Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dominion ❯ Chapter 8

Dominion

Author: Xero Sky

Date: July/August/September 2002

Pairings: Vejiita X Bardock, Vejiita X Kakkarot, for now.

Warnings: Lemon, lime, language, violence, and ANGST. Maybe all at once! AU, therefore

some OOC is probably inevitable.

Notes: *....* indicates italics. /..../ indicates telepathic speech

Disclaimer: All characters are property of their respective copyright owners. I intend no profit from this work of fiction.

Chapter 8

"Harder!!"

Kakkarot snarled at her.

"Damn you! I barely felt that!! Harder!"

With a heave, Kakkarot threw himself up into the air and feinted right, then lunged left with a whirling kick, his booted foot blurring toward Tsuriya's head. A second before he hit, she grabbed his leg with both hands and spun, using his momentum to help her throw him. Dust and rubble exploded from the battered concrete wall of the arena as he smashed into it.

"Nice!" she said, pulling him loose. "You're strong and experienced, but we're going to have to work on your speed."

He glowered at her. "Don't fucking patronize me."

She snorted. "Boy, you may be a badass on the outer rim, but this is the Royal Guard. When you're strong enough to stop me, then you can have an attitude."

He launched himself at her again, but he felt the sudden nearby ki, and he froze in midair.

Vejiita.

The king habitually suppressed his ki, both for security reasons and to keep his staff on edge. The sudden spike of ki outside the Guards arena before he entered was a courtesy he extended to those who were dedicated to him.

"Come at me, or defend yourself!" Tsuriya hissed at him. Around the sunlit arena, the double handful of training Guards were beginning to notice his reaction. Accustomed to Vejiita's presence, none of them had stopped. Some of the curiosity came from the facts of who he was, and why he wore a Guard uniform now. Some of it was simply from the fact that something out of the ordinary had happened, and that was rarely a good thing.

Kakkarot shook his head slightly, disgusted with himself. So it was Vejiita. It wasn't like he was going to be able to avoid the man forever. Especially not now that he'd been forced into the Guard. Time to be an adult and forget.

Forget that his father was still in a regen tank.

Forget the scars on his back. Forget that *mockery* of a claim scar on his shoulder.

Forget the sounds of his tail bones snapping. He heard that familiar voice again in his head. *These are the rules, boy . . .* Yes, by all means, forget *that*.

It had only been rut. Nothing more. Madness. He had to force this out of his head, had to focus, or everything he wasn't supposed to feel was going to overwhelm him. He wanted Vejiita. Wanted him bleeding under his fingers. Wanted bones failing under his fists. Wanted soft skin under his tongue. Wanted.

Rage, loss, fear, betrayal, sorrow . . . His emotions seemed to fountain upwards, lifting him free of himself. He felt his body. He saw his target. A kind of vacant calm filled him.

When Tsuriya attacked him, he defended easily, blocking her. Parrying a vicious kick, he drove his fists into her ribs, hearing something snap. He wasn't distracted. He was focused. He was just entirely there, all of his attention on the motions of his body, on the violence and pain he was going to deal out.

Tsuriya grinned at him. The broken rib didn't seem to concern her much. Kakkarot showed her his teeth and did his best to close with her, but she was faster than he was, and he caught a face full of ki blast right before she rattled his teeth with a boot to his head. Blinded for a second, he fell toward the arena floor before recovering. The ki blast he sent at her scorched the wall near her head, although, by the time it hit, she was already driving her foot into his breastplate thirty feet away.

Laughter.

Vejiita's laughter seemed to fill the arena. Kakkarot stopped his skid through the air just as his back armor tapped against the wall. Eyes narrowed, he stared at his king, his heart thudding in his chest. Vejiita was right there, and it was easy enough to see why he was laughing. It had every thing to do with the sudden ferocity of the fight and normal saiyajin bloodlust. Kakkarot knew that. It didn't stop him from flushing with shame and anger and a hundred things he couldn't name.

He bowed as Vejiita approached, and shoved all his emotions down hard, meeting those eyes steadily.

"So, Tsuriya, does he improve?"

"He does, ou-sama. When he forgets that he needs to."

