Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dominion ❯ Chapter 12

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Dominion

Author: Xero Sky

Date: July/August/September/October 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. References to consensual incest between adult siblings.

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 12

Vejiita, Saiyajin no Ou, dreamed. On a bed of the finest linens, silks, and furs, the monarch lay naked, his body covered with a fine sheen of sweat as he moved slowly with his dream. Above his bed, the moon shone down, still weeks away from being full, the rays filtered in any case by the transparent alloy window panes. Cool rays played over soft skin and sculpted muscles as he turned and writhed, his tail coiling and uncoiling in great, lazy arcs.

Thin streaks constantly broke and faded against the sky, sometimes heralded by small, bright flares of light. Shooting stars, hundreds of them, were lacing through the atmosphere as Vegetasei moved through a band of meteor showers. It was a breathtaking sight, yet one that Vejiita did not appreciate. Something far more beautiful had his mind captivated. Sleep had him, and dreams, and the snares of the soul.

Breathing roughly, he murmured indistinct words, a name. Hands clutched at the covers. A thin keening sound broke from his throat, fading into a deep purr....

*****The well-oiled hands moved on him, stripping the strength away from his body even as they kneaded and explored his flesh. He could not resist or avoid them, could not prevent them from wandering wherever they wanted to. Every portion of his body was carefully and tenderly learned, then abandoned for the next part. Caresses left him burning as he was sweetly, deliciously robbed of all ownership of his own body.

It could not have been different, not this time. His strength could have gotten him free, but his desire would not allow it. The struggle had been sharp yet brief, and when it was done he had surrendered himself entirely to the man now claiming him with strong, possessive touches.

Kakkarot.

He could break Vejiita's tail in revenge if he liked, could do anything he wanted to. It didn't matter. Vejiita would suffer it, suffer anything just to have him close. If not for rut, he would never have hurt his mate, but neither would he have found him. Unrepentant, he was willing to pay any price. Anything Kakkarot needed, he could have.

He braced himself for the pain as strong hands took hold of his tail. There was a pause, and then he felt the oil being worked into his fur, making every small bone and nerve vulnerable to the simplest touches. He moaned extravagantly, not caring now if pain followed. He would feel it then, if it came. Right now... Gods, no one had ever touched him this way before. And he had never been so out of control.

Control... He had given it up to his lover, his mate. He had always, always been alone, always prince or king. Every lover had betrayed him eventually, asking for some gift or favor, and destroying the fragile trust Vejiita had let himself have for them. And, no one, no one had ever been this close to him, this intimate. He was a dominant male, a saiyajin king: he liked being in control. Yet he would give it all up for Kakkarot, to please him, to calm his fears, to make Kakkarot feel safe with him. And for now, he had.

Hands stroked his tail with gentle, cruel precision, making sure that every inch of it was thoroughly ruffled and teased and soothed. Vejiita whimpered and moaned, pressing into and writhing against the lovely fur beneath them. He wanted it to stop, to never stop... whatever Kakkarot wanted him to feel. He wanted to beg.

Beg. He was the Saiyajin no Ou, and his mate was a younger man, a soldier of the lower nobility, rated as third-class and sent off as a purger as an infant.

None of that mattered. Kakkarot was his mate, his chosen one. Kakkarot no Misen. He would do anything for him. Even beg, if Kakkarot wanted to hear it.

A long stroke from root to tip. "Kakkarot!" he moaned. "Please...."

A hand stayed on his tail, and the other drifted slowly downwards, teasing the sensitive musk glands and then sliding down into the cleft of his ass. Slick fingers found and began stroking his entrance, not pushing inside, but massaging him intimately.

It felt so good....

"Have you ever been taken, Vejiita?" Kakkarot drawled lazily, his hands never faltering.

It was hard to form words under such a pleasant assault, but Vejiita forced his body to his will. "Of course," he said finally, thinking about the very few times he'd allowed it outside of rut. It was a wonderful feeling inside, but he hadn't ever liked to be that out of control of the processes of pleasure. Being dependent on the precisely stroking cock of another for his bliss had often made Vejiita uneasy enough to spoil the moment. Once he'd found a way to be invaded to his satisfaction and still be in control, he'd begun allowing it more and more, mindful of the fact that he wasallowing it.

Kakkarot slapped his ass hard, making Vejiita jump and yelp. The hand on his tail curled into a fist around it, squeezing slightly, threatening him with more punishment. "Have you ever been taken?" he asked again, his tone full of lazy darkness. "Fucked for another's pleasure, made to offer up your climax to him?"

Coldness ran through Vejiita's veins. "No, Kakkarot," he said softly, tenderly. "I've never been raped."

