Chapter Text
Do Not Fuck the Merchandise
Part 1
Once had been enough, Vegeta did not need to hear it again. And he'd happily be shot in the back of the head if he was ever fucking stupid enough to touch one of them.
Growing up rough had taught him a lot. About other shitheads. About himself. The way of things on the streets.
Do not fuck the merchandise.
Simple .
The glow came before the soft buzz. This new phone was calm, the settings placating his overactive senses. A text gave the location, and a time. Then came her name. Robin.
One click and he was calling. “Yeah, just got it.” He barely put any effort into the reply. No need to. This job was just to get a foot in the door. Nothing else. “Tell her I'll pick her up at the club.”
The boss's newest prized possession. A snobby rich girl looking to get her toes wet on the ‘other side’. Very lucrative, she’d get them higher rates. So, he was charged with protecting her, huh? That meant if there was a mark on her, he'd get his ass kicked.
A street rat, made into a war veteran, turned petty criminal could handle it. Predicting when shit was about to go down was his speciality. This would be easy money.
Walking through the club door, Vegeta spun his key ring, using the fidgeting movement to concentrate. His eyes swept the room. Probably should’ve asked what the chick looked like, could’ve saved himself from a conversation with Raditz. But that would’ve made him look incompetent to the dick doling out the jobs.
So, talk to the annoying fuck he must. “Who’s the new one?” Vegeta leaned up on the end of the bar. A spot for the guards, and sometimes the girls doing their paperwork. He marked himself in the book, time in - 7:55pm.
Raditz turned his attention to the group of women bouncing around on an empty dance floor. Most were dressed in club attire, for when the club opened. But most were draped in various levels of sex appeal.
Before the man even said it, Vegeta had his eyes on her. Bright blue hair that bounced onto her shoulders. Her small black corset top looked custom made, perfect fit to her curves. Pants and heels were just as tailored. Luxurious. Expensive. As she was. The high-end girlfriend experience.
“That one.” Raditz finally said. He was too late, though. But Vegeta made a point to follow the man's finger all the same. “Got a great set of tits on her, and a posh little mouth to match.”
A sigh accompanied his push away from the bar. “Tell her I’m ready. I’m going out for a smoke.” After he finished the words, his eyes drifted back over to her. This time, her attention was on him. Bright blue eyes fixated, suggesting something to him he couldn’t quite read. And honestly, he didn’t want to. Vegeta broke off the connection and headed outside.
Twenty god-damn-fucking minutes she had him waiting. Which wasn’t a surprise really, the girls never liked to be early. Part of the appeal, keep the men waiting. And this one looked as if she hadn’t waited for anything. Ever. When the door to the car finally opened, he flinched slightly. Fingers tapped on the steering wheel out of habit, attempting to relax him.
He wasn’t bothered. She wouldn’t get under his skin.
“Sorry.” It came out in a long drawl, full of pretension. “I totally got side tracked.”
Yeah, uh huh. For someone who smelt like a sweet little meal, there was an air of shit floating about her. “I get paid either way.” Less time with her was probably for the best anyway. “Put your seatbelt on.”
The second she did as he commanded, the man’s foot activated the pedal, shifted into gear and took off. He was awarded a small giggle, and as he looked at her in the rear view mirror his smile grew. Odd.
“Hey.” She was high pitched, tickling inside his ear. But he liked it. “Go easy, I’m already nervous enough.” Then she was looking into the mirror, her returning smile mischievous.
Next time, do as you’re told and don’t be late.
He wanted to scold her. This one might even like it. But he didn’t say anything. Just returned his eyes to the road and slowed down for a set of lights.
“What’s your name?”
Did they really have to do this? “Vegeta,” he said.
A little hum came first. “That’s an unusual name. Sounds like you’re from abroad?” The sweet little rising inflection turned the statement to a question.
From abroad? Gods, she really was a privileged little bitch. Next she’ll be asking where he comes from, and how long has he been here.
