Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Chizzari-Raditz ❯ Relief ( Chapter 4 )

I have no idea where I am when I wake up this time. But for the first time in six months, I wake up without pain. That occupies my mind for awhile as I puzzle over it. Something moves, and I realize suddenly that I'm not alone in the bed. A small form is pressed tightly against my own, and it takes me a moment longer to realize just how intimately close. I am rocking gently into that body, stroking the cock my hand is resting on, before my brain wakes up and I realize who it is in bed with me. I freeze.

"Do not stop," a sleepy voice murmurs. "Feels good, Raditz. Do not stop."

I nearly choke, but resume. He did this to me once before. I love him now as I did then, until he pulls away and rolls to face me. I can't help but think of him as a child. A precocious one, but a child, not a teen. He is so tiny! He's ten years younger than I am, but he's so small that I could be taken for his father, were he not the prince.

"Oh, do not look at me like that!" he complains. "I hate that look."

"What look?"

"The one that reminds me how horribly undergrown I am. I did grow three inches," he adds irritably.

I can't help it, I laugh. He smiles, and sucks on my finger. I catch my breath, suddenly uncertain. What does he want from me? I am his toy to play with… his whore. I feel myself begin shaking as I watch him, and wrap my tail around my waist as I fight the trembling.

"I beat that fool Nappa," he tells me, the words muttered around the finger he still has in his mouth. "I didn't take you with me because Frieza's elites have taken an interest in you. I thought you'd be safer here."

I know I go pale. Frieza's elites? I have no doubt what kind of an interest he means, I caught the looks a few of those guys threw my way on my last mission. I'm strong, but I'm only a third-class by Saiyan standards. That's fresh meat by theirs. "Oh, hell."

He smiles again, nipping my finger as his tail wraps around my cock. He doesn't do anything more. Just lays there with his eyes closed, tail wrapped around my cock and sucking my finger in his mouth. I decide then and there the prince is strange. He does finally move, curling up against my stomach and pulling my hair over himself like a blanket. After a moment, I realize he is asleep.

I do not know what to do now. Nappa's "training" has never covered what to do once the prince has finished with me. Although, since I appear to be a living blanket, perhaps I had better just stay put. Yet, I want nothing more than to get up and run. As fast and as far as I can go. Take one of the pods, and vanish into the depths of space.

But I won't. My prince needs me. There has to be some reason that he chose to allow himself to be used. That is totally out of character for him. Has he been hurt? Was… was he used, on the ship? Raped, like I was? Does he use me to wash another from his thoughts?

His tail twitches, coils firmly around my thigh. It barely fits, my thigh being somewhat thicker than his waist. I find that amusing, for some reason, and silent laughter shakes me. Seventeen… no, eighteen now. His birthday was while he was gone. Eighteen, then, and barely tall enough to be at eye-level with my waist, slimmer than many women, but muscled as a man. The body and voice of a child, the mind and desires of an adult, with all the temperament of a moody, royally-raised teen. Arrogant to a fault, my prince.

My free hand drops to slide through his hair, and he snuggles closer to me. I cannot help but wonder what he will be like in another ten years. He will have been with Frieza for five years then, without ever once having been allowed more than shore leave. Will he still be as loving? I can't help but believe he won't. Not after five years under Frieza. And five before then of serving almost half a year every year under the lizard.

My hand slips to run over his shoulder and along his arm. Will he still look so heartbreakingly innocent in his sleep? I've seen my prince fight, I have been on missions with him. He's cold, cruel, and horribly efficient. Only twice have I ever seen him look other than arrogantly self-assured. Once, on the dais when I cried for him, and now, as he sleeps.

I study the softened features. No, I can see the signs already. He will not seem innocent when he sleeps, not after ten more years of profitable murder and destruction. The softness I can see now will have left him, as it once left me. I close my eyes, my jaw clenching. If that softness had not left me years ago, it would have left over the last six months.

I banish the thoughts of these months from my mind. The prince is back. And, it seems, he had meant what he said. That I was not to be used by anyone I didn't want to be used by! Much relieved by this, I fall back to sleep.