A low laugh came from above him, accompanied by another careful stroke of his tail. "Not rape, Vejiita. Just... surrender to the situation." The wicked chuckle that followed made Vejiita's tail frizz out, despite the heavy coating of oil. It seemed to race down his spine straight to his cock, pressed underneath him into the soft fur.

"No..." he breathed, trying not to think about what would happen if Kakkarot chose not to continue with this.

"Then I really think you should be," Kakkarot said inevitably, his low laughter tangling with the rising purr in his chest as one and then two of his fingers slipped inside Vejiita.

The king arched up off the bed, wanting this and not wanting it in equal measure. He clenched almost involuntarily, and Kakkarot tugged his tail ungently, forcing him to cant his hips back up, spreading himself.

"Saa, Vejiita," he heard. "It's far too late for that now..."

Talented, tormenting fingers felt of him at their leisure, opening him further, spreading him wider, and then softly brushing across his sweet spot.

He cried out as liquid bliss rolled up his spine and shot out to his toes and fingertips. Panting, he rubbed his cheek against the softness beneath him, sensations overwhelming him. His tail wrapped Kakkarot's arm up to his shoulder, the oiled fur slapping golden skin. As he subsided, at last, he was touched there again, and he pushed backwards as much as he could, wanting more. Kakkarot simply moved away, despite the grip of his tail, unwilling to grant him even that much control. Vejiita cried out in disappointment as the feeling faded again.

Touching. Ecstasy. Fading. Waiting for the next time. The rhythmic cycle continued until Vejiita was a pulsing, pleading, sweating thing, moaning and gasping Kakkarot's name over and over. "Please, oh gods, Kakkarot, please..."

Kakkarot slipped free of him and took hold of his hips. Vejiita arched and spread himself, waiting for it, his tail lightly musking in invitation as it unwound Kakkarot's arm to caress his chest. Purring, he cast a glance back over his shoulder at his lover.

The younger saiyajin was enough to take his breath away. Sheer, muscled perfection, eyes full of intense emotions, handsome face flushed with desire, framed by wild, dark hair, his dark tail curling strongly around his own... So beautiful...

Kakkarot slid his body slowly along Vejiita's, settling his weight on him as he stretched over him. Oiled skin glided together, making every inch of movement unbearably arousing. The monarch moaned as his lover's tongue touched the back of his neck, lapping taste and sweat in slick hot strokes. Kakkarot snuffled along his hair, scenting his excitement.

"Is this what you want, Vejiita?" he asked darkly, moving his hips so that his erection slid against Vejiita's flesh.

"Hai..." Vejiita moaned. He wanted it. Not the act itself, not sex, the fact of penetration. He wanted his mate, inside him, with him, around him. He needed him, craved him, lusted for him, longed for him.

There were delicate nips and bites around the circumference of his ear and down his shoulder, and then Kakkarot was moving, depriving him of his delicious heat to sit between Vejiita's spread thighs. Kakkarot stroked and fondled his king, and then gently drew him up on his knees. Then with a slow, relentless thrust, he sank himself into Vejiita's flesh, moving his hips until the angle was just right and he was fully sheathed.

Filled and invaded, the king trembled beneath his lover. His tail looped up around Kakkarot's neck to embrace him and keep him there.

"Are you afraid I'll leave you, Vejiita?" Kakkarot purred, withdrawing partly before pushing back in.

Thrust. Vejiita could hardly think; it felt so very good to have Kakkarot inside him now, his thick cock brushing every sensitive, mind-blowing place.

"Afraid of being alone again?"

Thrust. Kakkarot's words penetrated more deeply than his cock, tearing into his soul. Vejiita sobbed with pleasure and pain, the latter all coming from the emptiness inside him.

"Afraid of losing your heart's mate, your only solace, the only thing that will make the rest of your life worth living, Vejiita?"

Thrust. He begged. "Please........." Please just fuck me, let me come, take your pleasure and stop, stop saying those things to me.

"Afraid I'll tear your soul apart? Is that what you're afraid of, Vejiita?" the voice purring darkly above him.

Thrust.

"YES!!!" he screamed suddenly, body and soul conspiring to expose him to Kakkarot in every remaining way.

There was laughter, soft and wicked, from the man who held his life in his hands now. "Confession is good for the soul, Vejiita."

Then the pace picked up mightily as Kakkarot began moving faster and harder, rocking both of their bodies forward, driving Vejiita into the fur coverlet and the mattress beneath.

Vejiita sobbed and moaned and cooed, trying to get more, to get completion, to get everything from Kakkarot, his mate, his truly chosen one. "My mate, my mate, my mate," he sighed and moaned, the words coming out of in a dozen different ways, yet not faltering now. He was being taken by his mate, and there were no words to express how wild and open and owned he felt.