Their voices were full of easy familiarity, and Kakkarot had to push down resentment for a moment. But why should he care?

"Kakkarot," Vejiita said. "I bring you word of your father. The physicians will release him this afternoon."

"The seizures have stopped?" Kakkarot asked, his voice colorless and polite. The image of his father's bleeding body chained to Vejiita's bed flared up behind his eyes.

"Hai, since yesterday. You should be there when he emerges."

It was permission; whether Vejiita knew it or not, Kakkarot had duty this afternoon. He knew his manners.

"Thank you, ou-sama," he said, bowing again.

Fathomless eyes watched him. Kakkarot met them, remembering teenage fantasies and carnal realities. It had only been the rut. Surely, there was no need for such strong feelings? He didn't feel the fur on his tail stand as he recalled brutal hands on it. Images sharp and clear, and images faded with time fluttered through his mind. He thought for a moment that he might vomit.

Vejiita saw. Vejiita saw everything. That trademark smirk distorted his mouth. For a moment Kakkarot was certain that he would laugh at him, at the third-class trash who kept getting used and used up by those stronger than him. But all Vejiita did was nod, and say, "Until I see you again, then."

Tsuriya bowed. Kakkarot bowed again. And then Vejiita was gone. He'd come all that way just to tell Kakkarot that Bardock had recovered. The younger man felt the eyes of the other Guards on him. On the royal fucktoy, who got personal visits from royalty in the middle of the damned day. For whom the king acted like some damned clerk.

*Until I see you again*. Did the asshole think Kakkarot would ever let him touch him again?

Like he had had a choice last time. If Vejiita wanted him, he could have him. At any time. Putting him in the Guards had been an excuse, then. All that bullshit about safety and security and concern about Radditz had just been bullshit. He was in the Guards now because it was a convenience to have him so close, assigned to serve him.

Rage exploded, tempered only by the continuing sickness of his heart. Kakkarot growled at Tsuriya, hating her because she was close, because she was one of Vejiita's own, because she watched Vejiita leave the arena with a sort of absent, lingering fascination that told Kakkarot more than he wanted about her. That growl was the only warning she got.

The fight that followed was not the most spectacular that the arena had even seen. It had, however, a vicious tone to it that training usually lacked, and before long there were a dozen or so spectators gathered loosely around. The Guards dodged ki blasts and flying debris, watching as Kakkarot went after Tsuriya with everything he had.

To his credit, she was pushed hard by his attacks, working a great deal harder than she had expected to. However, *she* got up early every other morning to spar with the universe's only ascended saiyajin, and she would be damned before this wild-ass pretty-boy got the best of her. Lust ran through Tsuriya's body, but it had nothing to do with sex. She was going to teach this brat a lesson.

He came at her, passion putting his instincts entirely in charge. His strength and speed got his fist through her defenses, and she felt her cheekbone give way as his fist impacted with it. Howling, she felt her control slip.

Kakkarot got a glimpse of eyes gone far more feral than he had ever seen outside of oozaru, and then his arm was pulled out of its socket as he was grabbed and hurled downward. The impact drove him six inches into the concrete floor.

He looked up at her, seeing the blood from her torn face stain her bared teeth crimson, watching with fascination as she struggled to get herself under control, and suddenly he couldn't stop laughing.

*****************

"Wake up and I'll give you a cookie."

Radditz sighed and opened his eyes, uselessly. "Are you completely fucking insane, or just bored out of your mind?"

"What saiyajin doesn't respond to promises of food?"

Radditz's stomach growled loudly at that point, proving to him once again that all the gods of Vegetasei were against him. He awaited the jeering commentary from his `host'.

Instead, there was the sound of footsteps, and then the faint smell of food. Hands reached out for his, and he was guided over to the table, just like always, just like five times a day, every day, for however long he'd been here. Food that was probably loaded with whatever was fucking with his senses was in front of him, and he was a saiyajin, a wounded saiyajin, and he went ahead and ate it. Hopelessness had begun to set in.

He had not been successful at all in grappling with his captor. With the loss of his tail and the addition of whatever shit drugs he was being fed, he was so off balance that he couldn't walk without assistance. Despite the pain from his slowly regenerating tail, he'd refused to take any more painkillers; combined with his other problems, they made him sick.

