debbiechan fanfiction

Always A First Time

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: I can make no claim to owning DBZ, yet I have a masochistic compulsion to tell this damn story.


A/N: Thanks to LisaB for her beta skills and to Rose of Vegetasei who continues to be a champion error-catcher and faithful reviewer. Also, I’m grateful to readers who have been checking out my other fics. Yes, I write nothing but canon timeline stories, so those fics also fit into the same Dbz universe as this story. Your feedback is much appreciated.
debbiechan 5.6.05

Chapter Thirteen: Love

“Use your whole body as eyes to see.” -–Piccolo, on sensing ki, episode 23


Bulma leaned against a deck chair by the huge pool. She wore a lightweight robe that fell across her body in shimmering waves of deep blue fabric. She had kicked off her sandals an hour ago and was now staring at her unpolished toenails. The security lights were a tad brighter than she had expected--maybe she should’ve painted the nails a reflective mother of pearl color?

The midnight alarm set on her bedroom clock should be going off soon. Bulma had hoped to catch a little sleep tonight, but noooo, anticipation usually made sleep impossible on her night. There was a cycle to Vegeta’s madness; she had studied Vegeta’s eating and sleeping patterns with as much circumspection as any fighter would study an opponent’s moves. She knew that after a binge of training, he ate, showered, slept for three or four hours, and then came to her room. Every three days for the past three months he had come to her.

Knowing full well that she wouldn’t wear a swimsuit for long, she had tried on an array of them. Vegeta did notice what she wore. She knew that fact from the slow once-over he gave her body right before he tore her clothes off. Still, she had decided on no suit, just primped-shaved-perfumed nudity, and the blue satin robe--not a bathing robe proper, but she figured she wouldn’t need to be dried off and warmed up by anything other than the heat from Vegeta’s body.

The moon kept appearing and disappearing behind a faint fog of gray.

Was it going to rain on her rendezvous? The idea of being fucked wildly by Vegeta in a summer thunderstorm was appealing, but Bulma wondered if the humidity wasn’t making her hair look too awful before the main event. She got up and walked to the pool’s edge to take a look at herself in the water.

The woman reflected there was a vision of desirability. The cool hues of nighttime light made her skin look so elegant and smooth. Even stray hairs aroused into frizziness by the humidity gave her a tousled and sexy look.

Bulma looked up from her reflection, and there was Yamcha, on the other side of the pool.

She didn’t start. The night was so tranquil and other-worldly, and he was looking at her with such a mild expression--as if he had been watching her for some time and trying to decide how to best announce his presence without scaring her.

He knew. He had to. Why else would she be here at midnight in a slinky robe?

“Guess we both had the same idea.” Yamcha’s voice carried across the width of the pool with such friendly ordinariness; it was a voice that broke the spell of nighttime stillness. “I have no idea why I felt like taking a swim at this hour. Must just be the warm weather.”

Maybe he didn’t know? Yamcha hadn’t always been the brightest crayon in the box.

“I’m--I’m going back inside the house now.” Bulma was seized with anxiety. What would Vegeta think if she saw Yamcha here? Was her robe see-through from where she was standing under the lights? “Looks like it’s going to rain, Yamcha….” Her voice trailed off.

“What’s a little more water?” Yamcha laughed and pulled off his shirt. By the time he started pulling down his jeans, Bulma realized that he had come here without a suit. He and the other Z warriors were such skinny-dippers. She’d never minded that fact until tonight….

Yamcha stripped to his birthday suit and plunged into the pool. Bulma remembered, with a tiny pang of nostalgia, that the Olympic-plus sized pool had been built shortly after Yamcha came to stay at CC. There had been a family pool before this one, but somehow the influx of superstrong warriors at the residence--guys like Krillen and Goku and Yamcha who were accustomed to horseplay of tsunami proportions at Kame house--necessitated the building of this bigger pool.

“Woo! A little chillier than I expected! Give me a minute and I can warm it up with my ki!” Yamcha shook his wet hair out of his eyes. Bulma remembered when his hair was so long that he couldn’t go swimming without it getting incredibly tangled. That was way back before she’d shown him how to use conditioning shampoos.

“You know the rule! No fireballs in the swimming pool.” She had to smile, even though it was a weak, nervous smile. Yamcha really did consider this his pool. He was the kind of guy who would go for a midnight swim.

Why hadn’t she considered the rest of the world when she made her little date with Vegeta? Dumb Bulma, dumb Bulma, you’re the dumbest genius ever….

“No fireballs. Just let me power up a little. I really learned how to control it when training in the Other World.” Yamcha closed his eyes. “Watch. I can just toast some little waves for you.”

“NO!” The last thing Bulma wanted was for Vegeta to sense a warrior powering up. “Stop it, Yamcha. Really, I’m not going swimming. I was just feeling antsy. I’m going inside to watch some t.v.”