He reached up to touch his leaking cock, only to have his hand slapped sharply away. "Mine," Kakkarot growled, biting him on the back of his neck. Vejiita subsided. There was something strangely arousing about being commanded by his lover, and he obediently slid his hand back to where it was helping support them.

Kakkarot thrust into him madly, bringing them both hysterical pleasure, bringing them agonizingly close. "It's time, Vejiita," Kakkarot said. "Now." And Vejiita howled his climax without another touch to his aching flesh, feeling Kakkarot thrust and heave once more before following him into white bliss.

He heard words from above him, behind him, everywhere, as his mate's warm, sweaty body settled on and around him.

"Time runs against us, Vejiita...."*****

The king woke, panting. For a moment he blinked in muzzy confusion, wondering where his mate was. Then reality settled coldly around him, like dark water closing over his head. Kakkarot hated him, had rejected him and fled. There was no sweet mate here to soothe him, to draw him down into a warm embrace and banish his demons. No trusting, trustworthy heart to beat against his own.

He shook his head, trying to free himself of such stupid, sappy thoughts. They weren't going to change anything. His bond-mate despised him for things he'd done out of the darkness of his heart. Logic told him it had been the rut and hormones and need. A far colder and equally familiar voice told him that maybe Kakkarot was right. Maybe he was right to flee. Kakkarot and Bardock, his lovers, had both trusted him and suffered for it. The elder might have healed, but his mate...

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

In the stillness, he heard his soulmate's voice, begging him not to hurt him again, not to take by force and cruelty what had been freely, lovingly offered.

Maybe Kakkarot had been right.

Vejiita no Ou lay back on his bed, watching the shooting stars cross the sky, leaving faint trails of light like scars behind them.

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

Hundreds of miles to the south, black eyes snapped open to equal darkness streaked with light. Kakkarot panted softly, reaching out without realizing it for the mate who should be lying next to him. With a start, he snatched his hand back as he remembered where he was and who.

It had just been a dream. Nothing to get excited about. Although maybe that was the wrong word. He reached down with one hand, already knowing what he would find. Fingers ran through the slick, cooling warmth of his own seed.

*"Confession is good for the soul, Vejiita."*

Damn him to a thousand hells. Even in his sleep, Vejiita haunted him.

Sick with rage and the ghosts of desire, Kakkarot curled his hands into tight fists and watched the shooting stars spend themselves uselessly against the night.

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

The two saiyajins sat quietly, cross-legged on the floor and facing each other. Hands were loosely resting on thighs. Tails wove lazily back and forth in time with each other, though neither saiyajin noticed. Their breathing, even the blinking of their eyes had gradually synchronized over the last several minutes as they sat with each other, senses gradually extending from their selves to the other.

A stranger might have thought they were engaged in some battle of wills. The expression on the younger man's face was thunderous now, and had grown increasingly more so. The mass of Radditz' hair was tied back into a single braid, but drooping spikes of hair had plastered themselves to his face as the sweat slowly dripped from his brow. It was unbelievably hard work now to keep still and keep the connection he had to his uncle, after everything he had seen. The urge to violence, always just beneath a saiyajin's skin, was all but overwhelming now.

It had been much simpler than Turles had imagined. After all his years of planning, all he had needed to do was simply show his nephew the raw images he had gleaned from his brother's mind, and through him, from Kakkarot's mind. The mental bonds between saiyajin kin were always strong, and the skill he'd gained over the years had made it easy enough to give Radditz all the motivation Turles needed him to have. An uncle and a nephew would probably not normally be able to do this unless they were especially close. The irony of that was not lost on Turles.

With a sigh, he cut off the link. He said nothing, just looked at the younger man, giving him time to process it all.

He could see Bardock's blood in him now, in his eyes and the shape of his face. That hair must have come from his dam's side, though; Turles was fairly certain nothing like it had been seen in his family before. It was a mark of vanity in more ways than one, certainly. It was fragrant, lovely to the touch, no doubt, and, of course, something that only a complete bad-ass could get away with in a fight.

He knew the man's reputation. He'd done his work beforehand, both out of predatory need and pride in his family. Despite the grief he knew Vejiita's death would cause Bardock, he believed firmly that his family had to be extracted from the palace and the poisonous embrace of the House of Vegeta. At times he felt he was following this course as much for his family as for the others. They had to be protected, whether they knew it or not.