Almost worse than all of these things, certainly worse than the constant painful itching in his tail, was the fact that he couldn't seem to use his ki. Oh, he could still sense it, but he couldn't seem to raise it at all. And he couldn't sense any ki *other* than his own. Whoever his captor was, he didn't seem to have any ki at all, which pretty much made him dead, as far Radditz knew. Of course, it must be the drugs and the injury that were screwing up his ki-sense, but the thought that the only other person around was already dead had given Radditz at least one nightmare.

The fact that it mattered to him even slightly whether his captor was alive or dead or a fucking machine was disturbing, even though he knew where it came from. Isolation. He couldn't feel anyone else in his head anymore. All his connections were cut. His crew was silent, and though that was only a convenience-bond, the type any commander would have with his staff, the lack of their noisy chatter lowered his spirits. Far worse, though, was the fact that he couldn't feel Kakkarot anymore.

His little brother meant more to Radditz than anyone else, even their father. He did love Bardock, but Kakkarot, Kakkarot was special. Kakkarot was his. Radditz clearly remembered his rage and sorrow when the baby he'd barely known had been sealed up and sent off to clear a planet no one cared about. It was just like he'd been thrown away, like that perfect little being was so much trash.

Bardock had earned Radditz's eternal gratitude and respect when he had personally gone to get his youngest son back. The feisty, feral toddler had bitten Radditz immediately, but by that first nightfall the two of them were curled up on Radditz's bed, fast asleep, their tails so firmly hooked together that Bardock had been forced to leave them there. They had slept like that for years after, until Radditz had gone in the army and Kakkarot, unwilling to be left behind, had lied about his age to follow him.

They had always been together. Radditz watched over his little brother with everything he had. The only time he had failed, he had failed badly, but he'd taken revenge for them both. The sobbing, bleeding, broken-tailed boy he'd found outside in the mud, thrown away *again*, had broken his heart. Kakkarot had watched him disembowel the bastards, had watched as Radditz caught every one of them and broke them to drive the fear from his little brother's heart. He would do anything for Kakkarot.

The fact that he couldn't feel him at all was the prime evidence behind a theory that was slowly growing on Radditz. He'd begun, halfway seriously, to think that maybe he was in Hell.

"You should finish that," his captor said. Radditz blinked for a second, then realized he was talking about the half-eaten piece of fruit in his hand.

"Gotta make sure I get my full dose, huh?" Radditz asked tiredly, not expecting any answer. He was still hungry. He gulped the rest of it down.

"No," the answer came. "I stopped drugging you yesterday."

"What? Why?" Radditz couldn't help noticing that he sounded somewhat indignant, as if any lessening of the care taken to render him harmless was an insult.

"You should be back to normal in a few days," the voice said complacently. "But don't expect much from your ki for a while."

"Why not?"

"This whole room dampens your ki. Icejin tech. Unpretty, but workable."

Radditz felt sick. The whole concept of ki suppression was unnatural, disgusting. And, icejin tech?

"Who are you?" he asked, damning his sight- and scent-blindness. He would have known in an instant who and what this fucking thing was if only . . . But that was the point, now wasn't it?

"You'll know in a couple of days, pretty boy. Now eat up. We've got a busy life in front of us."

"Where are we going?" He heard the bastard get up and move toward the door.

"Home again, home again," the voice said mockingly. "To hear the latest news. To see if Kakkarot's tail heals straight again this time."

"What?!" Radditz shouted, but there was no answer other than the door sliding shut behind his captor. His heard pounding sickeningly, Radditz stared into nothingness, horrified.

And totally enraged. If it was true, if anything this fucker said was true and not just some disgusting fiction designed to get him upset, Radditz had an oath to keep. He'd sworn, his hands covered with Kakkarot's blood, staring into eyes huge and empty from pain and fright, that no one would hurt his little brother again and live.

Radditz always kept his promises.

