing jugular, your shuddering breaths shaking both your bodies with the closeness, “Come down, come back to me.”


Finally, his hand relents and he pulls his fingers away, leaving your center empty and wanting for more. You can feel your arms again after you release the bed sheets from your fists, and you take advantage of it to touch over the dense planes of muscle on his back and shoulders. Your hands roam up his biceps and drift to his hips, mapping the sinew with the pads of your fingers.


You eventually make eye contact with him again, your irises glassy and wide, the innocence in your gaze alone causing his cock to twitch against his thigh. You see the deepness in his eyes and your stomach churns, hands massaging into the skin of his back. His muscles flex against your touch and it does things to your mind. You want his full weight on top of you as he drives your hips into the mattress.


“There you are,” he mutters, thumb brushing the remainder of the tear away from your cheek. He chuckles, “Sweet little earthling. You think-”


Fuck. Me.


Vegeta reels back, holding himself over the top of you so he can study you fully. He tilts his head, but he barely has time to speak before you yank him down by his neck to kiss him, your free hand cupping him through his fighting gear. He gasps against your mouth and you have the desire to flip him over, so you trail your hand from his neck to his hip, dipping your fingertips in so he knows what you’re trying to do.


You shift yourself at the waist and Vegeta allows you to roll over so you’re straddling him now, the wetness remaining on your thighs dampening the cloth of his pants. He gazes up at you with wide eyes, but it doesn’t take long for his demeanor to reset and he’s got that hardened look in his irises once more. 


You tug on his waistband, and he barks out a laugh, “Should’ve thought about that before you got on top of me, silly thing.”


To help, you raise yourself up so he can shimmy out of his pants, and you’re surprised that he’s not got any underwear on beneath his fighting gear, his cock bare as soon as he pulls the blue spandex from his body.


“Shit,” you whisper impulsively, rocking yourself against his thighs.


Vegeta raises a brow, “Still eager, angel?”


You nod dumbly, your words escaping you as you try to figure how you’ll take him. The idea of him stretching you out brings another wave of slick between your legs and you want him so desperately that a feeble whine slip from between your teeth and tongue.


“That’s what I thought.”


Vegeta picks you up by the hips and you squeal at the sudden movement. You giggle once you realize that he’s not about to throw you across the room, but it’s cut short when you feel the tip of his cock press flush with your clit before slipping between your slick to glide partially into you.


Your mouth parts as he guides you downward, your knees hitting the mattress before you can take him all in.


He must see you wince because he draws you back just enough for you to gather your breath and to get the pained look off your face. The fact that he’s able to hold you in thin air does little to staunch the wetness collecting in your core. You whimper, your hands wrapping around his forearms as you try to steady yourself and keep your eyes from watering because you don’t want him to think you’re weak.


Your fingernails must be drawing blood by how tightly you’re grasping onto him, but he does not complain. Instead, his eyes are trained in on you, tracking your movements with concern settled in his deep irises. His lip is quirked upward and you force yourself to release your hold on his arm so he won’t be so worried for you.


“I-I can do it,” you nod, biting down on your lip as you look him in the eyes. You take a deep breath and press your palms to his chest, rolling your hips as best you can with his firm hold on you.


Vegeta groans and his eyes roll back just enough for you to gain some confidence. You roll your hips again and you’re able to take a little more of him, stretching out your pussy and sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine, causing you to throw your head back.


He takes it as a sign and pulls you by the hips until you’re flush with his waist, a mutual gasp parting both of your lips. You fall forward, your body ghosting over his own as you hover atop him. Your hands are on either side of his head and his fingertips are digging into the soft part of your hips.


The glossy look in your eyes sparks something in the Saiyan and he reaches up to snatch you by the back of your head, balling your hair up into a fist, “You gonna be good, and take my cock like a sweet little bitch?”


You nod, unable to speak. He smirks at your inability to form words and threads his hand into your hair, holding your head tightly as he begins to buck his hips upward in a steady rhythm. Your mouth opens as you pant, eyelids fluttering somewhere between open and closed. Vegeta takes pride in the way your jaw hangs open and your eyes roll behind your lashes.


“Bein’ good,” he mumbles, his mouth knocking into yours as he belligerently slams his hips upward into yours. You feel yourself clenching around him, your tongue rolling in your mouth as you try to hold off from coming too soon. Vegeta licks at your bottom lip, “Such a good little babygirl, hm? Got all these marks on you…”


His thumb pushes into the biggest hickey on your neck and you throw your head back, whining at the sensation. Vegeta takes advantage of your shock to take hold of you by the ass, rocking your hips back and forth on top of his dick. Your toes curl as you feel his cock pulse within your walls and you can’t stop it when you flex yourself around him. The front of his hips manage to brush your clit and you see stars.


A pert slap on your ass brings your attention back to his face. Vegeta’s eyes are hardened as he looks up at you, one hand still tight around your cheek and the other free to continue the harsh spankings.


“Well don’t stop,” he beckons, rolling his hips to get you to go back to your rhythm. “Or else I’ll make it worse.”


If you weren’t already so spent, you’d beg him to make it worse. However, another loud slap resounds in the room when you don’t immediately begin bucking your hips against him. You fall face forward until your forearms are holding you steady over the top of him, your body gyrating to draw out some sort of reaction from him. You rest your forehead on his shoulder, your lips making quick work of his collarbones as his firm hands continue to alternatively spank either of side of your backside.


You tense every time he hits you, your walls contracting around his cock, making him moan against your temple. You lick a stripe up his neck and find yourself murmuring into his ear, “P-Please, ‘Geta. W-Want to feel you come.”