He flicked his memory over the images he'd sent Radditz. Kakkarot, scarred, marked and broken from his service to the king, raped and driven to the madness of attacking an officer older and more powerful than he. The image of Kakkarot, bleeding and crumpled, with Vejiita standing over him, had sparked a rage in Radditz that surpassed even his earlier fury. Bardock's images from Kakkarot's mind of the rape, of his shame, his fury, and a bitter hurt against his soul, had nearly driven Radditz mad with anguish and anger. Turles had felt that clearly from the young man. The images from Bardock of rut, of being injured, of making love to Vejiita afterwards because he still desired him, of risking his life to come to his son's defense, had all touched this son deeply, driving his affections sharply in different directions.

Radditz would come around. He'd be driven to it by the very actions of the men he most respected. Turles had taken all the earlier precautions - blinding him, cutting his tail off - because he'd expected to have to manage a hostage. He hadn't been happy with it at the time. In fact, he'd nearly vomited after setting the knife to his nephew's flesh, even though he'd witnessed hundreds of much more heinous acts in his lifetime. None of the others had been against family, though. His hands had been covered in the blood of Bardock's son. The wrongness of that had shaken him to the core. But that was all done with now.

Radditz would help him. Instead of a hostage, he would have an ally. He was sure of it. His nephew didn't have to share any of his higher convictions. That didn't matter much. What motivated Radditz were Kakkarot's injuries, his vulnerability, his suffering while Radditz had been unable to protect him. Turles understood better than Radditz that Vejiita's actions were a product of being in rut and out of control. Even he doubted that the king would have raped and tortured Kakkarot if he'd not been insane with hormones.

But, damn, it was convenient for Turles that he had been. It made the bile rise in the back of his throat, but that boy's suffering was entirely to his advantage. It motivated Radditz. It separated Kakkarot from the king. Even Bardock's bizarre affections for Vejiita had been clouded by concern for his youngest son.

Radditz sighed and moved restlessly, his abbreviated tail thumping the deck. He wasn't ready to talk yet. That much was evident in his face. Turles got up and moved to the other side of the cabin, giving him a little space. Looking at the younger man in profile, Turles found himself thinking of days gone by. When he was younger, someone like Radditz would have made his blood rush. He was third-class, certainly, and an elite officer like Radditz would have supposedly been out of his reach, but in reality Turles had rarely met anyone he couldn't have. And he would have had Radditz, certainly. Sexually omnivorous, like most saiyajins, he appreciated beauty where he found it. Even then, when he'd only really wanted one person. Even now.

He closed his eyes as thoughts of Vejiita sprang to mind. These images were courtesy of his brother, and they burned him worse than the others had, though he hadn't let any of his feelings leak through to Radditz. He felt outrage and sorrow for Kakkarot, but it was his brother's actions that made him ache. Thoughts of Vejiita's handsome face, of the taste of his flesh, of the feeling of being entered by him - Bardock had strong and pleasant memories of making love with Vejiita the evening he'd gotten released from the tanks.

Those feelings had still been strongly in Bardock's mind the last time Turles had touched it, a few hours after the fight that had left Kakkarot crushed. Even prowling around the tank that held his bleeding son, Bardock hadn't been able to dismiss completely his thoughts of desire. It had infuriated Turles so much that he hadn't touched Bardock's mind since. He didn't need to, really. He had gleaned enough to tip Radditz over the edge and into his lap. And he couldn't bear it.

They would reach Vegetasei very soon now. A few hours would see them hitting the atmosphere of the homeworld, masked by shooting stars and refugees. All he had to do was let Radditz think things over before giving him the details of his proposal. Radditz might still hate him for mutilating his tail and taking him captive, but he would agree. Then they could get down to the business of killing Vejiita no Ou.

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

Rai was going to get in trouble. He fully understood as much, but, as always, he didn't really care. He was the saiyajin no ouji - well, one of them - and he would get in as much trouble as he liked. Otousan's punishments were usually awful, and he could never seem to wheedle and charm his way out of them, like the children of other parents did, but he'd deal with that later.

Right now, Nappa was gonna get it.

From Rai's angle, the big Guard was absolutely huge, simply the biggest saiyajin he'd ever seen. Under normal circumstances, that would have put him outside the normal reach of a three year old prince with bad intentions. Well, his size plus the fact that nothing much ever caught Nappa by surprise. Both princes considered his apparently invulnerability to be something of an insult, and they plotted constantly, devising pranks and mischief that were always foiled. It was no way for princes of the blood to be treated.

Eyes gleaming, he moved in on his target. There was more than one score to be settled. Not only were there, uh, years of frustration to be made up for, but he'd also just been swept up and taken off to Medical against his will, and he wasn't even close to sick! Pausing to fume for a moment, he reflected on the indignity of being dragged out of ki practice just because Nappa had to go somewhere suddenly. That was NOT the way things were supposed to work. The guards were supposed to follow *him* around!