“It’s a Saiyan name.” One of power and respect. But he doubted she’d know, or care.
The woman was giggling again. Apparently enjoying the fact. “It sounds sexy.” The words came laced with an inviting vibration.
For a silly little rich chick, she knew what she was doing. That tone and vague connotation almost made his dick stir. Vegeta found himself wondering how much they charged the cashed-up moron she was going to talk rings around.
Poor sucker.
Thankfully, the rest of the way was silent, save the radio at a low level. The car he’d been given to drive fit the valet service. A little black sports car with more guts than most people he knew. The hotel was happy to take the keys from him while she struggled out of the car. Vegeta held out his hand, and she took it happily. Then came her oversized fur coat, offered to his free hand.
For fuck sake. Reduced to a fucking maid.
She went ahead of him, while he checked in her coat. A truly fancy place. A tight pang told him he needed to at least try to blend in, so the man rolled down his sleeves and buttoned his shirt up all the way. Tail tucked away and wrapped around the top of his pants. The tattoo’s didn’t need to make an appearance tonight.
There was a clear divide in the restaurant. The superior ones up on a slight mezzanine level, the tables spread further apart. Vegeta was led to his own little table by the entrance to the kitchen. Still, he could see her at least. And it was more comfortable back here anyway. He could see three exits from where he sat.
Already seated, the woman was working her magic. Truly an expert. Pushing escaped strands of hair back behind her ear, leaning in and giggling at everything he said. Money's worth? Hardly. But Vegeta knew these kinds of men, and it wasn’t that they couldn’t get chicks. They definitely could. This was just a power move, a status symbol. Like owning a car you would never ride.
This one though, the man might ride.
A sudden stabbing came in the middle of his chest, awarding him a deep cough. Faces turned to see if he was alright. The attention lighting the flush already racing across his cheeks a deeper red. A passing waiter placed a cup of water and smiled at him to add to the insult.
Great. Couldn’t even fucking eat properly. He spent the rest of the meal convincing himself he hadn’t almost choked just by thinking of her getting smashed by some old yuppy cunt.
Vegeta never was a very convincing liar.
After his meal was finished, and he settled his bill, he got up. The blue eyes of the woman met his. I’ll be done soon, they told him. Vegeta just nodded, pulling out a cigarette and wiggling it at her. She had seen it, but spent no more time looking at him. Instead she lent across the table, softly stroking the man.
Fast learner. Touch was as good a manipulation as any. Even he was forced to endure the practice in the club. The girls thought he was like the rest of the men who worked there. Stupid, with all their blood supply in one appendage.
Don’t fuck the merchandise.
He was up against a wall a little away from the hotel entrance, her coat hanging off his forearm. Eyes on the door to make sure she came out ok. A flick of his wrist told him she had another two minutes and he’d be going back in. The filter to his lips, he took another long drag of smoke. It was a terrible habit, one he would need to quit at some point. If his nerves ever allowed him to.
A sudden voice tripped those hyperactive nerves, coercing a jolt from the man. “You didn’t ask my name.” It was the rich little bitch. She had a sour look that did nothing to diminish her gorgeous features. “What if I was kidnapped? You wouldn’t know what to tell the police.”
Vegeta scoffed, another smile escaping. She was good at getting those from him. He’d have to work on that. “I wouldn’t go to the fucking cops.”
“Oh?” In the same movement, she was up against the wall next to him, taking his cigarette. “What would you do, then?”
Instead of answering her, he looked around. The pompous old man wasn’t leaving with a driver, or picking up his car. “Where is he?”
He didn’t know why it mattered. It just did. Maybe he’d just been through enough bad situations to be three steps ahead at all times.
A deep inhale, and smoke drifted into the air, bringing back his attention to the woman. “Did you hear me? You didn’t ask me my name.”
He did hear her. And she was pissing him off with this shit.
