Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Hand Picked ❯ Further Developments ( Chapter 3 )

Hand Picked

By StarbearerTM

 

Disclaimer: I don't' own Raditz, Turles or Dragon Ball Z. Akira Toriyama created it, and it is licensed and owned by Toei Animation Co. Shuisha Bird studios and Shonen Jump. I'm only borrowing them for the use of this fanfiction which means no harm to the owners. I don't make money from this.

 

Further developments

 

Raditz tail quivered despite his efforts to keep it wrapped around his waist. He gripped Turles gauntlets in his own hands, then tried to pull himself up. His legs refused to work right in the presence of the commander.

 

"Please," he whispered. "I can't…"

 

"You can't control yourself?" Turles laughed. He let go of one of Raditz' arms, then tugged him towards the desk.

 

Numbly Raditz stumbled after his commanding officer. With no idea what would happen next, Raditz decided to play along. After all, he felt intimidated by the commander's rank and sizable presence. The last thing Raditz needed was an angry Commander. That small peak of Turles anger a few minutes ago was frightening enough.

 

Turles walked him around the desk, then pulled out the chair. Guiding Raditz in front of it he patted the leather seat. "Sit down," he purred.

 

"Sir?"

 

"I said SIT DOWN," Turles repeated. Raditz flinched at the clipped tone. Then Turles released his hand.

 

"Yes sir," Raditz nodded. Meekly he turned around and lowered himself into the comfortable desk chair. It felt far softer then any chair he'd used before. His bottom sank down nearly an inch into the cushioning. Turles nodded in satisfaction, then swiveled the chair so it faced him directly. Raditz feet sat flush on the floor, his bare knees slightly placed apart on either sides of his groinguard.

 

"Now, what shall we do next," Turles mused. He smirked and tapped his chin again with a long index finger.

 

Raditz tensed each of his muscles and peered around Turles to recheck his possible avenues of escape. Unfortunately he would have to dodge around the desk to get to the front entrance. The only other exit was the passageway leading to the slave alcove. Just why he wanted to run away Raditz didn't know, but he guessed it must be Turles predatory gaze.

 

Turles stepped to within six inches of Raditz, then leaned over. He braced either hand on Raditz bare thighs. Raditz hissed with shock at the feel of rough hands massaging his muscles. All breath and sound deserted him and he froze stark still. His hands gripped the armrests tightly turning his knuckles white.

 

"Sir…" Raditz yelped. His young voice cracked. Suddenly his lips were parched and only the moisture of the wine still sitting on the desk would quench it.

 

Turles blocked the view of the wine with his body, leaning forwards so his nose brushed Raditz. Gasping, Raditz squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep himself from quaking in fear. Hot breath blasted his face, centering on his nose. Then he felt a set of teeth gently clamping down on the tip. Raditz let out a gasp of relief when Turles hands suddenly lifted off his legs.

 

The next moment he heard the rustle of cloth, and the thump of something hitting the floor. Next came Turles hand leaning heavily on his right forearm, and then the warmth of a body being brought near. Finally he felt something heavy straddling his thighs, and he let out a small whimper of fear. Someone grunted in satisfaction, adjusting their body weight so they sat facing him. He could tell from the hands resting on his bare shoulders.

 

Raditz dared to open one of his eyes a bit, and flinched. Turles sat astride him, looking quite pleased with himself. The commander was heavy, but not overly so. Gently Turles rubbed Raditz shoulders, trying to stroke the tension from them. His white cape lay in a wrinkled heap on the floor next to the chair. Now Raditz knew he dared say nothing, because it was clear what would happen next. Inhaling deeply, Raditz squeezed his eyes shut and willed his body to go limp.

 

Turles smiled at the feel of submission. "Very good. You accept the inevitable. There's no escape, you know. But then again, why would you want to?"

 

"I… I'd be a fool to try… sir," Raditz stammered out. Turles reached up and pulled the scouter off his face, then tossed it behind him to land on the desk. Then he grabbed Raditz scouter and tugged it off as well. He let it drop in the folds of his discarded cape.

 

"Yes you would," Turles laughed, sliding his right hand up Raditz shoulder to settle on his angular cheek.

 

Raditz sighed at the suddenly delicacy of Turles caressing his face. Turles slipped his fingers into Raditz hair, then slightly tangled them in the spiky mass. Having Turles sitting in his lap was far from unpleasant Raditz realized. Perhaps he could enjoy this if he gave it a chance. Raditz knew he might as well brace himself and follow to its logical conclusion.