Well, it *was* true that Nappa was different. He even got to order Vegita around, and despite his sister's perpetual outrage, she had to do what he said. The diminutive ouji thought about it for a second, then decided that it didn't matter. He'd been scooped up by Nappa's tail and carried like a *baby*.

The big man was gonna pay.

Rai maneuvered over to where Nappa stood, near one of the tanks, yelling at one of the doctors. The ouji paid no mind to what he was saying; what was important was that the man was distracted and that his tail was whipping back and forth instead of being wrapped neatly around his waist.

Rai made his move.

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

Nappa raged. "I told you to call me the second she woke up, not an hour later!!"

The doctor, already unhealthily pale, blanched even further. "Like I told you, Nappa-sama, her eyes are open, but she's not respon-"

"Is she looking at me, kisama?"

"She may appear to -"

"Is she?"

"I don't know!" the doctor finally snapped. "Her brain waves have been nothing short of bizarre for the last five hours. An hour ago she opened her eyes, but she hasn't moved anything else, even though it appears that the last of the spinal cord damage is healed. There have been periods of apparent lucidity before, but this is the longest and most dramatic."

Nappa turned back to the woman in the tank, who stared back at him, her gaze never wavering. Very slowly, she blinked, her eyes out of synchronization, so that first one eyelid dipped and then the other. After a few moments, it happened again. He cursed softly.

He'd thought it something better than this, something more, when he'd received the call. That was why, instead of proceeding with dignity and authority, he'd simply snagged Rai up with his tail and taken the brat along, making it to Medical in record time. He should have gone through the turn-over to another Guard; he didn't even really know why the hell he'd taken duty with the princeling this morning anyway. Maybe because it was fun to watch the little ones, and a break from the relentlessness of the rest of his day. Maybe because he had to get away from Vejiita for a while, because he couldn't stand another full day of watching his king, his friend, pretend that nothing was wrong, that he wasn't fucking well aching for that bakayaro mate of his.

But here he was. And now what he had feared was likely true: Tsuriya was brain-damaged, and he was going to have to put her down, because a saiyajin of her strength without her wits intact was a disaster waiting to happen. There weren't many who could do the deed and no one better than him.

Gods above and below... What celestial power had the royal House pissed on, to draw this down on them all?

"When will we know for sure?" he asked quietly, still holding her gaze. Or so he hoped.

"A few more hours, at most," the doctor said, divining his meaning without any trouble. "Any permanent damage will have become apparent by then."

He would have to tell the doctor to call for him when the time came. He'd have to get Vejiita's approval, of course, since taking the life of a Royal Guard was an act of treason. Vejiita might want to do it himself, in fact, though Nappa would rather it was his own hand that sent her to Hell. He didn't imagine that anyone as bitchy as Tsuriya would make it to rebirth without a detour there first....

Before he actually managed to so much as twitch, however, he roared instead, seeing the faint reflection of his distended mouth and bulging eyes in the tank window as a small hand grabbed him hard and needle teeth met each other through the tip of his tail. The pain, oh gods, it was like someone had slammed his dick in a door or something; it rocketed up his tail and spine to slam into the back of his skull, nearly knocking him down to his knees.

He spun to find the little shithead ouji attached to him, blood spilling out of both sides of his mouth, grinning at him through his mouthful of tail. With a snarl, Nappa flexed his tail hard, snapping it at the end of the arc and sending the little prince flying. Rai took a piece of Nappa with him as he disappeared through the outside wall next to the window, leaving a neat hole and an enraged saiyajin elite behind him.

Nappa stared at his bleeding and battered tail in disbelief. How the hell had the little bastard snuck up on him like that? He fully knew *why* the brat had done it; he was Vejiita's son, after all. The fact that he'd been distracted enough to give Rai an opening angered him almost as much as the crescent-shaped absence at the end of his tail. He looked up at the doctor, only to find the man bravely fighting off a smirk or some other suicidal facial expression; Nappa snarled, making the doctor's tail frizz out even as he repressed laughter.

Enough was enough. The burly Guard left without a word. A few steps into the hallway, he was sending orders for someone to collect the brat prince. He personally had had enough of the royal gods-damned family today. As for Tsuriya, he would leave her alone to decide her own fate. He couldn't do a damned thing for her now but take her life.

Splattering blood from his thrashing tail against both walls and passerby with the same lack of concern, Nappa stalked back to his own quarters. For the next few hours, at least, he was done.

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

Vejiita listened to the reports. Part of his mind, most of it, took in everything, evaluating the information, weighing it for threats or opportunities. The rest relentlessly replayed last night's dream for him, tormenting him. His head hurt, nastily, as he bent himself to his duty rather than giving in to the urge to blast everyone present to hell and go find his baka mate.