Brows furrowed and his voice deepened while he spoke softer. “Tell me where he is.” He was firmer now. Brats only responded to tone sometimes. It was important, she had to know that.
Along with another draw of his cigarette, her eyes remained stuck in his intense glare. Did she just shiver? Instinctually he pulled up the coat, offering it to her.
At first she didn’t move. “He’s inside, I declined his offer to go up stairs.” Then she shivered again. With a push she was off the wall. “Because the offer was beneath me.”
A silent scoff this time came with a scowl. A sudden need to go smash the fucks head in presented itself. Lucky he had more control than to be a slave to his own fleeting feelings. A worse conundrum was why he cared at all.
The moment passed as she was busy allowing him to help with her coat. He truly was getting paid as a fucking maid, apparently.
“You want me to go and have a word with him?” It was probably a good idea. A low ball offer was as much as a disrespect to her, as it was their boss. But the girl just shook her head.
“I took care of it, Vegeta .” Now she was back, facing him, a big grin somehow making her more alluring.
Little shit. He wasn’t playing this game.
With a tilt of his head he gave her a new command. Without a word, he walked over to the valet. But still her voice came from behind. “Vegeta?”
Nope. He wasn’t playing.
“Wait.” Heels clacked and he winced. “Vegeta, you didn’t ask me what my name is.”
Keys reclaimed and a hefty tip paid, then they were walking to the car. “I know your name.” He said.
“No you don’t” She was full of contempt now, the sound of her shoes intensifying.
Why was this so important to her? They needed space between them if this was going to be an easy gig. Somehow, he already knew she wanted this to be anything other than simple for him.
Vegeta sighed, opening the back door for her. “I know all I want to know, Robin.”
Eyes met again, this time hers were darker. Or were they just dilated? “You’re a jerk.”
“Uh huh.” He murmured. A hand held out, and she was gripping it. “I’m happy to hear you think so.”
Before she dipped into the vehicle, her eyes narrowed. An exasperated sound was the only noise she made the entire way back. This time the silence felt uncomfortable, but he still preferred it over her incessant chattering.
Maybe he should piss her off often. It could work in his favour. At some point she’d get tired of his rough exterior and ask for someone else to watch over her. He just wasn’t the man for the job.
This time when he pulled up, there was a long line waiting to get into the club. Apparently they were all just witnesses for the little brat riding along in the car. When he went to help her out, she pushed him. It barely moved him, but he stepped back out of her way anyway.
As the crowd cheered and hooted, she spat vile at him. “I’ve been touched by all the pleb men I want to be touched by tonight, Vegeta.”
Low class? He scoffed, slamming the door behind her. The brat was the only one acting low class right now. Why it stung, he didn’t care to fucking know. Trailing behind her, he met Raditz’s line of sight. The man winked as the pair gave their coats to the doorman. The last fucking person he wanted to talk to right now was the annoying fuck. But he was a sight better than the posh, uptight bitch.
As if she heard his thoughts, a hand, fitted with sharp nails, dug into his upper arm. “My name’s Bulma, you fucking prick.” Then he was let loose.
Still, her face was full of wrath. As if she didn’t just call him a fucking commoner. Vegeta returned the look, scowling as she left to head upstairs. The VIP part of the club, and where she would spend the rest of the night, sucking the stupid rich cunts dry.
Good. It was all that little bitch was good for. And it meant she would leave him the fuck alone.
****
The alcohol helped. It definitely helped.
At the start, the night had started fantastic. Bulma had enjoyed herself a lot. Especially being accompanied by a hot, tatted up bodyguard. Though he soon soured it by being a rude asshole. The audacity was extreme for someone working in a fucking lacky position. They were both here to make money, her’s far more lucrative. So why did he think he was better than her?
And why did she care?
Men like him couldn’t dream of dating someone of her status. Perhaps he didn’t care?
No, that couldn’t be it. He practically had a hard dick for the loaned sports car. The man absolutely saw and appreciated luxury when he saw it. Something else was wrong with him.
