Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A tiny twist in time ❯ An alliance by marriage ( Chapter 16 )

        Zarbon noted the sour look on the older Saiyan’s face, and the unhappy eyes of the smiling king. So, the negotiations did not meet with Kakarot’s mate’s approval. Still, they had come, so apparently Turles was obeying his king. “Please, be seated. There are a few final arrangements to make before we sign the documents.”         Kakarot swallowed hard, and eased into one of the cushioned seats. Golden eyes focused on the damp patch near the neckline of the bodysuit the young Saiyan wore, then slid to the older Saiyan. Cold black eyes met his as Turles plunked himself in the seat next to his king, and wrapped his tail possessively around his mate’s neck. Zarbon felt the younger man’s sudden tenseness, and so switched his attention.         The younger Saiyan sat quite still, his pose regal. Yet, his breathing was just a shade to shallow, a bit too fast, and his eyes…. His eyes gave away his fear. Zarbon dipped his head to kiss Brolli, once again curled in his lap, to hide his disgust. Kakarot feared his mate. A king afraid of his vassal. Perhaps the alliance was not such a good idea, if the king could….         But wait. Saiyan mating customs… what was it about them? It had been so long since Raditz had spoken of them. “Jeice will be joining us shortly –“ Turles’ tail tightened, and Kakarot’s breathing became more labored, though he strove to hide it. Zarbon remembered, and cursed Saiyans for their convoluted matings. “ – and will hopefully remember to bring everything he was supposed to.”         “I remembered.” The shorter man dropped a pile of folders in front of Zarbon. He selected two, and gave them to the mated Saiyans before taking his own seat at the table.         Kakarot didn’t even reach for his, though Turles flipped his open and began scanning the pages. Instead, the king made the slightest gasp, one hand involuntarily rising just a bit from its former death grip on the armrest. Zarbon had little difficulty seeing how his mate’s tail dug into the corded neck, and he began to rethink the decision to marry his pet to the Saiyan. He would not have the younger man raped again.         Brolli nuzzled at his neck, purring that half-stifled little purr he did when he wasn’t sure if he should be making noise, but wanted to soothe him. He pitched his voice to carry only to the ear already so close to his mouth. “Look closely at the mated pair, my pet. It is the older that you are to marry. I find myself… uncertain this is wise.”         “Ain’tcha gonna look over the documents?” Jeice demanded suddenly.         Kakarot reached for the folder, his head dipping almost apologetically. From where Zarbon sat, it didn’t look as if the man read any of the pages, though he held each one for at least one full minute before laying it aside. As he set the last page aside, Turles released his neck. Zarbon examined the king’s neck, alarmed when he realized he could see bruising above the high collar. That would not be happing to his Brolli. He’d already put his pet through too much pain.         “I’ve changed my mind,” he said abruptly. Brolli stopped his stuttering purr, pulling back to look at him. Kakarot barely glanced up, but his mate smirked. Jeice just glared at him.         “You made me type all that shit up for nothing?” the little man demanded angrily. “You know I hate typing!”         “The original plan needs modification, Jeice.” Zarbon tucked Brolli’s head back under his chin. “I believe I would prefer Kakarot marry my Brolli, and I will marry his Turles. We will both still marry you, Jeice.”         Jeice sighed. “That reduces the level of the alliance, though, don’t it, if you and Kakarot don’t get married?”         “No, it’s still three secondary marriages,” Kakarot said quietly, his voice slightly strained. Jeice gave him a sharp look, prompting a smile to form itself on the Saiyan’s lips once more. Zarbon realized it had vanished when Turles’ tail had wrapped around his neck. “There’s really not that much change.”         Jeice looked doubtful, and Zarbon didn’t bother to silence him. “Yeah, but before, Lord Zarbon was marrying you, the king. Now he’s just marrying your mate. That’s lower on the scale. And you’d be marrying his pet… way lower.”         Turles was growling again. Zarbon’s eyes flicked to him, then back to the king. Kakarot was looking at Brolli. The younger Saiyan suddenly looked up at him. “No, Zar… Lord Zarbon is right. His proposal is more suitable for making this alliance work.”         The growling became a low, vibrating snarl before Turles went silent. Zarbon regarded the white-faced Saiyan king thoughtfully. “You do know what you are risking?” he asked quietly.         “The welfare of my people comes before all else,” Kakarot replied. “I cannot allow anything to compromise that.”         “Huh?” Jeice said dumbly. “That don’t sound like any Saiyan I ever heard.”         Kakarot blinked, frowning in confusion. “Didn’t Vegeta’s father put the welfare of his people first?”         Neither Zarbon nor Jeice could stifle their laughter. Kakarot’s shaky smile slipped from his face, an angry scowl soon taking over. “Let me guess. Saiyan pride this, Saiyan pride that, but no honor?”         “Oh, none at all,” Zarbon agreed immediately. “I don’t believe the Saiyans have had any honor for several generations, at least.”         Turles began growling again. “Turles, stop.” The young king’s tone was utterly different. Turles’ growling stopped as he looked over at the younger man’s set face. “I am an honorable man, Zarbon. My people must come first: it is my duty as their king to see to their welfare. That is why I came here, to take Brolli away if I needed to, and to make an alliance if I didn’t. It would be best for the alliance if we make the change you said, so we’ll do it that way.”           Brolli examined the man who was to be his new mate. He was supposed to be a king, but he seemed too weak. He didn’t project the strength and assurance that his master did, plus he reeked of fear, blood, and pain. However, his master had said he was to mate with this Saiyan, so he would. “What do you like?”         “Like?” The man worked his ceremonial armor carefully over his head. Brolli had shed his the instant they’d entered the room where they were to consummate their marriage. “What do you mean?”         “Would you like me to suck you?”         “Oh! Oh. Um, no. Just help me get out of this, will you?” He’d gotten caught somehow, trying to get out of his bodysuit. Brolli giggled, and began stripping his new mate. His giggles stopped when he saw the bruising.         “What happened? Did you do something bad?” Brolli remembered, quite vividly, why he didn’t want to ever do anything bad again. “Did you kill someone?”         “Huh?”         “Zarbon punished me when I killed Frieza. I had lots of bruises.”         “Oh, I see. No, this is… punishment for something else.” Kakarot smiled at him, and Brolli wondered how a smile could be so sad. “Let’s just do this, okay? I don’t want to take any longer than we have to.”         “Oh, alright!” Brolli stripped easily out of his clothes, and crawled up onto the bed. “Come on.”         Kakarot looked at the boy, on his knees with his legs spread, and shook his head. “I… want you to do it, Brolli.”         “Me?!” Brolli flipped over, sitting to stare at the other Saiyan. Kakarot moved slowly to the bed, wincing with almost every step. He crawled stiffly onto the bed, not able to smother a groan of pain. “Turles would have hurt me like this. That’s why Master wanted me to marry you instead.”         “Yes. Please… just do it.”         Father had said that Kakarot was the reason he was insane. Looking at the bloodied, bruised mess positioned for sex, Brolli didn’t understand how his father could be right. Kakarot wasn’t one to hurt anyone, or drive someone insane. Kakarot was nice, like Jeice was nice. He wouldn’t have hurt him, so Brolli decided he wasn’t going to hurt Kakarot.         “Okay. Let me get what we need.” Brolli hurried to the adjoining bath, and found the items he’d hoped for. He filled the small basin with warm water and a soap he knew wouldn’t sting Kakarot’s wounds. A soft cloth joined the water and the soap. Brolli carried the basin back out.         Kakarot wasn’t on his hands and knees anymore. Brolli put the basin on the bedside table, and checked the drawer. There was plenty of the flavored lube his master knew he favored. Good. Once he washed off Turles’ stench and Kakarot’s blood, he’d be able to treat Kakarot the same way his master had him his first time. Carefully, Brolli began washing the Saiyan king.         Kakarot whimpered at his soft touches, moving to his hands and knees once more. Brolli let him stay that way, since it made it easier for him to wash some of the injuries. He pushed the other Saiyan over when he’d finished his back, and started on the wounds on his front. “You’re his mate?” he asked curiously, dabbing at the bleeding mate mark.         “Yes.” Kakarot sighed. Brolli continued with his washing, and as he finished, Kakarot began speaking again. “I found out I was a Saiyan about four or five years ago. I’m not really sure. Time in space is so different than time on a planet. I found out about mating marks and what they meant about a half year after Turles marked me. I didn’t even know we were mates until then. He… he wasn’t real happy when I told him that.”         “He’s never let you mark him back, has he?” Brolli said with sudden enlightenment.         Kakarot turned his head away. “No. Nothing I do is good enough for him.”          Brolli nodded thoughtfully as he slicked his fingers. “Zarbon allowed me that honor, but I didn’t mark him very deeply. Am I to mark you, my king?”         “Ye… ah!” Kakarot jerked as he slid a single finger inside. “Yes, you’re going to mark me.”         “Okay.” Brolli set to the task of preparing his king for penetration. Kakarot slowly relaxed, allowing Brolli to prepare him more easily. The young Saiyan wasn’t happy about the way Kakarot felt. He had been allowed to play with Jeice, preparing his master’s lover, so he knew that the strange, almost rough lines were scars. He wasn’t happy that his careful preparations were making the king bleed, either. He hadn’t yet been allowed to penetrate either of his lovers, and it seemed his first time would not be as special as he had hoped.         “Is this… is this what it’s like for you? With Zarbon?”         “And Jeice,” Brolli agreed.         “It feels… really good.”         Brolli sat back, wiping his fingers clean of blood. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”         “Blood is just lubrication,” Kakarot replied quietly. “Mate with me, Brolli. Mark me as your mate.”         A few quick strokes were all he needed to slick himself and be ready to enter. Brolli licked his lips, wondering whether it would be better to pleasure the other as he’d been, or to just get it over with quickly. Kakarot lay splayed, open and ready, but only half-hard. Brolli met his eyes, and nodded once. “I’m ready.”         “Good.” Kakarot arched against him as he pushed in, sheathing himself as quickly as he could. His teeth connected with the other man’s skin, biting and drawing blood as he purred his pleasure at this new sensation he felt. He pulled back, lapping at the bite that was much deeper than he’d intended. Kakarot’s blood was pure, rich; a strong, heady taste. His purr mutated into an uncertain whine. Something was wrong.         “It’s okay. That’s what I wanted you to do,” Kakarot murmured. He raised one hand, dragging his fingers through Brolli’s hair. “I’m your mate now, like I’m supposed to be.”         Brolli drew back, confused. Kakarot’s words and actions didn’t match his scent. He burrowed into the man neck, inhaling deeply. Kakarot gasped and arched against him. His scent charged with the musk of true arousal. Brolli licked at his neck, smiling as his new lover mewled and bucked once more. He began moving, slowly, drawing out the movements of his hips as he continued to lick and suck his lover’s sensitive neck. Kakarot’s reactions grew more enthusiastic, his scent loosing the oddness that had confused Brolli and becoming purely lust.         Brolli stopped holding back as Kakarot began to move against him, with him. He wrapped his arms around the king, grinding into him; panting and gasping into sweat slicked skin. Kakarot was purring, petting him, encouraging every thrust. Sweat stung Brolli’s eyes as he worked himself to completion. He exploded with a feral growl he would never use with his Master, a growl rewarded with the soft lap of a tongue against his throat, and a deep kiss as he relaxed into Kakarot’s arms.         Kakarot purred under him, lulling his sated body further. As he drifted into sleep, Brolli wondered why he felt so incomplete. But Kakarot’s purr was irresistible, and he slipped into dreams.           He’d been right, Zarbon decided as he threw the attacking Saiyan into the far wall. Turles would have treated his pet no better than those he’d foolishly allowed to punish the young Saiyan. He would not have hesitated to take the boy without any preparation, or to fuck him until he was raw and bleeding. As it was, he’d come to this room with no intention of consummating the agreed-upon alliance marriage, and had attacked Zarbon immediately.         He would teach this one a lesson. Their mating would not be gentle. No, this would be savage, and forced. He would not let this Saiyan mark him as he had allowed Brolli, and he would make sure his mark was set deeply in the Saiyan’s skin. He backhanded a ki-ball back into Turles’ face, following it within moments to pin the beast between himself and the wall. Cloth ripped, the Saiyan’s ass now bare and vulnerable.         Turles snarled and spat, his tail lashing out. The Saiyan was stronger than he looked, and his power seemed to be increasing. Zarbon scowled. That was one thing he had never liked about the monkeys, that uncanny knack they had of constantly increasing their power. Turles was older, a self-professed pirate. His resting level was probably half of his actual power – and the blasted man seemed to be channeling his power into his tail’s hits.         “A pity you didn’t care to do this the easy way,” he purred into the Saiyan’s ear, and grabbed his tail. One sharp twist broke it. “I dislike bruises.”         “Asshole!” Turles growled. His power spiked again, enabling him to push slightly away from the wall. Zarbon shoved him back against it, then slammed his head into it twice for good measure. It stunned the Saiyan long enough to Zarbon to get free of his pants, but he’d have to have the dent fixed later.         He entered the other quite brutally, pleased with the pained yip that escaped through the otherwise apparently unceasing snarling. Turles squirmed and twisted, trying to escape, but Zarbon merely smacked him into the wall again. To his annoyance, the dent deepened, though the Saiyan did sag again. He tore the top of his shirt away. Turles had no mating mark, at all.         Zarbon shifted forms, and accepted the power that Brolli always sent him. His teeth sank deeply into Turles’ shoulder, savaging the muscle. There would be no tank for this Saiyan when he was done: the mark, one of an enslaved concubine mating, would remain to forever remind him that he was Zarbon’s.         He shook his head slightly before releasing the bite, and used his augmented strength to easily shove his newest pet to the floor. Turles tried crawling away, but Zarbon caught him easily. The growling ceased with his next entrance, gasps of pain taking their place and becoming whimpers as he ruthlessly took his pleasure. When Turles stopped fighting, he withdrew and changed forms once again. He turned the Saiyan, pinning his arms over his head with one hand, latching his other hand around the idiot’s throat to ensure that he did not try to bite him.         This time, he entered slowly, smirking down as Turles as he rocked gently in and out. “You’re a foolish Saiyan. Did you truly believe that I would accept you as anything but an enslaved mate after I realized your true relationship with your king? Especially after you attacked me?”         “What would you know of it?” Turles rasped. “You’re no Saiyan!”         Zarbon bent his head, bringing about a hiss of pain as he cruelly bit into a pebbled nipple. “You are hardly the first Saiyan I’ve taken as a mate,” he replied casually, licking blood from his lip. “I am aware of quite a bit of Saiyan culture, but my first mate made sure I knew everything there was to know about the mating customs. It wasn’t information I needed to remember until now.” He smirked. “You belong to me, slave.”         He saw the awareness in the other’s eyes. Turles would be the most difficult of his mates, and yet, the easiest to punish. It was only the thought of what this one could do to his king before Zarbon had a chance to take him in their marriage bed that made the deceptively fragile man pleasure his least favored concubine for the rest of their time together.         To his amusement, Turles was pathetically easy to pleasure.           Jeice sighed. Of course his marriage just had to be the last one. “And why me?” he demanded of the air. “What’d I ever do to have to be in a mess like this? Zarbon’s got more bloody lovers than he has hair, so why me?”         He knew, though. Knew it was because Zarbon knew he had ordered Brolli to kill Frieza. Knew it was also because next to the young Saiyan, he was by far Zarbon’s preferred bed partner. He didn’t mind that, or the fact that he was going to get to bed a rather fine looking piece of Saiyan ass. It was the marriage thing. The permanency of the marriage thing. The whole he wasn’t going to be single anymore, or having his own room where he could take anyone he took a fancy to. He really didn’t like the idea of giving up his bachelor’s quarters for a room in the harem quarters.         Then again, the bed was bigger, and a lot more comfortable than his. Hell, the whole room was more hedonistic than his, and he’d put some work into appeasing his hedonistic side. There were a few perks to this whole fiasco. However, having to wait two entire cycles for sex was not one of them. “That just ain’t fair,” he groused, and flopped back onto the sinful luxury of the bed.         A muffled thump against the door brought him to his feet. Curiosity prompted him to open the door, and one of his two future husbands slumped into the room. “Fuck.”         “Not now, please,” the Saiyan whispered. “Let me rest a little longer.”         “Not what I meant. You look like hell.”         His comment earned a half-smile as the man sank into the cushions of one of the loveseats. “Awk! You could have warned me it would eat me!” The Saiyan thrashed a bit, finally achieving a comfortable position. “You are with the… Ginfu Force?”         “Ginyu. Captain Ginyu’s elite squad.” Jeice struck one of his poses.         “You look silly like that,” Kakarot informed him. “Do you mind if I stay here until it’s time?”         “Sure, do what you want.” Jeice took a few more minutes to observe the other, and decided that he might as well be hospitable. “You want a drink? Something to eat?”         “No. I’m not really hungry.”         “Then you’re sick,” Jeice groaned.         “No, I’m just not hungry,” Kakarot protested.         “A Saiyan is always hungry.”         “Most of them, maybe, but… I’m not.”         Jeice regarded him speculatively. Kakarot had none of the brash pride and bravado that Vegeta had always displayed. He didn’t have the brutishness of Nappa, or the raw sexuality of Raditz. In fact, he didn’t even resemble the somewhat predatory creature he’d become during the negotiations. Instead, he gave off an air of quiet desperation and unhappiness. “Want a blanket then?”         The Saiyan flinched. “No. I’m fine, really. It’s just… well… we’re gonna have sex pretty soon and I… kinda wanted to know more about you?”         Flummoxed, Jeice perched himself in one of the chairs. “You mean, what I like in bed? I’m up for pretty much everything: top, bottom, going down or…. Are you blushing? You are!”         Kakarot lifted a hand, hiding his flaming face. “I’m… uh, not real used to… that kinda stuff. I meant, about you. What are you? I’ve never seen anyone with red skin like yours before. Or blue like Zarbon, either.”         “Yeah, well, Zarbon’s an alien and I’m a mutant.” Jeice shrugged. “You’re a Saiyan.”         Kakarot frowned. “Um, but aren’t we all aliens? And a mutant what?”         Jeice blinked. That was a question he’d never been asked. He was just a mutant. He’d been told so all his life. Zarbon had always been an alien, some said an alien prince, but no one said prince of what. “I… don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I’m just… no one ever said, you know?”         “Oh.” Kakarot scrunched down into the couch a little more. “This’s comfy. Are all the rooms like this?”         “This is one of the harem rooms. Isn’t yours like this?”         “Turles and I have been staying in his room on his ship.”         His room? His ship? Wasn’t this Saiyan the king? But then, Saiyan matings were weird. Jeice had read the information Zarbon had given him in preparation for this marriage. He would, after all, be mating with this Saiyan. Casually, Jeice gathered up the folder, and flipped it open. Somewhere in here… “Hey, you don’t mind if I work while we talk?”         “No, go ahead.” The Saiyan yawned, and snuggled deeper into the couch.         Jeice smirked. “You sure you don’t want a blanket? You look a little cold.”         Kakarot gave him a hesitant smile. “I guess I am a little. Do I really look that bad? I don’t know what hell looks like, but it didn’t sound good.”         Jeice muffled his laughter in the blanket he’d picked up. “You look like you’ve been through a round or two of intensive training, and only set the regeneration tank at half-capacity.” He moved closer, tucking the blanket around the Saiyan. “Come to think of it, you kinda smell like you’ve been in a tank.”         Kakarot flushed. “I guess I didn’t wash all the smell off, huh?”         “It clings. Raditz used to bitch all the time because he couldn’t get the stink out of his hair.”         “You knew Raditz?”         “‘Course I did,” Jeice snorted. “He was a good fuck.”         “Oh,” Kakarot said in a very small voice, and hid under his blanket. Jeice snickered, and turned to the file. Somewhere in it was the clue he needed to figure out what the hell was up with this strange king.         “So, we’re gonna be mates, huh?” he said after several minutes.         “Yes,” muffled by the blanket still over the Saiyan’s head.         “What kind?”         “Huh?” A single eye was revealed. “What do you mean?”         “Well, you’re a king, so obviously not equal.” Jeice tapped the pages. “Zarbon didn’t specify what kind of mating you’d be doing, right? So, what kind are we gonna have?”         “What’s that?”         “This? It’s… um… paperwork!”         “Oh.” Obviously, the Saiyan didn’t believe him, but wasn’t going to press. “Well, I may be a king, but we’re basically doing this because our race has been pretty much obliterated. So, I suppose it will be a mating that will reflect that we need Zarbon’s…” a frown, and the blanket slipped to show Kakarot was chewing on his lip, “protection, I guess.”         “That’s with Zarbon,” Jeice dismissed. “I wanna know about me.”         “You?” Kakarot looked puzzled. “It’s the same thing, isn’t it? You’ll be Zarbon’s husband, and my mate.”         “You’re the weirdest Saiyan I’ve ever met,” Jeice decided. “Where are you biting me, I mean?”         “Oh, I’m not.” Kakarot barely got the words out before he yawned hugely, and to all appearances, promptly fell asleep.         Jeice stared at him for some time, but the Saiyan didn’t react at all. His breathing remained steady, and deep. Finally, Jeice set the pages aside, and went closer. Lines of fatigue became clear, as well as small signs of injuries that the tank hadn’t completely healed. How hard had the man trained, and how weak had he set the tank, to look so hellish? Then again, when was the last time the Saiyan had slept well? Saiyans, as a rule, didn’t just fall asleep and stay that way when someone was so close to them, unless it was a mate. And Jeice wasn’t Kakarot’s mate yet.         The door swished open. “Hey, Zarbon.”         “Jeice. What…. Ah, I see.” Zarbon looked down at the sleeping Saiyan. “Let him sleep.”         “Sure.” Jeice seated himself in Zarbon’s lap as soon as the taller man was comfortably ensconced in a chair. “He’s… odd.”         “He was unaware of his Saiyan heritage until Raditz found him,” Zarbon said quietly. “Did I not include the transcripts?”         “Nope.”         “Ah. He was raised as one of the people he was sent to destroy, after a head injury stole his memories.”         “Huh.”         “They were pacifists.”         “Pacifists?” Jeice repeated, stunned. He threw another look at the sleeping Saiyan, then dissolved into giggles. “A pacifist Saiyan?” he gasped. “Oh, that’s….”         “Exactly. Turles was less than pleased. He has been trying to bring out his mate’s more Saiyan side, in the usual manner.”         Jeice’s giggles died abruptly. “I see.” And he did, having seen Raditz more than once when the weakest Saiyan had returned from training to become a better Saiyan with the others.         “I intend to bond him.”         “Really?” Jeice snuggled into Zarbon’s embrace. “Can you bond with two Saiyans at once?”         “I see no reason why I could not.”         Jeice kissed his neck. “Think we ought to wake him up?”         “No.”           Kakarot woke up slowly, comfortable and drowsy and not really aware of his surroundings. Soft sounds he vaguely recognized finally caught his attention, and he turned sleep-blurred eyes in the general direction of the noise. Jeice knelt between Zarbon’s bare thighs, and he admired the pretty picture they made for several minutes before he realized what he was seeing. Zarbon looked over at his yelp, and laughed softly. “Come, Kakarot. Join us.”         Kakarot slid out from under the blanket and shed his clothes on the short walk to the loveseat Zarbon sprawled in. He hesitated only a moment before leaning in to give the older man a kiss. Zarbon reached up lazily, holding him in place as his other hand trailed down the defined chest and brushed over his stomach. Kakarot jerked back. “Sorry,” the young man muttered, “I’m ticklish.”         Jeice shifted as Zarbon pulled the young Saiyan down to sit by him. Zarbon went back to his lazy exploration of the youth’s body, and Jeice soon joined him, forgoing bringing his lover off to explore their newest partner. Kakarot shivered beneath the combined assault, his returning caresses awkward and fumbling. Turles, then Brolli, were the only male lovers he had ever known. He wasn’t sure what to do with two, and soon simply surrendered to feeling what they did, and touching what he could reach.         It felt good, better than with Brolli. Overwhelming pleasure, even when they entered him. He felt their bites, their claims. Felt something different, when Zarbon had licked the last of the flowing blood from his bite, and cradled him close. He felt… safe? Safe, and content, and so tired. It wasn’t long before he was asleep once again.         “Hey, Zarbon?” Jeice traced the outline of the mark he’d put on Kakarot. “Wasn’t he supposed to bite us?”         “He should have, yes.” His hand touched the spot where he had felt the Saiyan’s teeth for a moment, finding unbroken skin. The king’s sharp teeth hadn’t even left a scratch behind. It was very unusual, especially since he could feel their bond. He had been rather certain that both parties were required to make a claim mark in order to properly bond. This new Saiyan, however, was an anomaly in every sense.         “We’ve got maybe three cycles.” Jeice leaned over Kakarot to kiss him. “You think these three can beat him?”         “I believe Brolli could do it on his own,” Zarbon replied serious, and pulled Jeice back for another kiss. The smaller man slithered over the Saiyan, ready for more. But then, Jeice was always ready for more. Chuckling, Zarbon proceeded to indulge him.