There was movement along much of the frontier, but nothing immediately indicating an attack. The number of incursions and small-scale attacks was up, though, which might be a testing of strength. Kula remained displeased with his brother's former lackeys, both with the audacity of killing Furiza and for the way they simply refused to be annihilated. Vejiita hadn't yet directly challenged Kula yet, but the day was coming.

Until then, Vejiita would continue with the expansion of the empire, encroaching constantly on icejin territory without providing immediate provocation. He acquired systems not through devastation, but through the threat of it. It did him no good to spread his own troops out thin over a hundred worlds. Instead, he held out a choice to each new inhabited system that came within his grasp: submit or die. It was as simple as that. There were no second chances, and no survivors. He'd only had to purge a couple of systems completely, rendering the planets uninhabitable down to the level of bacteria, before the rest of the species in this quadrant had gotten the idea.

It was almost a game now, except that Vejiita never, ever took Kula for granted. The entire saiyajin race had once been dependant solely on Vegetasei for their survival. That would not happen again. Nor would Vegetasei itself ever be threatened again as it had been. He never forgot the moments when the fate of his entire species had hinged solely on his own ability to grasp what was going on. If he hadn't been late... if Bardock had never had his visions... He had been meant to survive the death of his people. He couldn't imagine a life worth living if he had.

The reports moved on to the meteor showers. They were a regular occurrence on Vegetasei. Beautiful as the showers were, they were rubble from one of the first planets destroyed by saiyajin might. The unfortunate fact that the planet had been part of their own solar system meant that, on a regular basis, the homeworld got pounded. It could be looked on as some form of divine retribution, except that the showers were nothing more than a beautiful annoyance, knocking out the occasional satellite, holing an unlucky ship here and there, and providing a glorious show at night.

There was always concern that someone might make a move on the planet while radars were crowded with moving objects, but now that Vegetasei was free of alien species, any hostile, non-saiyajin ki would surely be detected. The king let his attention wander as the usual safeguards were smugly repeated by generals certain that their defenses would never be breached.

Kakkarot... Soft, smooth skin and warm kisses...

"...refugees..."

His head snapped up as the word jerked him from his reverie. The general who'd spoken it calmly repeated herself, not wanting to make the Ou ask for it.

"There's been a small influx of refugees from the Terux Majora system. There was apparently a slave rebellion two years ago, and everything with a tail on it made for home. There's been shitty little ships dropping like rocks on us for about two weeks now, and long-range scouting shows another half-dozen or so on the way. The last one didn't even survive the atmosphere, we think. They aren't going to fare too well against the light show," she said, jerking her thumb upwards.

"Have they all been checked for alteration?" Vejiita asked, something about this making his tail twitch. His head pounded unmercifully.

The general looked vaguely insulted, a fairly brave thing to be in front of Vejiita. "Hai. No signs of icejin contact at all, actually. They're all second-generation."

Vejiita closed his eyes briefly in disgust. Born slaves. He wondered how many were left out there, born in captivity to what were once saiyajin warriors. Pity didn't even begin to describe what he felt for them, nor was outrage a big enough concept to cover his emotions. They would all be welcomed home, but they would also spend two years in quarantine. The icejin implants were easy enough to spot, but the icejin conditioning was harder to pick up on.

"Fine," he said. "Is that all?"

There were looks exchanged around the room, telling him that they weren't done, but that nothing was important enough to risk his anger for.

He was on his feet and halfway out of the room before they finished with their sharply spoken affirmations. A few strides down a hallway rapidly clearing in front of him, and the meeting was already out of his mind. He could barely think of anything now but his dream. A hot body against and inside of him, a slick tongue, hard hands... It was enough to make his fur stand up. Far more compelling, though, was the memory of his willingness to offer himself, to offer everything he had to Kakkarot just have him near.

A wave of desire that came more from the heart and soul than the body overwhelmed him, making him almost dizzy. He had to get out of here.

"Cancel everything else for today," he said to one of the pair of Guards acting as his aides de camp for the day.

"Including your sparring session with Vegita no Oujo?" the Guard asked, knowing that the king rarely missed any time with his children.

"Everything!" Vejiita snarled in sudden fury, his eyes flashing teal. Then he turned on his heel and left the burly Guard stunned in his wake.

*Kakkarot, I said I'd leave you in peace until you were ready,* he thought. *But I don't think I can bear it much longer.*

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

Bardock watched his son struggle with the virvek. The huge beast sported teeth three inches long, a tail that could score steel and break bones, and, since it was a female, a cataclysmically bad temper. It was a nightmare, part of a species that had, in Bardock's opinion, just barely missed out on the race for dominance on Vegetasei. If they were just a little bit smarter - and could control ki, of course - they might have given the saiyajins some competition.