******************

Vejiita stood on the balcony outside his apartments and leaned against the railing. It was dusk already, and he was waiting for the lights in the apartments just across the courtyard from his own to go on. That would mean that Bardock was home again. He had a very strong urge to talk to his old friend, but he'd kept away, knowing that Bardock had needed time with his son. It would not help them, having him there.

He scowled. It also probably hadn't helped much that Kakkarot had come out of a tank at the same time as his father. Tsuriya had acted like an empty-headed fleabag and slammed the brat into the floor hard enough to dislocate his shoulder and fracture his pelvis. Damn that woman's lack of control! The facts that it, and she, had served Vejiita well over the years were the only reasons Vejiita hadn't put *her* in a tank for that stunt.

Kakkarot was obviously uncomfortable being in the Royal Guard, and the gods only knew if he really believed the reason he was there. Vejiita wanted him *safe*, without simply making him a concubine or a prisoner. By most standards, it was an honor to be a Guard. Kakkarot probably thought it humiliating.

Vejiita sighed. Kakkarot.... The whole thing was so complicated. It was just a rut. They were all adults. Why did he feel guilty? Bardock was fine, and Bardock would be fine. Bardock had been there to clean up after the last three ruts, after all. He couldn't have been surprised.

It suddenly struck Vejiita that he should ask Nappa to find out if Kakkarot had ever gone into rut himself before... Although, honestly, that shouldn't make any difference. Kakkarot was fully grown. He had to know that what had happened... Kuso. This wasn't making anything any better, and why was he brooding over it anyway? He could take anyone he liked, in rut or out of it!

*"Please, `Jiita, not you..."*

Vejiita slammed his fist into the rail, shattering the wood without noticing.

Enough. There were other things to think about. He was the king of Vegetasei, sovereign of the first Saiyajin Empire. His homeworld was secure. His dynasty was assured. Surely that was something worth musing over.

It had not always been that way. At the beginning, he'd gone to bed almost every night certain that he'd lost it all. So many things had been lost with Furiza and his father. It had been shocking to realize how dependent their world had become on the icejins and their technology, and on icejin priorities. The icejins projected that a certain number of systems would be cleared within a certain time frame. The saiyajins adjusted their *breeding* to make sure there would be enough saiyajins of the correct power levels available to take out those systems. Even saiyajin infants were sent out to kill off the populations of entire planets. If they died, too bad. If they succeeded, then someone would be along to pick them up in a decade or two.

The thought sickened Vejiita. Icejin priorities had perverted the whole scope of saiyajin life, in return for technology and the promise of endless bloodshed. His father had known and been unable to stop it. He'd died in the attempt. But his son.... Once he'd killed Furiza, he'd spent the next decade trying to reconstruct all that was truly saiyajin. It had been unbelievably hard, and such sacrifices had been made that he didn't like to think about them.

All the alien technicians had been cleared from the planet, even those who were slaves. Saiyajins had been required to learn those jobs. It would not do to be dependent on others. There had been infrastructure failures because of this, even famine in some regions, before saiyajin expertise had grown sufficient. But how many had died?

And how many had he been forced to abandon? How many saiyajins serving on icejin planets or on icejin purging teams had died horrible deaths because he'd been too weak to save them from the wrath of Furiza's kin?

He had grown strong. He had made his people strong, translating saiyajin strengths into the backbone of empire, taking in vassal states too frightened of the icejin to stand alone, conquering the stubborn, and building a vast buffer zone around Vegetasei. The saiyajin homeworld would not be threatened like that, would never come so close to destruction again, as long as his line survived.

He felt his tail bristle in defiance, and sighed again, wondering why he couldn't seem to control his emotions lately. The rut had left him completely now, but he was still so edgy, all of his emotions so highly pitched. What the hell had rut done to him, anyway?

Across the courtyard, the lights in Bardock's apartments were suddenly lit. Vejiita waited some little time, and then took to the air.

********************

Bardock groaned as he sprawled out on his bed. He was still fully clothed, and he didn't really intend to retire for the evening, but the decadent, upholstered pile of silks and velvets had taken control of his brain the second he'd entered his bedroom. The tank had done its work, and he felt good enough, but that didn't make his own bed any less welcome. Purring lightly, he sat up long enough to kick his boots off, and then he collapsed backwards. Like all saiyajins, he was too much a slave to his senses to resist anything so soft and silky and warm and comfy. Laughing at himself, he let himself sink.