“Then make me,” he grits between his teeth, landing a hard smack with both of his hands. He grips your ass just after, the burning mixed with the sting of his harsh touch making you whimper, ducking your head even further into the crux of his shoulder. You sniffle into his skin, thankful he can’t see your pitiful expression.


“I want to,” you nod, kissing his collarbone for good measure. You continue to tighten yourself around him in an attempt to bring his orgasm sooner, panting and whining against his ear so he’ll grab you harder.


Vegeta bristles and you feel his cock harden as he grows closer to the tipping point. His brows furrow and his palms are hot against your skin, hardened from battle and calloused from war, tearing into your flesh relentlessly. Your ass has practically gone numb, tears threatening to spill over your cheeks as you ride him to coax him to the edge with you.


He growls, “Fuck, good job, angel.”


His searing palm presses against your shoulders and your chest is flat against his as he takes the burden of leading off of your shoulders and starts canting his hips upward into you. He fills you up, the tip of his cock brushing all the way to the back of your stomach and you swear you feel him in your spine.


“Like it when I’m all the way in you, huh? Ya’ like it when you can feel me fuckin’ your tight, wet little-mm,” Vegeta nips at your jaw to try and get your attention. You lean back to look down at him, your chest bobbing with every movement he makes. “Everyone’s gonna-fuck-know who you belong to, looking at that shit on your neck. F-Fuck, gonna make me come, baby.”


You hear yourself begging for his release before you register what you’re doing, your wanton cries echoing in the small space and making you self-consious. Your whole body blushes at the sounds you’re making, but it only spurs Vegeta on, his pace quickening and becoming just sloppy enough for you to know that he’ll be falling over the edge soon enough.


“Please, ‘Geta,” you moan his name lowly against his mouth as you kiss him lazily. His hand slaps over your ass again, causing you to clench around his cock and you let loose one more begging plea before his whole body tenses and then he’s spilling into you. His hips are jerky as he rides out his high, but he doesn’t stop and you can feel the pressure building back up within your stomach.


His thumb finds your most sensitive spot and you squint, “‘G-Geta?”


“Hush, now,” he mumbles. Vegeta’s free palm finds your breast, nipple tweaked between the pads of his fingers. He presses his tongue against yours, coaxing you to play back, pushing your tongue between his teeth. Taking the moment for himself, he sucks your tongue harshly, pulling a whimper from the back of your throat.


Vegeta’s thumb against your clit and his mouth tugging on your tongue combined with the way his hips snap to meet yours brings you closer to your second coming. He releases your tongue in favor of kissing down your jaw, using the momentum to topple you over and switch your positions. His heavy weight pressing into you sends your mind down a thousand different tunnels. 


“C’mon, little woman,” Vegeta encourages, ducking his head to take your nipple in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue. You gasp and dig your head back into the pillow, eyes screwing shut as your body builds with pressure, white noise filtering through your vision. He noses over your cheek, “Come for me, baby.”


It’s like his words are the key to your soul because with his next breath comes your orgasm, your body quivering with energy as you come around his cock, both of your slick dripping down your thighs. He doesn’t pull out of you as soon as you finish, the heat of him making your head dizzy.


Vegeta kisses up your sternum to your mouth, lips locking with yours despite the faraway look in your eyes. He chuckles as you fiddle with his hair at the base of his neck, a lethargic smile of your own tugging your lips upward. You tilt your head to look up at him, the threat of sleepingess washing over your body like a glaze.


“S’glad you finally got the hint,” you twirl a lock of his hair around your finger, tugging just enough to get a reaction from him. He growls and bites at your jaw, making you release him out of sheer instinct.


He presses his lips to the area he’s just bitten, smoothing over the gentle wound. Vegeta slowly shrugs himself away, separating your bodies with a soft sound. You whine at the separation and the Saiyan smirks down at you, “If you don’t hush up, I’m going to make you go another round.”


The idea of having to stay awake to satiate his Saiyan stamina makes your spine tremble. You hide your face behind your palms, embarrasment showing in the form of a pink blush on the tops of your cheeks and ears. Vegeta slowly pulls your hands away, a smile on his face as you glance up at him.


“You’re cute when you get flustered,” Vegeta brushes his knuckles over your cheek, “I’ll have to fluster you again later.”


Your blush darkens and you try to turn your face to hide, but his hand on your face keeps you from it. Vegeta rolls so he’s on his side, arms pulling you forward, “Now, sleep.”


You thread your thigh between his, pulling yourself closer, and tuck your head underneath his chin. Your arms are tucked into the space between your chests but Vegeta’s are palming at your shoulders to keep you anchored to him. He kisses the crown of your head, “I’m serious, earthling. Sleep, or I’ll have to wear you out all over again.”


“Sounds good,” you slur, your eyes closing despite you wanting to feel him fill you up and stretch you out time and time again. You brush your thumb over his pectoral, “R-Rain check?”


Vegeta laughs in your ear, tucking you both underneath the covers as the air conditioner kicks on. The sound of your slurred half-sentences keeps him entertained as you babble your way to unconsciousness. He merely listens to you as he pets his hand over your hair and over your back, trying to tempt you into the realm of slumber.


“Hey, ‘Geta?” 


When you tilt your head to look him in the eyes, he’s carefully considering you with thoughtful eyes. He nods, “Yes, little woman?”


“Next time, I think I want to try to take it even harder.”


There is a strangled noise that rumbles in the back of his throat but you’re yawning and tucking your head back into him before you can think too hard about it. Vegeta shakes his head and fights a smile, “I think that can be arranged.”


The only sounds in the room are gentle snores and heavy breathing mixed with the pounding heart of one Saiyan prince.