Chapter Text
He was getting real fucking tired of this shit.
Vegeta was exhausted, damn near collapsing by the time he made it to his ship. Sinking back into his seat, he let his tail slip free from his waist, punched in the coordinates for the next assignment, and launched out into the atmosphere with both Raditz and Nappa following close behind.
As he felt his body begin to give, he fought off the urge to pass out so that he could pull up the mission briefing. He began lazily scrolling through the notes... yet another planet resisting compliance, with them being sent in to clear out the resistance.
Glancing over at the glowing green monitor, the planet's projection put them a few hours out, giving him enough time to get some rest.
Or at least try, seeing how it was nearly impossible in this piece of shit. He and his Saiyan teammates were, of course, assigned three of the smallest and most outdated pods in the lot. Small, cramped, with hardly any leg room for even someone of his stature.
Vegeta let out a frustrated groan, shifting in his seat in an attempt to stretch his legs. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd actually slept in a real bed. Time seemed to have lost all meaning, slipping through his fingers with every planetary conquest.
Mission after mission. Planet after planet. Days bleeding into weeks, into months. Hell, for all he knew, it had been years since he'd had a decent night's sleep.
Sure, he thrived in the chaos of war. Lived for the moments where he cut down his enemies, got his hands so bloody that it soaked through his gloves, the feel of his muscles burning, the sweat pouring off of his skin with one intense battle after the other... but only if it was on his own terms, when he chose to do so and never by the command of some pompous, reptilian bastard.
Hmph. Freeza.
The name alone made his blood boil. That frigid tyrant had the audacity to dictate to him—a prince, for fuck’s sake—what to do, who to kill, and whether they even deserved time off from their missions. It was unbearable and utterly humiliating to be reduced to such bullshit. It wouldn't have surprised him if running them ragged like this was intentional. Pushing them this far, wearing them down, and waiting for the inevitable. Even the most minor slip-up could leave him and his team injured. Or worse, cost them their lives, making it so that every last Saiyan was conveniently dead and buried.
Vegeta dug his fingers into the armrest, feeling that feral Saiyan rage burning deep inside him with every passing thought, begging to tear Freeza limb from fucking limb, to reduce him to nothing but a worthless pile of scraps, and to be rid of him for good.
One day, Vegeta swore to himself, Freeza will get what’s coming to him.
He shifted in his pod, shoulder pressed against the white padded wall, and started to close his eyes. Just as he felt himself start to drift off, a beeping sounded from his scouter, startling him and making him jolt upright in his seat. The exhaustion must have been getting to him more than he originally thought if a simple call could catch him off guard like that.
Shaking himself awake, he clicked over to view the transmission, eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar contact.
Probably one of Freeza's new lap dogs calling to bark more orders. Perfect.
Vegeta rolled his eyes and clicked over to the line. “What?”
There was a small gasp on the other end, then finally they spoke.
“Oh, wow. Someone actually answered?” a soft, very feminine-sounding voice replied.
“Clearly. Now what the hell is it that you want? Does Freeza have another destination he’d like to add to this miserable trip?”
A giggle burst through his speaker. “Well, aren’t you a feisty one.”
Feisty?
Her response caught him off guard. Women in Freeza's army weren't unheard of, but none had ever been so forward with him—and he sure as hell didn't know what to make of it or this strange person.
“Woman, will you get on with it?! I don’t have all day!”
“Listen here, buddy, I'm not sure who this Freeza guy is, but it's got nothing to do with me.” She paused. "Either way, it sounds like he's on your shit list, that's for sure."
She wasn't wrong, but if she wasn't working for Freeza, then who was she and what did she want? And more importantly, how the hell did she get his frequency? It was supposed to be classified.
"Is that so? Then tell me... just who the hell are you, and how did you get this contact? This is a private line."
Another laugh erupted. “Chill out. Look, we found this round pod that I’m guessing was some sort of spaceship. There was a communicator inside that was pretty broken, but of course, with me being a genius and all, I was able to fix it no problem. And it just so happens that your frequency was the only one saved on it.”
“As for WHY I’m calling... well, we discovered my friend was found as a child in that pod and has no memory whatsoever of it or where he came from before that. I figured I’d try this contact and see—”
Vegeta could feel himself growing annoyed at this point. The woman was rambling about some trivial nonsense and interrupting what little peace he had before his next assignment.
Through with the incessant babbling, he cut her off. “And what does that have to do with me? Your problems are not my concern.”
This time, there was no laughter that followed, but an irritated huff instead.
"LIKE I WAS SAYING... that is, before I was so rudely interrupted, my friend Goku was found on that ship. I was hoping you could help fill in those missing gaps in his memory and maybe shed some light on where he came from, since you are the only connection we have."
Goku? The name wasn’t familiar to him.
Despite himself, Vegeta was curious.
He pressed the button on his control panel to bring up his planetary log, entering the coordinates linked to the woman’s device.
