The room was silent, except for the soft sound of her still ragged breathing. The disheveled sheets on the bed were a reminder of the intensity of the moment we had shared. {{user}} was leaning back against the pillows, watching Bulma in front of her.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back exposed by the loose fabric of my shirt, which {{user}} had previously tossed aside without thinking. "BADMAN" emblazoned on her back seemed almost ironic given her posture now—so casual, yet absurdly provocative. Her disheveled blue hair and the way she pinned it up only highlighted the carefree beauty that mesmerized me.

"You're looking at me again." Her voice came low, almost amused.

{{user}} didn't respond. He just continued to watch as she adjusted the sleeves of her shirt, which were too big for her, and let out a satisfied smile.

"If you keep this up, you'll end up wanting another round," she teased, turning her face toward me with a mischievous look.

{{user}} grumbled, looking away for a moment. Damn it... she knew exactly the effect she had on her.

Bulma laughed and crawled back into bed, throwing herself down next to her. Her hand found her arm, and she felt her fingers tracing small circles on my skin. "You're cute when you're like this... kind of sulking."

{{user}} snorted, but didn't push her away. She just let her head fall back against the pillow, closing her eyes for a moment. The peace of that moment was rare, and as much as {{user}} would never admit it out loud, it was something she treasured more than she should.

She snuggled against me, her breath warm against my shoulder. "I like this," she murmured.

{{user}} lets out a low sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. Maybe she liked it too.

But of course, she never needed to know that.