Bardock winced as Kakkarot was sent flying, breaking off a score of trees and eventually landing in a tangle of young saplings. He bit down hard on the urge to simple blast the virvek and get on with dinner. Kakkarot was in a foul-ass mood, complaining of a nasty headache, though. If he really wanted to take their dinner down the hard way, without using *any* ki, Bardock didn't have any serious objections. He was going to die of hunger soon, unloved and unappreciated in the middle of the fucking wild lands; other than that, he was content to watch his son work his frustrations out on their food. At least the meat would be well tenderized.

Hopefully a good meal would put the brat in a better mood. Bardock had heard enough about his headache for today, especially since he didn't believe it. He knew what the real cause of his son's sullen distraction had been.

Bardock had woken in the night to find Kakkarot writhing and moaning in his sleep. His senses had soon told him exactly what sort of dream the young man had been having, and the faintly whispered fragments of a name had told him who Kakkarot was dreaming of. It wasn't as if he'd needed the clue, though. His son was marked, bonded, and mated. Whether he liked it or not.

Apparently he had chosen the `not'.

The virvek raced underneath Bardock, not bothering to snap at him again. Kakkarot had descended to fight it, Kakkarot was the one pissing it off, and Kakkarot was the one it had its eyes on.

Bardock idly groomed his tail, picking out the odd burr, as the battle climaxed beneath him. A moment or three later, most of the virvek went sailing back the way it had come.

Bloody and disheveled, Kakkarot rose up into the air near his father, carrying the rest of the virvek and letting it drop near the other part. He was grinning, which Bardock took as a good sign. Nothing like a little blood and dismemberment to cheer a saiyajin up.

"Can we eat now, Kakkarot?"

"Hai," his son said. "You want it cooked or not?"

A blast of ki aimed at the carcass answered that question.

Afterwards, Bardock watched his son finish his meal, licking the blood and juices off his fingers. He still wore the remains of the bodysuit he'd gone into the tank with, and though relatively clean now after their fun at the lake this afternoon, it was battered and torn. The opposing crescents of his claim mark were easily seen against his tanned skin, turned to prominent scars by the regen tank. Natural healing would have made less obvious scars, but, of course, that hadn't really been an option.

His son was Vejiita's mate.

He was proud of his son, capturing the king like that, though he knew it wasn't really a matter of choice for either man. Vejiita would be good for Kakkarot, and vice versa. Both were fierce, territorial, possessive, and passionate. Both were, in their own ways, lonely. It was a good mating, and Bardock would give it his protection, as the saying went, when the time came for the ritual.

And yet it burned his own heart, to tell the truth. He had always been close to Vejiita, always dedicated, but in the last few weeks, during and after the rut, it had occurred to him that his feelings had become tinged with something more than devotion and affection.

He thought about sweet kisses, and had to look away from his son. Those weren't for him anymore. The only reason he'd had that one night with his king after the rut was that neither mate had recognized their bond yet.

Even if he thought Vejiita could ever want him again, he would never touch his son's mate. That brief, passionate chapter in his life was over.

Which left Bardock where? Back to the round of casual lovers, female and male, who satisfied him for the moment. He had a reputation as lusty and insatiable, and he therefore had no trouble finding partners.

He hadn't felt lonely before all this. A few nights of pleasure had undone him.

He missed his mates. They hadn't been bond-mates, but they had still been friends and lovers, the mothers of his sons. Neither had survived long, but he still had precious memories of their time together.

He tried not to let himself think of Turles, but the memories rose unbidden and insuppressible. For the longest time, since their childhood, they had only had each other. Closer than brothers, they had been friends, companions...everything to each other. When, as adults, they had been lovers on a few occasions, it had seemed somehow only a natural extension of their relationship. There was no great stigma attached to such things between adult siblings; among saiyajins love and lust clashed as they would, brooking no dissent. Turles had been everything he'd ever wanted.

When Radditz' mother had become pregnant, he'd mated her as a matter of course, not thinking for a second that she would come between himself and Turles, and she hadn't. Neither had Kakkarot's mother. The tides of war and conquest under Furiza's thumb had long torn saiyajin families apart, and he saw less and less of his brother. Everything else was good, though. There was as much fighting as a saiyajin could want, he had a wonderful son and another one about to be born...

And then everything had fallen apart. Kakkarot's mother died in childbirth. Bardock had been cursed with visions, and his crew was slaughtered. Furiza attacked, Vejiita ascended, and the whole way of life for generations of saiyajins was gone. And Turles... One day they had fought, saying cruel, easy things to each other. Then, just like that, he was gone, vanished into darkness. Bardock had felt him, had known that he suffered and lived. There hadn't been much choice; he'd had to go after Kakkarot first. His son was nearly defenseless, which Turles was a grown warrior. When he'd gotten back with the boy, all trace of Turles had vanished except for that faint, persistent, cherished link between them. And one night that constant, wailing presence in his mind that Turles had become had simply vanished.