Planet 4032-877, otherwise known as Earth to its residents.
He stared at the location for a moment, certain he'd heard it before. Sending a child off in a pod was something his people did with the weaker Saiyan children—and then it hit him. Raditz had brought up his younger brother Kakarot on more than one occasion, saying he'd been sent off shortly before their home planet was destroyed. He'd even talked about stopping there to recruit him for backup, and if memory served, this could very well be that planet.
It could also explain how she got his frequency. Raditz's father must have saved it, likely to contact him as the leader of their squad once the planet had been taken over.
Which, clearly, never happened.
However, she did mention that this idiot lost his memory after all. That could explain why the planet was still intact and why he didn't go by his true Saiyan name.
But could this Goku really be Kakarot? He couldn't be too sure just yet.
Deciding it was worth pursuing, he figured he could humor the woman a little while longer. Get what he needed out of her before trying to get back to the rest he so desperately craved.
“This Goku you mentioned, describe him to me.”
“Well, he doesn’t look that much different than us humans if he is some sort of alien. He has black spiky hair. Really strong. Like crazy strong, actually. Maybe even the strongest person on our planet,” she rattled off.
Vegeta hummed, scratching his chin in thought. It matched, but it still wasn’t enough to go on.
“OH! And he used to have this long brown monkey tail. That’s actually the main reason why I reached out. He has a son and he was born with one too. We were worried because when Goku was younger, he ended up turning into this giant monster and went all crazy—”
“An Oozaru.” Vegeta interrupted.
“A what now?”
“An Oozaru,” he repeated. “That was what he transformed into. We Saiyans transform when we look upon the moon. If not trained properly, the beast takes over completely, losing all sense of control and going on a destructive rampage.”
That settles it then, he thought. This was definitely Kakarot. There were no other Saiyans left besides him, Raditz, and Nappa. The only other one unaccounted for was his brother Tarble, but his whereabouts had been unknown for years, and it was highly doubtful it was him.
"So you know what this is, then? We weren't sure whether removing the tail was the right call. Goku’s was removed long ago, but we wanted to see if there was something else we should know."
“Removing his tail takes away potential benefits for the child, a power he could possess if he learned to control it. I would not recommend its removal. To do so is a disgrace to his Saiyan heritage.”
It wasn’t a lie, but he didn’t come out and say the full truth behind his words.
If they cut off the tail, it could cost him a potential gain when the time came to take down Freeza, should he decide to recruit them for his cause. Freeza was too powerful a foe, and he needed any and all advantage he could get. And who knew how weak this child had grown up to be on that mudball of a planet. That untamed Oozaru might be the only real asset the boy had and one worth keeping when the time came to use it.
"I see," she said slowly, as if piecing it all together. "So Goku and his son Gohan are Saiyans, then. You said 'we' earlier, so you're a Saiyan as well?"
“I am.”
"Sooooo... does that mean you have a tail too?" He caught the unmistakable shift in her tone, turning into something more playful and teasing.
"Are we done here? I have more important matters," he scoffed, brushing off what he assumed was flirtatiousness and not dignifying her question with an answer.
Silence stretched across the line after that. If it wasn’t for his scouter showing that there was still an active connection, he would have assumed she’d hung up, finally being rid of her.
Just as he was about to disconnect the call, he heard a drawn-out hum that was dangerously close to a moan, stopping him dead in his tracks. The delicate sound of her voice vibrated through his ear, causing him to straighten further in his seat, and the fur on his tail to bristle.
“Still so feisty, I see. It’s a shame you want to leave so soon.” Her voice dropped to a low, breathy whisper. “I quite like hearing the sound of your voice. It’s so soothing and... rough.”
Vegeta's eyes shot up, his tail snapping back around his waist and squeezing tight against the unfamiliar heat pooling in his stomach.
“W-what?! My voice—I—” he managed to stammer out before raising his voice to a shout. “What does that have to do with anything?!”
"Hmmmm," she purred, as if enjoying his outburst, "besides the tail, what do you look like?"
“EXCUSE ME?! I thought you were calling about the Saiyan? Again, what does this have to do with anything?!”
“It doesn’t. I’m just curious if you’re as cute as you sound. Oh, and in case you’re wondering what I look like, I have short blue hair, dazzling blue eyes to match, and a figure that more than fills out in all the right places. I’ve been told that I’m quite beautiful, so really, you should feel lucky you’re even talking to me.”
“Cute?! I’m not—shut up, woman!”
“It’s Bulma, actually.”
“What?”
“My name. That way, you don’t have to keep calling me woman.”
His jaw tightened, trying to find the words but coming up blank.
“I bet it’ll sound nice coming from you. Go on... give it a try.” She paused, letting her words sink in before whispering, “Say it.”
Those words hit him hard, knocking the air from his lungs. He felt his pulse quickening, his face growing hotter, burning down his neck and scorching his skin.