Yamcha opened his eyes and gave her a searching look. “What’s the matter, Bulma?”

She knew she must look panicked. She tried to see past the security lights into the darkness for any sign of Vegeta. She glanced upwards into the sky. She looked back at her naked friend in the pool.

A trace of the old shyness crossed Yamcha’s face. “You’re really stressed, huh?” He looked pleased about something but less comfortable all of a sudden. “I know what always makes you feel less stressed. Come on in the water.”

It dawned on her what he meant.

“Yamcha!” Her voice was a small gasp.

For some reason he took her shakiness as some sign that she was turned on? His face lit up with eagerness. “Bulma, I’ve been trying to stay away because you’re so involved in this android business. I’ve really tried not to miss you but….” The softness of his voice clutched at Bulma’s conscience--she felt guilt on top of dread. This was not the time for one of his heartfelt confessions! “I don’t see why we have to wait for another three years to--you know, be there for one another.”

He began to swim to where Bulma stood. Think, think, think. You can talk your way out of this one.

His hands touched the rim of the pool, and his face looked up at hers with all the poignant sincerity it could hold. “Can we really be apart, Bulma? Can we? Me, you--here right now at this hour. Doesn’t it seem right, Bulma?”

“Yamcha, I thought you understood.” Bulma felt miserable. “We don’t have a future together.”

“Don’t think like that, Bulma. The androids can’t take our world away.”

“I’m not talking just about the androids. We don’t have a future together, androids or no androids.”

Her words, conclusive and plain as they were, didn’t seem to be reaching him. His gentle, dreamy expression was unchanged. Then he pressed his palms on the pool bank and began to lift himself out of the water.

“NO!” Bulma’s hand shot out in front of her. “My mom’s coming. She was right behind me when I started out here.” Her voice shot up half an octave. “We were--um, going to have a swim and some girl talk, and….” Bulma took the chance to look over her shoulder in the one direction she hadn’t scoped for Vegeta. “If she sees you here all naked and everything, well--I just don’t want her checking you out!” Bulma attempted a giggle but it sounded strained. “Look, Yamcha. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. I’ll find Mama and go back inside. It’s going to rain, sweetie. You--you just watch out for lightning, ok?”

And with that, she clutched the front of her robe shut, turned heel, and hurried back towards the house.

She didn’t stop until she was in her own bed.

That was so smooth, Bulma Briefs! The clock on her nightstand read a quarter past 12.

Vegeta would come here after not seeing her at the pool, wouldn’t he? Something was going to have to change about their meetings. How much longer could she keep her relationship with Vegeta a secret? She was going to have to tell Yamcha about it or--Gah, what sort of life am I living? I can’t turn the corner without walking into a naked man!

**

Yamcha stood, blinking, still half-submerged in the pool.

It had seemed like perfect destiny, the two of them meeting by the sparkling water like that. Yamcha had never felt so right about something before. What the HELL had just happened?

Bulma’s crazy sometimes.

He wasn’t going to follow her. He was going to swim a few laps and go back to bed, but a darkness passed him; the pool water literally went black, and he felt the presence of something sinister drift across the air.

He looked up, expecting to see a thundercloud.

There were some wisps of gray that had covered the moon--that was all. So what was that feeling?

Then he knew. He wasn’t as accurate at identifying ki as Goku or Piccolo, but he had reason to remember this one. This cold, malevolent power had been there on the battlefield the day he died. It had watched him die, with a detached amusement.

Yamcha felt his blood run cold. Vegeta had been watching him. And the Saiyan’s power had risen--hateful, hard and arrogant, and it was flying nearer….

**

Bulma, still clutching her robe shut, sat on the bed and didn’t move for a very long time. She didn’t dare get up and look around for Vegeta. She didn’t dare walk to the balcony and look towards the pool.

She was frozen with a sense of being trapped in some illicit world. Was it wrong of her to be sleeping with this alien being who had been responsible for the deaths of her friends in the not so distant past? Was it wrong of her to be keeping this information from someone like Yamcha, such a good, good guy who still (oh how obviously!) loved her so much?

Where is Vegeta?

Had she just been thinking of herself? Was it really all about what Bulma Briefs’ mirrored image in the pool? All she had wanted was a little break in the routine, something shared with Vegeta outside this bedroom. She wanted more than just hot sex with a hot alien in a hidden place. And what did Vegeta want? He came here of his own free will every few days, and afterwards, she erased all security footage of his passage from his own bedroom, into the elevator, down the corridor, towards Bulma’s section of the family compound.

Maybe she should just let the videos stand.

After all, he wore clothes when he came to her nowadays. He wasn’t flying in naked through the balcony. He knew that there was a chance he might run into someone late at night in the house.

Did Vegeta care if other people knew? Bulma thought he did; it seemed to follow that his highly paranoid self would think that others would view his coming to her as some sort of exploitable weakness.