Today was technically not the weirdest day of his life. That title was reserved for the day he'd attacked Furiza's ship. Plagued with visions that constantly drove him to the edge of sanity, bleeding, grieving for slaughtered friends, he had driven himself up into the atmosphere to die in defense of his home. He hadn't expected to live. Even less had he expected to find himself comforting his ascended prince, cradling him in his arms as the boy destroyed Furiza's ship with one gesture.

Today didn't even really compare.

He'd been in the tank for six days, apparently having seizures that had scared the hell out of the doctors. Vejiita had severely injured him, but Bardock didn't hold that against his king. Bardock's own ruts were often violent. He remembered clearly enough to know that he'd been challenging Vejiita's authority, and that was something that Vejiita never tolerated well, in rut or out of it. The fact that he'd woken up dripping wet with tank solution hadn't really surprised him.

What *had* surprised him was Kakkarot. His son had obviously just come out of a tank himself, but he had seemed completely calm, even when relaying horrible news. He'd told Bardock about Radditz's disappearance, along with the current theories about it. He had relayed the news of his appointment to the Guard without any of the emotions Bardock would have expected from this son. Nor had he shown much feeling while listening to the doctors assure Bardock that his injuries were healed and that there was no further sign of the seizures. Filling Bardock in on the extent of his own injuries in private, Kakkarot had then turned around to show his father the damage Vejiita had done him. Bardock had winced, seeing the royal crest carved into his son's flesh. Even worse was the bite mark.

"Did he claim you?" Bardock had asked hesitantly.

"He was punishing me," Kakkarot had said flatly. Then he'd smiled, and Bardock had been reminded forcefully of his vision.

Now he stared at the ceiling, trying to recall it completely. It was the first vision he'd had since the death of Furiza. He hadn't had more than a handful, and they hadn't come true. Vegetasei hadn't been destroyed. His son hadn't ever sparred with the king, and had never ascended. When they'd stopped altogether, he hadn't really been surprised. It hadn't been much of a curse after all. In fact, if he hadn't tried to stop Furiza, Vejiita would never have noticed the battle, or heard Furiza's gloating, or ascended and killed the freak. Call them visions of a possible future, then, instead of one etched in steel.

*His son in glory. Assaulting Vejiita, meaning to kill him.*

Fuck. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He had enough things to worry about, without the weight of the future on him. For one thing, there was Radditz. His sweet, vicious beast of a son. The chances were good that the Kurdek ambassador was behind it in some way, taking revenge for his son. On the other hand, that would have been a convenient cover for an icejin operation. Radditz was a commander in his sector, and his ties to the palace must have promised further sensitive information. Or it could be any of a number of small systems, either getting revenge or trying to get leverage against Vejiita by taking Bardock's son.

So far, all probes had come up dry. Nor had there been any demands for ransom.

Searching inside and outside of himself, Bardock had come to the conclusion that Radditz was still alive, but that was all. No answer came to him when he queried along their link. It was enough to drive a parent to despair.

Bardock sighed.

He was tired. His brain was tired, rather. His body seemed fine, ready to beat the shit out of someone. In fact, maybe that was a good idea. A little brainless violence might be just the thing...

He flipped himself off the bed and went out into his common room, meaning to find his way out to the elite arena. There should be someone or something there worth demolishing. Kakkarot was on duty for another hour or so, or he'd batter his son to a pulp. For old times' sake, but also because he might be able to break through that brittle pretense of calm acceptance.

"Going somewhere?"

Vejiita.

The king lay sprawled out on one of his divans, a glass of his wine in one hand. Hair that hadn't been brushed up into the royal style was draped across velvet pillows. His uniform jacket was unbuttoned, exposing the pale flesh of his throat. Dark eyes sparkled at him.

*Damn . . .*

"Comfortable, brat-sama?" Bardock asked.

"Hai..." Vejiita rumbled. "I believe I am."

Bardock snorted and sat down on a cushion next to the divan. He felt oddly relaxed, as if finding Vejiita here, on this day, was only to be expected.