He knew what this vulgar woman was implying, where this conversation was heading if he let it continue. Sure, he was inexperienced—never having been with a woman, but he was no fool. He knew the signs.
During those rare moments of downtime, both Raditz and Nappa made a habit of disappearing into the nearest bar or brothel on whatever shithole of a planet they were stationed at. Being continuously dragged along to witness their pathetic encounters, left to find the darkest corner available, and nurse the strongest drink he could get his hands on just to get through the night.
And it wasn’t like he hadn’t had his own offers. He had plenty of opportunities to slip into the warmth and comfort of another… but he was never interested. Felt nothing for them.
Yet here he was, slowly losing his grip on his own sanity, giving in to a need he had never once felt before. For a pushy, insufferable woman he had never met, never even seen. Just her voice, sinking into every last nerve, stirring something deep inside him—and growing uncomfortably hard.
“I don’t mind waiting. Say it whenever the mood strikes... Can I have your name?”
“Vegeta,” he replied, his name slipping out unintentionally, still lost in a daze and wrapped up in whatever spell she effortlessly weaved him into.
“Ohhh, I like that.”
A small sigh escaped her, breath catching ever so slightly and whispering...
“Mmm, Vegeetaaa...”
She said his name as if she were tasting it. To feel the shape of it on the tip of her tongue before letting it part through what he could only imagine were full, luscious lips.
He had never heard his name said so sweetly before, someone enjoying the sound of it... And fucking hell, he did too. Unbearably so.
His breath hitched, his name on her lips sending a chill straight down his spine, and causing his cock to twitch. He grasped his knee, jaw clenched tight, trying to force down the strange arousal coursing through him—and failed. Unable to stop the pitiful, broken whimper from escaping.
As if punished—or maybe rewarded—by his slip-up, she gave a soft moan in response.
“Oh, my god. Vegeta... are you—”
Fuck! She heard him.
Panic flooded through him. Mortified by the fact that he was undone simply by the sound of this woman’s voice. That she heard just how much it affected him. Vegeta flushed an even brighter shade of red, his hand shooting up to his scouter and pressing the button without a second thought, cutting off the call. He then ripped it from his ear, hurling it to the floor near his feet, and clawed at the collar of his armor.
What the fuck was that?
His breath sawed in and out in ragged pants, the sound of it filling the small space of his pod until he felt like he was suffocating.
He shut his eyes to try and calm himself, but visions of her flashed behind them. Blue hair and eyes. The full, soft curves of her body. That voice of hers filling his head once again with those breathy sounds, that heavenly moan, and the echo of his name repeated over and over again until it was all he could hear.
He forced his eyes open, gaze dropping down to his aching cock straining against his pants. His hand trembled, hovering over it and debating whether to just give in.
It wasn’t like he’d never done it before—but this need had never been so fucking overwhelming.
He couldn’t hold back anymore. Letting out a shaky breath, he gave in to the desire and dropped his hand to his thigh. His fingers traced slowly inward, dragging along his hardened length, feeling just how desperately he needed this. When he finally pressed his palm firmly over his throbbing cock, the pressure drew a sharp hiss through his teeth, stilling just for a moment before letting himself sink back into it.
He dragged his palm from the base all the way up to the tip, thumb gliding around the outline of his head, feeling the wet heat of precum already soaking through the fabric before his fingers slipped around it and gave it a tight squeeze.
His body responded instantly, spasming at the touch, moaning without care or embarrassment this time—finally freeing the carnal need she had unleashed in him.
He lost all restraint after that, shamelessly chasing the friction with every stroke. Picturing that woman again, his fingers running through blue hair, bringing that lewd mouth of hers to his cock. To imagine what it would feel like around him, if she would make that humming sound around it like she did his name, if she would enjoy it just as much.
He could hear it. His name on her lips. Moaning it, screaming it.
His pace became faster, his hips rolling into his palm, working himself harder until he tossed his head back against his headrest. His tail uncoiled from his waist, curling beneath the underside of his cock and matching the relentless rhythm. Envisioning her thighs wrapping around him, feeling what it would be like to lie with a woman, this woman. To fuck her until both of their needs were met and she was his and his alone.
Warmth sank low in his gut, the ache becoming almost unbearable, desperate for release. His grip tightened, sending him over the edge as he came hard with a loud, guttural moan... and pulling her name right along with it.
“Bulma.”
She told him to give it a try. To say it whenever the mood struck—and he found, to his own irritation, that he liked it just as much as hearing her say his. He eased back in his seat, chest heaving, staring blankly up at the ceiling of his pod. The warmth of his climax spread down his leg, soaking through the fabric of his pants and clinging uncomfortably to his skin.
He shifted slightly, embarrassed with himself for getting caught up so quickly, and quietly hoped he had a spare set of clothing packed away somewhere.
As the last tremor faded and his body finally settled, he found that her voice still rang in his ears...
... And her name still lingered on his tongue.
