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“You know,” Bulma began as she removed one of her dangly diamond earrings. Via his partial reflection in the vanity mirror, she could see Vegeta behind her where he was seated in the armchair just inside their shared walk-in closet. He’d unbuttoned the vest of his suit jacket, and his tie was undone, hanging limply around his neck as he leaned down to loosen the laces on his shiny black loafers. He hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction, but Bulma knew he was listening nonetheless, “everyone complimented me tonight.”
As she finished, she gingerly placed her second earring back in the velvet-lined drawer before closing it. With a purposeful sway in her hips, she waltzed over to the cushioned bench in front of the full-length mirror that was mounted on the wall at the back of the closet, the pleats of her crimson, satiny gown billowing around her as she went. She lifted one foot onto the bench, making a subtle but pointed show of raising her slender leg through one of the thigh-high slits in her dress and bent at the waist to unbuckle the straps of her stiletto heel.
From her peripheral, Bulma could see that Vegeta had stood, having just shucked off his suit jacket as he deftly undid his button down that he’d already untucked from the waist of his slacks. She may not have had his undivided attention before, but judging by the way his dark eyes roved greedily over the generous swell of her ass, she certainly did then.
“On my hair,” Bulma continued as she pulled off her shoe. She made fleeting eye contact with Vegeta in the mirror as she raised and lowered to alternate legs, noting that he was bare-chested and had just begun unzipping his pants, “on my makeup, on my jewelry,” the second heel joined the other in a pile on the floor directly below the shelf on which they belonged in typical Bulma fashion, “on my dress… Speaking of which,” she paused as she stood to her full height, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. She batted her long lashes innocently at him, her fingers poised over the pull of the zipper along her spine, “would you mind?”
Vegeta’s pants slinked to the floor, and he stepped out of them as he swaggered over to his wife in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs and matching tall socks, expression stoic as ever. His body betrayed his indifferent demeanor, though. His cock was already rising to her challenge, an obvious sizable endowment protruding from the crotch of his underwear, and Bulma’s top teeth sank harshly into her lower lip as she warred internally with the raging desire to stare and drool and moan at the very sight of it. Her little guilt trip shtick seemed to be working splendidly already.
“Everyone complimented me,” she persisted as she felt his callused fingertips graze over her skin, “everyone except my own husband, that is.” She wasn’t expecting Vegeta to wrench her zipper all the way down in one fell swoop, and the startled gasp that rushed out of her chest denoted as much. He glared at her through the mirror with jet-black eyes ablaze but narrowed warily, thin lips pressed into a tight line. Bulma stared back, slightly slack-jawed and wide-eyed, but her features quickly softened when she realized that he was on to her.
“A frivolous compliment – is that what you want from me? To feed your insatiable vanity?” Vegeta inquired flatly as he pinched the clasp of her strapless bra. Bulma felt it loosen its stranglehold on her chest just before he shimmied it down the length of her body alongside her dress.
She stood before him then in only a pair of lace panties that she’d had every intention of seducing him with, but his rude remark promptly ruined every bit of fun she’d been having prodding him. Bulma was well aware that she could be quite conceited, but in the moment, the matter was neither here nor there. This was about him and his neglect of his husbandly duties, not her and her long-standing obsession with her appearance. She fully expected Capsule Corp employees to fawn and swoon over her, especially at a swanky annual gala where they were served a five-star, ten-course meal and had unfettered access to an open bar all courtesy of the company; however, she didn’t think she should have to harbor the same expectation for her husband.
Despite having been married to him for years, knowing full and well that Vegeta just simply didn’t do romance, Bulma planted her fists on her hips and scowled at him in the mirror, looking more like the Saiyan prince than she ever had as she spat, “Listen here, you arrogant fucking prick, I – “
The large, bronzed hand that suddenly reached around in front of her to encircle her throat immediately cut off her degrading tirade and hauled her backward. For a second, Bulma’s arms flailed then her hands instinctively gripped onto the wrist at her neck and the forearm that divided her breasts, the pressure it applied to her sternum a hair’s breadth from painful. He could probably feel her heart hammering against her ribs – and hear it, too, with his freakishly heightened senses, but a few reorienting blinks and the sharp intake of a grounding breath reminded her that it was just Vegeta, who ultimately meant her no harm. Well, maybe a little… but just the right amount.