"How's the wine?" he asked. Vejiita took a sip, evaluating.

"Excellent."

"It should be, considering it's from your private stock."

Vejiita raised an eyebrow at him. Bardock grinned. "Your steward's afraid of me."

The king bared a fang. "Hn. Remind me to break something of his. Perhaps his spine."

"Not me. Your wine agrees with me," Bardock said.

Both men smiled. It was well known throughout the palace that Bardock was allowed virtually anything he asked for. It was a situation eased by the fact that the former third-class soldier never really asked for that much.

"I saw Kakkarot," Bardock said. "He does well."

Vejiita regarded his wine for such a long time that Bardock thought he'd offended him. At last he sighed softly. "I am...sorry for what happened."

Bardock looked closely at him. Vejiita did not apologize often. "Scars are scars," Bardock said neutrally. "He's a grown man."

Vejiita's expression was intense, but unreadable. "Did he tell you the rest?"

"That you broke his tail in two places, bit him where his soul-mate's claim mark should go, and raped him?" Bardock asked, his voice flat but not altogether cold. "No, but I made it my business to know."

"It was rut," Vejiita said absently, as if stating the obvious.

"Hai, and madness. I hold no ill will against you. But I never would have let him near you if I'd known you were in rut."

Dark eyes were raised to his. "You knew he was raped as a boy?"

Bardock sighed deeply and rested his head against Vejiita's shoulder. The king didn't even note the familiarity.

"I knew. But it was too dangerous here to bring them back right then, and if I did, then what? How much more humiliating would that have been? And they would have been branded as easy targets for life. If Radditz hadn't done what he did, I would have seen to it myself, somehow. As it was, I let it be, and Kakkarot seemed happier not having me know," Bardock said softly.

There was silence for a long time. Eventually, Vejiita lifted a hand and gently ran his fingers through Bardock's hair. "I am sorry," he said again, somewhat gruffly.

"I know," Bardock said, lifting his head to look at his king. "I don't blame anyone, except maybe myself, for sending them off-planet in the first place."

Vejiita stroked his face softly. "We will find one son and fix the other," he said, smirking a little. "All will yet be well."

Bardock looked into his eyes, thinking unacceptable thoughts. "I believe you," he said faintly, almost whispering.

It seemed such an easy thing, such a natural thing, to lean over then and kiss Vejiita. Bardock had no doubts that sweet mouth would open for him, and it did, letting him taste wine and lust. Tongues played, sliding gently across each other, tasting, touching. He angled his head, deepening the kiss, and was rewarded with a faint moan as Vejiita responded, sliding a strong hand around Bardock's neck and bringing him closer. A deep purr began in Bardock's chest.

Then Vejiita broke their kiss, pushing him away and sitting up. The glass of wine was thrown into the fireplace, for lack of a table at hand. Flushed, breathing heavily, the younger man presented Bardock with an almost irresistible image of royal lust. Yet Vejiita put his hand across Bardock's mouth, stopping him from resuming their kiss.

"I'm not in rut," the king said harshly. "You don't have to do this. I didn't come here for this."

Bardock was on his knees now and between Vejiita's. He slid his arms around the royal waist and leaned his head against his chest. "Rut *is* over," he agreed. "I still seem to want you, though. Is that a bad thing?"

A moment passed where neither of them moved. Then Vejiita tilted Bardock's head back and looked into shimmering eyes. "Remind me to punish you later for your presumption."

A kiss, long and cherishing. Vejiita lapped at soft lips and clever tongue, sucking and relishing. Bardock was warm and he tasted good, and Vejiita made no objection when hands began to relieve him of his clothes. A few more moments saw Bardock's own clothes gone, and the two brawny saiyajins lay next to each other on the divan, touching and tasting heated skin, letting tails twine and stroke.

Vejiita leaned forward and licked at the softness behind Bardock's ear, then sucked and nibbled at his earlobe, worrying it gently with his teeth. He laughed as a talented tail ran up the cleft of his ass, teasing and tickling. Purring, he pressed his lean body against Bardock's bulkier one, enjoying the simple fact of being naked with the man. Hard lengths pressed against muscular flesh, making lungs harder to fill, making restraint a thing of the past.

