Chapter 26: Bulma's Fall (Patreon)

Oryon squeezed out some body wash, worked it into a lather between his palms, and began carefully washing Bulma with it.

The ticklish sensation made Bulma bite down on Oryon's shoulder.

"Why aren't you using a loofah? This is way too ticklish..."

By now Oryon had finished the job, and Bulma was covered head to toe in foam.

Bulma bit her lip. "Thanks for washing me. Want me to do you now?"

"No need. I've got a better idea."

Bulma blinked. "What?"

The next moment, Oryon pulled her tight against him, and the two of them slid against each other, locked in an embrace.

The thick lather transferred all over Oryon's body.

A flush of pleasure spread across Bulma's face.

A little shy, she asked, "That feels so nice! Is it like this with Lunch too?"

"Not quite. With Lunch, all I have to do is stand still, and she lathers me up herself — she even rinses me off..."

Bulma blinked in surprise, then nodded.

"Lunch really is a good woman. She's so good at taking care of people..."

In a blink, the water rinsed the suds from their bodies, and Oryon toweled her dry.

Feeling his breath against her, Bulma's heart pounded wildly, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.

Oryon carried her toward the bedroom, looking down at her bashful face. "Ready this time?"

Bulma buried her face against his chest and said sweetly, "Mm. Whatever I yell, don't stop — whoever stops first is a puppy..."

Oryon smiled faintly, kicking the door shut behind them once they were inside.

Then he closed the window and drew the sheer curtains.

Sunlight filtered through the gauzy fabric, and the atmosphere turned instantly more charged.

Bulma lay back on the bed, her body sinking into the soft mattress.

Oryon braced his arms beside her head, leaning over to look down at her.

Their faces were mere inches apart. Bulma could smell the shampoo on his hair, along with a faint, pleasant scent beneath it.

Maybe that was the smell of hormones.

Just looking at him made her heart race again, her chest rising and falling.

She reached up on her own and wrapped her arms around his back.

Oryon kissed her forehead gently, then cupped her face and pressed a deep kiss to her lips.

Outside the window, the sea seemed to sense something — the waves churned and rolled, the wind carrying the moan of the tide as if to swallow the pale stretch of sand whole.

Bulma felt like a drought-stricken plant that had finally met its first spring rain.

A soft moan slipped from her lips.

Once, not so long ago, she had been a sixteen-year-old girl.

She'd first learned about love from television, and from that moment on she'd been swept away by it, yearning for it endlessly.

Then, by pure chance, she'd discovered the Dragon Balls, and from that came the outlandish idea of finding Shenron to make a wish.

Along the way, it was only thanks to running into that foolish boy Goku that she'd managed to travel so far.

Looking back on it now, she doubted she'd have the courage to do it again.

Worst of all, more than ten years had passed, and she still hadn't gotten her wish.

Now she'd finally gotten it — the feeling was something Bulma herself couldn't put into words.

Was it her wish being fulfilled?

It didn't quite feel like that, either.

She felt like all those years of loneliness, all the regret over what she'd missed, were finally pouring out of her, leaving her awash in emotion.

Oryon's love was gentle, tender, protective.

Bulma felt like a small boat that had been tossed by storms for far too long, finally coming to shore.

She cupped his handsome face in her hands, ran her fingers over his sharply defined abs, and for a moment fear crept in.

Afraid this was all just a dream, that she'd wake up to find none of it real, that she'd still be that same lonely woman.

Thankfully, Oryon didn't vanish — he even carefully wiped the sweat from her face.

Time passed slowly, and Bulma began to feel a little worn out.

She remembered something Lunch had told her: he's a Saiyan, after all — his stamina is just too much.

"I can't handle him alone, honestly."

No wonder Lunch had been so generous about sharing.

An absurd thought crossed Bulma's mind.

Am I going to die in this bed?

But just before they'd come in from the bathroom, she'd stubbornly declared that whoever called a stop was a puppy.

Was she really going to call it now?

Her brow furrowed slightly. He wouldn't actually make her bark like a dog, would he?

"Ugh..."

Bulma suddenly let out a muffled grunt, as if she'd knocked into something, and sucked in a sharp breath.

Oryon quickly eased off, gently stroking her cheek.

"Sorry — am I too heavy?"

Bulma's furrowed brow smoothed out at once, and she shook her head.

"No!"

She opened her eyes and looked at him, a shy, happy glow spreading across her face.

Bulma bit her lip and said, a little apologetically, "Sorry I couldn't satisfy you fully."

"It's fine, you did your best!" Oryon said, wiping the sweat from her hair.

Bulma hesitated for a moment, then quickly said, "But I think I can still satisfy you a different way..."

Oryon blinked, caught off guard.

"A different way?"

Bulma pressed her lips together. "Lie down and let me take over..."

"Okay!"

Oryon rolled over and lay down, and Bulma rose up over him and kissed him.

Before she'd had her fill, Bulma pulled her lips away from his.

Then she began kissing his Adam's apple, his chest, his abs.

Watching Bulma work so diligently, a little clumsy at it, Oryon felt a strange smile tug at his lips.

This was probably her first time, while he'd already grown practiced with Lunch — no wonder Bulma couldn't keep it up for long.

Though this was her first time, her father did own quite a few of those magazines — Bulma had grown up absorbing that stuff by osmosis, so she'd probably picked up plenty.

A shame she'd just never had the chance to put it into practice.

That spineless coward Yamcha never dared to go all the way without a wedding ring first — everyone in this world was way too uptight.

Oryon brushed Bulma's hair back gently and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

She glanced at him and gave a knowing smile.

"So? I'm not any worse than Lunch, am I?"

Oryon stroked her ponytail and chuckled softly. "Bulma, you're so beautiful..."

Bulma said, bashful, "You've said that eight hundred times already. But I'll never get tired of hearing it..."

Oryon cupped her cheek and kissed her deeply.

Her body trembled again.

Time passed slowly, and happiness enveloped Bulma completely.

She could feel every cell in her body cheering, rejoicing in this long-overdue rain after the drought.

She didn't know how much time had passed before she grew tired.

She nestled into his arms, her delicate hand still idly toying with his tail.

[Ding! You've had a passionate encounter with Bulma, mind and body pleasured — you've gained 400 days of cultivation progress.]

In an instant, every muscle in Oryon's body ached — this time, the sensation lasted noticeably longer.

But he could feel a boundless surge of power flooding into every limb and bone through his bloodstream.

Four hundred days — the strength gain this time was a genuine leap forward for him.

As he looked down at the sweet, delicate Bulma in his arms, boundless gratitude welled up in him.

If not for Lunch, he'd have missed out on a good woman like Bulma.

Bulma's eyelashes fluttered faintly, her breathing slow and even.

She was worn out. Oryon patted her back gently, letting her drift off to sleep in his arms.

Some time later, a wave of exhaustion washed over Oryon too, his eyelids growing heavy and impossible to keep open.

Moments later, the two of them drifted off together into a peaceful, blissful sleep, still wrapped in each other's arms.