Flush against him, Bulma could feel that he was naked save for his socks, likely having peeled off his underwear faster than she could perceive while she was berating him. His scorching breath puffed against the shell of her ear, stray strands of her azure hair tickling her cheek with each of his exhales. His dark gaze was solid, stern, and smoldering. It alone would’ve rooted her to the spot where she stood had he not already had her physically fixed to it.
But the best part of it all: he was rock-hard, his hot cock pressing insistently against her ass. Bulma fought adamantly against the urge to smirk triumphantly for fear that he might leave her high and dry, walking away entirely if he thought even for a moment that he wasn’t in charge here.
“It’s not enough for you, is it?” Vegeta rasped into her ear, his lips brushing against her skin. She shivered as goosebumps cropped up all over her bare flesh, though her svelte brows furrowed. Vegeta noticed the small gesture in her reflection and comprehended it as his silent cue to elaborate: “Having the attention of everyone in the room,” he paused as he reached between her thighs with his other hand and abruptly ripped her panties completely off her body. She yelped in surprise at the brief stinging sensation that fizzled across her skin, but the sound came out as more of a strangled wheeze as Vegeta tightened his grip on her throat, her vision beginning to fuzz at the edges, “hearing them sing your praises, watching them prostrate themselves at your feet.”
He nipped the soft spot behind her ear, the one he knew drove her mad and ghosted his fingertips over the cleft of her folds. Unabashedly, Bulma was already soaking wet for him, and she squirmed and whined in his grasp, searching futilely for more contact until the flex of his fingers around her neck stilled her. “Men and women alike want to be you, to be with you…” he trailed off as his fingers delved between her labia, gathering the slick that seeped from her molten core as they traveled down then back up to swirl the natural lubricant around her engorged clit. Bulma jolted at the added friction, her hips wantonly bucking into his hand, and she hoarsely whimpered his name as her mind began to float listlessly from both lack of blood and oxygen.
Suddenly, Vegeta’s chokehold on her slackened, their massive closet brightening and blooming around her on a desperately deep inhale, and his index finger raised from her neck to tilt her chin back over her shoulder. From beneath shuttered lashes, she exchanged glances between his midnight eyes and his swollen, slightly parted lips, noticing a rosy flush in his cheeks akin to the one in her own as he whispered into her open mouth, “…to be inside you.” He promptly plunged two fingers into her sopping cunt, and Bulma gasped sharply. It trailed off into a dreamy sigh, her body delighted by the fullness, but even as he scissored and curled them, working her open and swirling around her sweet spot, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Nothing ever compared to the way the thick cock that twitched eagerly and pitifully leaked against her backside filled and stretched her so perfectly.
He kissed her gently at first then steadily increased the pressure and voracity, his fingers mimicking the actions of his lips and tongue. He quickly reduced her to a moaning, writhing mess, putty in his hands as he doled out her pleasure at a pace far too agonizingly slow for her taste, but she was at his mercy, just like he liked it.
“But none of them… ever get to… see you like this, do they?” he asked breathlessly, panting as he pulled away. He turned her face back to the mirror, forcing her to watch his maddening ministrations between her legs as the hand that had been around her throat skimmed over her flesh until it reached the back of one of her thighs. He lifted it carefully, his fingers sliding down to the crook of her knee to pull her leg aside and place her foot back on top of the bench in front of them.
“They never get to see you splayed like this, so flushed and desperate…” Vegeta inched closer then, and Bulma could feel his cock glide between her thighs, watched in the mirror as the gentle canting of his hips spread her apart. Her toes curled every time his weeping tip caught inside her, her body throbbing with the need to be filled. It was too much but also woefully not enough all at once, so Bulma did for herself what she’d been desperate for her husband to do all night: she shot her hand down between her legs, fisted his cock in it, and abruptly shoved it inside her.