 

"What… do you want of me, sir?" Raditz whispered.

 

"Tell me how you think I should punish you, private," Turles buzzed into his ear. His teeth settled on Raditz sensitive shell, nibbling it but not piercing the skin. Meanwhile he tangled his other hand in Raditz hair. Raditz couldn't stop the purr escaping his lips when he felt Turles massaging his scalp.

 

"Sir…" Raditz whispered, closing his eyes. He let his head rest against the back of the chair, allowing Turles to remove one hand from his hair.

 

Then Turles slid that hand down his left shoulder, continuing down one of Raditz slender arms with soft feathery tickles of his fingers. Goosepimples blistered in the wake of the Commander's expert touch. Everything Turles did exacerbated the itch Raditz suddenly felt all over his body. It was almost identical to the urge he would get seeing a fertile female, or other attractive warriors.

 

"Such hair should be washed and brushed," Turles murmured. "You really have let yourself go, Private."

 

"Forgive me sir. It won't happen again," Raditz found himself saying. He tried to lift his hand to touch Turles but felt his hand slapped away.

 

"No, you're not allowed to touch just yet," said Turles sharply.

 

"Sorry sir,"

 

"You'll pay later. Now, what shall I do first?"

 

"I…" Raditz stammered.

 

"I haven't got all day. Surely you've got more imagination then THAT," Turles scolded, shaking his head.

 

"I… you could… I mean I could… the desk…" Raditz stammered out, afraid of the sudden frown crossing the commander's face. Something about his dark gaze suggested anger.

 

"What was that again?" Turles asked, brushing his fingers over Raditz bare skin again.

 

"I thought… you'd bend me over the desk," Raditz gasped.

 

"Over the desk, then what?"

 

"T…take me from behind…" Raditz stammered out.

 

"Well well, you've got SOME sense of things after all. But that comes MUCH later. How about something ELSE?"

 

"Please Commander, I'm trying to think," Raditz gasped.

 

"Well?" Turles whispered impatiently, blowing in his ear. "You've got an elite warrior sitting on top of you, use your imagination!"

 

"Please sir… you… please let me touch you at least," Raditz begged.

 

"Not yet. You must earn that right," said Turles sharply.

 

"I don't know how. Maybe… I should defer to your… rank and experience instead?" Raditz panted.

 

"I like that. Submissive. This could have possibilities," Turles laughed. Fortunately his face softened from the frown into an amused half smile.

 

"Or… I could… please you," Raditz whispered.

 

"What was that?" Turles asked, raising a graceful brow. He stopped his ministrations, watching Raditz intently.

 

"IF you… sat down here instead… I could… um…" Raditz got out.

 

"Mmm, now you're thinking. But right now it's MY turn," Turles answered. Despite his plan to make Raditz beg, he couldn't resist those dark eyes and lips that had not known the taste of his own gender.

 

Grasping the sides of Raditz head, Turles leaned down and pulled Raditz face to his. Raditz cried out into Turles mouth claiming his own. A forceful dominant kiss worked over Raditz lips, and then probed every square inch of his palate. Keeping his hands to himself, Raditz rolled his head back and caressed Turles tongue with his own. He moved his own lips, returning the forceful kiss. Through the liplock Turles chuckled.

 

"Not bad. You taste quite palatable," Turles answered, nipping at Raditz nose, then his cheeks.

 

Again he turned his head to the side and sealed off Raditz mouth with his own. Sighing Raditz leaned back and yielded to Turles dominant kiss. All over his shoulders and scalp Turles rubbed and kneaded. Their armored chestplates collided with a dull thud, while Turles shifted his weight so he straddled the younger Saiyan's groin.

 

For a time the silence in his office was broken with the soft moans and gasps of the two Saiyans kissing one another hard and deeply. Raditz arm muscles flexed but he kept his hands solidly placed on the armrests. He did not want to anger the commander and deprive himself of the rich taste of the firm strong kisses. They were far more pleasant then any a pleasure slave or any girl was willing to give. In fact, most of the pleasure slaves Freeza had imported didn't kiss mouth to mouth like Saiyans did. Not even the Idsarjin, who simply bumped their noses and nibbled along.

 

Kissing was an evolution of a female chewing up food and feeding it to the male. Still the act of doing so without food showed a far more frivolous but affectionate bond. The taste of red wine lingered on Turles tongue, transferring to Raditz.