It could be her? Superior looks, intellect to match, and wit that he couldn’t keep up with. That had to be it. She made him feel inferior. That’s why he had to take her down a peg.
Well. If that was true…
Bulma took the crystal tumbler and threw the remaining gin down her throat.
“Whoa.” It was loud enough to hear over the music. And the slimy old man’s intentions in the form of a hand slipping over her thigh spoke even louder. “There’s no rush, babe.”
A smile came, forced but convincing. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I can handle a lot more than that.” She winked and then stood up.
He all but drooled, hand still reaching out for her. “Wait. Where are you going?” He started laughing. “You can’t say that then leave.”
Oh, she could. And she was going to. There was someone far more annoying she needed to go and seek out.
“Sweetie.” She bent down, making sure to still be as alluring as possible. “I’m just going to the bathroom, and I’ll be back.”
Hardly.
He took the answer, and her sweet smile. “Don’t be too long.”
Then she was free.
Thankfully the stairs were right near the toilets. A momentary distraction for the old fool and she was gone. A new mission was now top priority.
Vegeta needed to completely contextualise his mistake earlier in the evening. If their professional partnership was going to go smoothly. It was good fortune for him that she was very versed in training men. Besides, he needed to apologise.
“Where’s Vegeta?” The question came as Raditz waved goodbye to a bunch of customers, handing them back their items from behind the bar.
He looked her over, and not in a sexy way. Then nodded his head to the hallway that led down to the staff areas. Storerooms, coolrooms, kitchen and offices. “Down there, not sure where though.”
Bulma gave him a smile as thanks and made sure to wiggle her hips as she walked past him and out of view. He might not have been as tempting as some others that worked there. But it was always good to have the men on her side. Give them something to fantasise about.
A systematic search brought her to the kitchen, the cooks long gone, leaving another worker that was a slave to the club.
Vegeta was hunched over a stainless steel bench, the microwave lit up by a warm glow. He hadn’t heard her yet.
Payback incoming.
With a loud scream, her hands squeezed his sides. As she had hoped for, he screamed and twisted with a look of horror.
“You fucking child.” It was a hiss, but he didn’t look annoyed. “How old are you?”
A laugh had already taken over her when she heaved herself up onto the cool countertop. “I’m twenty five.” she knew he didn’t want an answer, but it amused her to give him one. “What are you doing back here?”
The man just grunted, waving his hand toward the microwave. “Heating my food, what’s it look like I’m doing?”
“Bumming around I’d say.” While kicking her legs, she twisted away from him, using the reflective surface to check her makeup.
A little exasperation led his question. “What do you want?”
A fucking apology for a start.
“I’m done.” But it probably wasn’t the time for it. There was something she needed from him, so an argument wouldn’t help out the situation. “And I need a lift.”
“You’re not done.” He scoffed right before the microwave beeped. “You finish at one.”
As she turned back to him, his face was illuminated up by the appliance's inner light bulb. Sharp handsome features were more pronounced and dark eyes were light, giving an aura of danger. Once he shut the door, he finally looked up at her.
Bulma took her opportunity. “I’m tired.” It was quiet, and had a tiny morsel of purring to it. Bait luring him in, perhaps?
Apparently he didn’t fall for it, his eyes just narrowed.
“You’re supposed to finish in an hour.” Hands flailed down towards his piping hot premade meal. “I just warmed up my final meal.”
Bulma’s face scrunched up at the inferred point. “So? Eat it, then we can go.”
His eyes were gone again, concentrating on peeling back the plastic film. “I need to wait an hour after I eat it.”
“For what?”
Fork diving in, he brought the food up to his lips. “Training.” Then he blew air over it, slow and consistent. His tongue flicking inside his mouth after the action.
For some fucked up reason it made her pussy tingle.
“You mean you go to the gym after work?” She was down off the counter now, partly drawn in by the smell of the meal, and the hot man eating it.