Bardock had never forgotten or forgiven himself the fact that his first emotion was relief. Relief that the pain was gone for them both.

He'd never taken another mate. Certainly he'd never bond-mated, joining his soul with another, though that was hardly a matter of choice. Lovers of the moment never replaced what he'd lost, and he hadn't looked for them to. His isolation hadn't been out of respect for his son's mothers, really, though he occasionally told people that. He had felt, fundamentally, like a widower. He'd mourned Turles a very long time. Then, all of a sudden, there had been the thought and then the reality of Vejiita.

Now the possibility of Vejiita was gone. Turles had faded so far into the past that Kakkarot had never seen him.

Bardock remained.

He found Kakkarot looking at him intensely, his gaze unfriendly. Bardock stared back for a few moments, wondering what had gone wrong. Then he realized suddenly that the brat had picked up on some of his thoughts and was reacting, instinctively, to the ones about Vejiita. He bared his teeth at his son, amused despite himself. It was also a reaction to the challenge being offered him. He spiked his ki in warning.

Kakkarot's power began to rise. "What's your problem, Otousan? Miss your lover?" he asked nastily, sneering.

Bardock laughed. The brat didn't even know what was going on in his own head. "I thought he wasn't your mate, boy. What do you care?"

"Fuck you," Kakkarot snarled.

"No, that's enough of this shit!" Bardock snapped, having had quite enough, thank you. "I'm tired of fucking around out here, listening to you moan and groan and come in your sleep, because you're too goddamned much of a coward to finish bonding your mate."

Kakkarot flushed bright red as his father spoke, then abruptly lost all his color.

"If it wasn't for you, maybe I would have had a chance with him. You're snapping my head off for thinking about your mate, even if you won't admit it! I won't interfere, asshole. Even if I could. You've had the most precious gods-damned thing a saiyajin ever knows fall into your hands, and you won't grab hold of it! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Bardock shouted, furious now. Vejiita was lost, love was lost, and his son was letting pride and hurt feelings keep him squatting out here in the woods like an idiot. Decades of hurt welled up in Bardock's chest.

"He broke your tail, broke your little fairytale fantasies, did he? Well, who gives a shit?! He was in rut, and you know, you fucking know that he'll never lay a hand on you again, that he'll die before hurting you. You're sitting out here dying, Kakkarot, and what if you're wasting it? What if something happens and you lose him while you're out here hiding from him?"

Bardock's voice shook with the force of his feelings. His son gaped at him, and then suddenly went cold with rage.

"I'm not fucking hiding, you asshole," Kakkarot growled. "I came out here to get us away from him. He's no mate of mine. He's a shitty tyrant fucking our family over, and you're just lapping it up! You think I'm a coward? You know what I did for us, to get us away from him? Of course you don't. The great, loyal Bardock, always making excuses, even after he nearly fucked you to death. You think I'm a coward? You think I really wanted to suicide? I could have done that without any help!"

Kakkarot snapped to his feet suddenly, glowing with power. Bardock's eyes widened as he felt the ki in front of him expand well beyond anything he expected from Kakkarot. With a mental groan at his own blindness, he realized what had been going on before his eyes all this time.

"He'll kill you," Bardock said, his voice numbly calm.

"He'll never lay a hand on me, remember, Otousan? `He'll die before hurting you.' Isn't that what you said? Well, you might just be right for once," Kakkarot said, a kind of manic glee in his voice and eyes.

"You can't kill your own bond-mate, Kakkarot. Even if he hadn't ascended..."

Kakkarot stepped forward and took Bardock's chin in his hand. "I'll be free one way or the other, Otousan. I'm almost twice as strong now as I was before I provoked the bitch. That should be enough to settle it. And there's not one fucking thing you can do about it!"

With that, he sent Bardock flying with one hard fist. Even as he came to a skidding stop amongst the trees, Kakkarot was there to hit him again, this time using a highly precise punch to knock him unconscious. He hadn't wasted any of his time as a Guard. Tsuriya had taught him a great deal, and then let herself be goaded into nearly killing him. And like any saiyajin who'd been in sight of Death, he'd come back stronger than ever.

Grinning ferally, he gathered his father to him and leaped up into a sky streaked with shooting stars. He would leave the older man somewhere safer than here, and then find Vejiita.

He would be free, in this world or in the next. As the dark night air rushed past him, Kakkarot no Misen found that he really didn't care which.

~tbc~