But Vegeta did care about her--she could feel it. She felt it in the air, even now--a sort of feral possessiveness.

Then a thought occurred to her.

Vegeta wouldn’t hurt Yamcha, would he?

**

Yamcha lifted himself out of the pool and crouched at the water’s edge, naked and dripping, in a defensive stance. The ki he was sensing was poised for attack--he knew this and was ready.

For one pure moment of blood-rousing courage, Yamcha was prepared to die. He would go down fighting, though, like a warrior who had earned the emblem of Roshi.

Then the threat went away.

Yamcha felt a layer of sweat break past the drops of pool water on his body.

The dark presence had seemed not only to deflate but also to change direction. Yamcha could no longer detect it fully, but he knew that Vegeta’s ki was swerving out of proximity. And there was a muted quality to it, as if the Saiyan was trying to disguise himself.

Then, before Vegeta’s ki completely vanished, Yamcha felt it: a different sort of purpose, a lust like the one for battle but….

Yamcha could see now. It was as if the lesson Roshi had always drilled into him made sense now: Open your heart and know your opponent’s.

Vegeta was flying to Bulma.

Yamcha dropped to his knees, drained of all will, and felt the concrete scrape his skin.

**

A blast of wind at the balcony. The doors flew open and--

Vegeta paused, suspended in the air. His bare toes pointing downwards, a few inches from the floor. His shirt unbuttoned, ends flapping in the wind. His hands held upwards as if about to clutch at something, and his face--

Bulma didn’t have time to read his face before he rushed at her, knocked her from a sitting position to a prostrate one, covered her with his hot weight. The hardness beneath his training shorts was as aggressive as she had ever felt it. His breath was slow, deep panting in her ear.

“Wait….” Bulma managed to say.

“Shut up.”

“No, wait!” She tugged, hard, at a spike of his hair. He didn’t seem to care. She yanked again and yelled this time: “Listen to me, Vegeta, stop it right now.”

He raised his face from where he had been mouthing wild kisses. Bulma’s neck already felt sore from them.

“Hold your horses, Vegeta. What did you see at the pool--or rather, what did you think you saw?”

The oddness of her question seemed to give him pause. “What are you talking about? I saw your miserable former lover start worming his way in the direction of your--” He pinched the lapel of her satin robe. “You were dressed like this for me, not him.”

Bulma felt a surge of delight over Vegeta’s jealousy in spite of her concern for Yamcha. “You didn’t blast him or anything?”

Vegeta snorted. “I have no business with that worm.” He lowered his face against hers and inhaled the scent of her hair. “Do you?”

“No! I mean--I do. In a way, Vegeta. He’s still my friend.” Bulma understood that Vegeta didn’t get the concept of friendship too well, so she tried another explanation. “He--Yamcha lives here because he’s like family. And I still have to see him because I’m helping him prepare for the battle with the androids--”

Vegeta cut her off by biting the top of her ear, and Bulma yelped.

“Lies,” he breathed.

Bulma’s hand flew to her ear. It wasn’t bleeding but it was throbbing. “I’m not lying to you!” Vegeta’s mouth had moved to her other ear; he began to lick it. Bulma forced herself to ask the question before his tongue made her forget it: “Why are you angry?”

Vegeta rose again to look at her face. This time he gave her eyes a more thorough inspection. He put his hands on either side of her face and stared. His elbows were digging, painfully, into her shoulders. “I’m not angry. Why are you talking so much?”

“Because….” The intensity of his stare was unnerving. It would be so easy to shut up now and just fall into sex, but Bulma held fast. “I--I wanted to do something else beside just starting to fuck right away.”

There was something so breathtaking about the way he was holding her head, as if it were made of china, as if he was exerting himself not to crush it to dust by accident or intent.

“You wanted to swim with me in the water.”

“Yes.”

His breath was hot on her face. “Then let’s go to the water.”

Bulma was confused. “But the pool? People live around here. It’s not a good idea.”

He dropped his hands from her face and tucked them under her arms. Before she even realized what he was doing, he had gathered her against his chest. “There are other bodies of water on this planet,” he said, and he levitated off the bed.

Bulma threw her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “We’re--we’re going somewhere?”

They were out the window and into the sky. Bulma was vaguely aware that her robe was fluttering, held onto her body by only the sleeves, and she felt wet summer air on her nakedness.

Yamcha had carried her into flight before, but not like this (Bulma could still feel Vegeta’s arousal against her crotch!), and never had the Earth warrior flown at such dizzying speed, and never had Bulma felt this sort of exhilaration in his arms!

Why am I still comparing him to Yamcha? Bulma felt the air around Vegeta crackle as he flew higher still, into the dampness of a cloud, and elevated his body temperature for her sake. I was in love with Yamcha once, and so what do I call what I’m feeling for Vegeta?

She knew it then. She was falling--no, rising!--in love with Vegeta.

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