He was chewing this time, so she had to wait for the answer. In the meantime she stuck her face right into the container.
“Yes, I like to train before bed.” He nudged her away and turned. “Helps me sleep.”
Gods. This man needed to get off. His balls were obviously so full of his arrogance. A good fuck would loosen him up.
“Oh, Vegeta.” Bulma chuckled preemptively. “There are so many better activities out there to help you sleep.” She sidestepped him, attempting to gain control of his fork.
A sudden hunger came over her. And it might not have just been the food. His arms lifted, attempting to remove themselves from her reach.
She half expected his tone to be coarse, but it had a joyful undertone. “Will you fuck off. Leave me alone.”
He was enjoying this too. The realisation had her heart in a flurry of anticipation.
They danced around the kitchen, soft moans escaping them as they wrestled for the fork. “Just give me a bite.” She laughed. “I’m hungry.”
Just as her hand snagged the container of food, she felt something soft run up her leg. Jumping back and squealing, flicking whatever it was off. Vegeta let out a bellow, taking the opportunity to shovel in more food. Her eyes darted to something whipping around him.
Brown fur, dancing while it moved behind him. “A tail?” It was high pitched, more than she planned for it to be. Then she was grabbing at his hips, attempting to get a better look at it. “You really have one?”
His foot planted on the ground, he bashed into her, removing her off his hip. Then came that sexy laugh. “Of course I do. All Saiyans do.”
“Cool.” Momentarily she was obsessed with the added addition to him. Eventually, when he drifted it within her reach, she held out her fingers. “So cool.” She cooed, as the tip slipped between her fingers. A quiver raced through the tail, electrifying their touch.
Her eyes shot up to his, sure that she had heard him moan. All she was met with was the man stuffing his face with the food.
“Hey!” And then she was back, fighting his arms, hips and now a tail for dominance. “Give me some.”
A grunt came and then his acceptance of defeat. “Just one fucking bite. Spoilt little bitch.”
Her smile stretched her face tight, the pleasure of getting her way was too strong. Food was offered and her mouth instantly filled with spit.
The hand reaching out for the utensil was intercepted, Vegeta pulling it away. “ Uh, uh .” Hoarse but soft, he hummed. The fork returned, his hand controlling it. “Open your mouth.”
One eyebrow furrowed, but she found no words. For once, he had stumped her. Those dark eyes watched and waited. Eager for something. Something intimate, just between them? Again her body was thumping a heartbeat through her pussy. With all her might, Bulma tried not to smile, but it broke through. And he returned it with a smirk.
Right there, she decided she enjoyed making him smile the most.
Bulma parted her lips and tilted her chin, eyes hooded and fixated on showing him how turned on she was. Finally his gaze dropped, fully invested in what her mouth was doing. She snaked out her tongue, letting out soft mews as he brought the food closer.
Then he tantalised something deep inside her. A need she had no idea needed to be dragged to the surface.
“So obedient,” he was close now, almost whispering, “aren’t you, Bulma?” But his voice was booming inside her.
A scorching rush rampaged through her, quivering every muscle she had. She was glad they argued earlier. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten to hear how fucking sexy her name sounded coming from him. Using her tongue she guided the food inside her mouth. With his full attention, she made sure to make good use of her plump lips. Sucking and licking as she tasted the marinated steak and vegetables.
Nothing fancy, but he looked as if she was tasting his life's masterpiece. Or his cock.
His jaw dropped slightly, then shut with a hiss - teeth clenched hard. Burning behind his eyes was a clear fascination. A force wishing to suck her in and devour her.
Just a moment of weakness, shown, then taken away.
Vegeta stepped away from her, shovelling in the rest of the food. Probably to stop more filthy shit from coming out of his mouth. “Go get your fucking coat and we’ll go.”
His tone rang out and communicated more than just the words. That was all she was going to get from him tonight. But at least their little argument was over.