They both groaned at the shock of all the new sensations, jolts of white-hot electricity skittering along their nerves as they slotted together, but despite the onslaught of synapses firing in her brain, Bulma managed not to move her hand. She held it firmly against her sex to keep Vegeta inside her, only tentatively venturing to move her fingers once he began thrusting shallowly. The heightened angle of her leg allowed for deeper penetration, and the position they stood in ensured that every tilt of his hips pressed the head of his cock into all the right places.
Vegeta chuckled darkly into her ear, and Bulma whimpered, her walls clenching briefly around him as she nearly came then and there from the sound alone. Gods, she loved that rich, silky bedroom voice of his. “And they certainly never get to see you stretched and filled like this, touching yourself like the needy little wretch you are…” He nibbled her earlobe as his fingers trailed down her arm and joined her own, working her clit into a frenzy. Bulma was gone in a matter of seconds, bordering on being unmade, and she barely registered his statement as he commanded, “Tell me what you want.”
The only word Bulma’s mouth could breathlessly form around was, “More…”
Vegeta snickered again, the speed of his thrusts increasing marginally, and Bulma gasped as her eyes rolled into her skull. “More, hmm?” he hummed. “More of this?” For a fraction of a second, he pounded into her mercilessly, his fingers overpowering her own to rub furiously at her clit. All Bulma could manage was broken whispers in the affirmative until her mouth hung open in a silent scream, but as quickly as release approached, it retreated when Vegeta slowed his pace. Bulma writhed against him again, all but begging aloud for him to take her back to the edge, but it was to no avail for the power in their dynamic had shifted entirely to Vegeta.
“No, I don’t… think so…” he panted. They were dripping sweat, skin sticking to skin as flesh slapped against flesh, and Bulma could feel the moisture in his scorching breath collecting behind her ear as he questioned, “No, it’s… a compliment… that you want, right?” Vegeta hesitated as he stared into his wife’s half-lidded aquamarine eyes in the mirror, her pupils blown so wide that her irises were nearly impossible to see. “You want me to tell you what an absolute vision you were in that dress, how stunning and radiant you looked commanding the room.”
Bulma’s thighs quivered in anticipation, her pelvis thrumming with her impending climax. She ground her hips against Vegeta’s insistently, shamelessly drunk and high off of everything he was giving her. “Yes…” she choked out.
“You want to hear that you look even more beautiful like this,” he continued, “that you look positively sublime taking my cock.”
That was it. That was all Bulma could take, all she needed for the coil deep in her belly to unwind and collapse her into a shuddering, wailing, gelatinous heap. Her walls clenched so hard around Vegeta that he came, too, a familiar warmth spreading between her thighs as he emptied himself inside her with a muffled groan into her neck. They breathed together raggedly through the comedown, leaning on each other for support until Vegeta softened completely and slipped out of her.
“Satisfied, are we?” Vegeta asked as he pressed a chaste kiss to her sweaty temple. Bulma just grinned and nodded, basking in his touch behind closed eyes. He smirked at her in the mirror and gave her hip a firm squeeze before leaving the closet for their en suite bathroom.
Once she heard the closet door close, Bulma opened her eyes to study her reflection in the mirror. For the first time in years, she didn’t recognize herself. Her skin glowed in a way that it never had after sex, not even when she’d been pregnant. She’d never been one to get off on praise, but when those words came tumbling out of Vegeta’s mouth, words he used so sparingly but never once without meaning them so deeply and honestly, something inside her had been so wholly appeased that she was helpless but to succumb to it.
Her vanity, she realized then – it had been her vanity that he’d appealed to. Vegeta had said that was what she needed, but Bulma had just simply refused to believe him. Frankly, however, if her narcissism were truly that fragile and her attempts to coax a few fond sentiments out of her husband got her railed like that every time, Bulma thought she might fish for compliments from her surly prince more often.