Bardock sucked hard at Vejiita's nipples, sharp teeth bringing the blood out first. A strong and clever hand ran down his spine, caressing him and ending up wrapped around the base of his tail. There was a tug, and Bardock turned over happily on his stomach, knowing that there was no other choice. Vejiita might someday let a lover dominate him, but that day certainly wasn't today. And Bardock really didn't mind at all.

Sharp teeth nibbled delicately at the base of his tail, and a hot tongue swiped over his musk glands, making Bardock moan loudly. Hands worked devilishly through soft fur as a sleazy mouth began kissing and sucking and biting its way up Bardock's back. Soft kisses were laid on his neck and ear, and then Vejiita stole all of his breath, stroking his tail and kissing him deeply and hard.

A strong hand pulled Bardock up on his knees, and a strong tail strapped his ass and then took over the job of stroking his tail, making him tremble and purr with pleasure. Freed hands fondled him with deliberate care, rolling and caressing his balls, massaging his ass, and brushing too softly over the head of his cock. Bardock purred and moaned and rubbed his cheek against the satin pillow.

A mouth...! Ah....sweet kisses and sharp bites and soft, sloppy licks tormenting rounded flesh and hidden delights. Nails were raked delicately down his ass, leaving a gentle burning behind, each stinging line licked and lingered over until Bardock squirmed, his entire body tingling and sparkling with sensation.

Hands worked over him, spanking him, caressing him, kneading his flesh, making him ready, spreading him wide. He arched and purred under his lord's hands, turning lazy eyes on the handsome face of his lover, wanting to see it at *that* instant.

Vejiita looked down at the masculine beauty spread out for him, at the delicious curves and hollows of a brawny form that was entirely his at the moment. And at any other moment he should desire him. Meeting Bardock's eyes, he smiled with pure sensual pleasure and slid forward into tight heat.

Bardock howled, a simple primal sound, as Vejiita moved in him, thick hardness filling him, striking every pleasurable place. There was a certain spot... *Ah, kami...!!!*

Vejiita was not gentle with him. Neither of them wanted it that way. Bardock pushed his hips higher, writhing, trying to please and get *more*. He was rewarded, and the dance became more brutal until Bardock couldn't bear another stroke; he shrieked and came hard without a hand touching his cock. Above him, Vejiita laughed breathlessly in simple joy and came in the midst of it.

Panting, he braced himself against Bardock's hips for some time, until he was steady again. Then he threw himself down on the man, collapsing them both to the cushions. Both men laughed at that, and there was some kissing, some cuddling, a nose nipped, an ass slapped, and tails twining before they subsided together into a sort of drowsy happiness.

Bardock held the hot form of his king against him, thinking that this was a better solution to his problem than working out ever would have been. He didn't ask for much of anything from Vejiita, mostly because he was given everything. It occurred to him that this might not be the case forever, but he was a saiyajin: he was happy now, and that was enough for the moment.

He felt Vejiita fall towards sleep against him, and was happy enough to follow him. But he wasn't asleep yet when Vejiita whispered Kakkarot's name before sliding into slumber.

Bardock held onto him, turning that whisper over and over in his mind, waiting for jealously and possession to drive him into a frenzy. He fell asleep, content, still waiting.

On the balcony outside that chamber, the same balcony Vejiita had used to gain entrance, Kakkarot sat with his back against the wall, staring up at the stars. He had heard all the loudest sounds of their passion, certainly enough to tell him what was happening. His father and Vejiita. Vejiita and his father.

As if none of what happened *before* mattered.

Alone and lonely, aggrieved and miserable, he stretched his senses out, trying to catch something of Radditz out there. He'd never missed his brother so much in his life. He caught the faintest...something, a wisp of life, confirmation of existence. And recognition? He hoped, but he couldn't be sure.

*Brother, where are you?*

Nothing more than that faintest shards of possible life.

Twin tears rolled down pale cheeks. And were quickly wiped away.

Kakkarot quietly spiraled up into the night sky, a plan forming in his mind.

Beneath him, Bardock twitched uncomfortably in his sleep, almost dreaming.

tbc