Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 10: Consequences ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 10A small smile formed on 17's lips.

The first day of tournament was finally over, but the festival outside was just beginning. The first day was dedicated to the preliminary heats, getting the useless fighters out of the way. The tournament itself would last the rest of the week. During the preliminaries, the general populace was forbidden from observing so they began a street party, which, coincidentally, lasted the full week that the tournament lasted and was celebrated all over the globe and galactic empire. For those interested, the tournament fights would be televised to even the farthest planets under Lord Kakarrot's reign.

On the second day of the tournaments, the first stage would occur. Each stage of the contest would get its own day, with the final day holding only one fight, but the most anticipated. The dark haired android was scheduled for an exhibition fight against his sister, which was to bisect the first stage of the tournament, probably occurring mid-day on the morrow.

But none of that was the reason for the self-satisfied smirk.

He was lying in bed, propped up on a stack of pillows. The walls of his room silenced the noise from the outside revelry, allowing peace to rule. He was in his favored black sleep pants and nothing else. His hair was loose, yet remained remarkably out of his way. And Trunks was with him.

Trunks was in just a pair of pants, the rest of his dingy clothes making a small pile in the corner. He was laying on his side, his head propped up, and his tail curled loosely behind him. He knew he was looking at 17 rather stupidly, but he couldn't help it. He was just so… amazed that 17 wanted him as well as was with him.

It was so strange that 17 had the evening off. Since security was always extremely tight with the tournament, Lord Kakarrot dismissed all the guards guarding the guests. And then Lord Kakarrot retired early to Mistress Bulma's bed chambers, leaving 17 with time on his hands. Time the android gladly spent.

In his room. With Trunks.

"So, I don't think the S'lon warrior is going to survive." 17 sighed, going over some of the heats he had witnessed earlier. "Though, I will say this for Vegeta. He was unusually angry, and put that rage to good use: into the fights. Fights, I might add, that were stacked against him. Unfortunately, winning did nothing to improve his disposition."

"I wonder what he's angry at," Trunks conjectured, moving so that he could rest his head on 17's thigh. "I mean, he's obviously getting stronger. And he's made it to the first stage. You would think he'd be happy."

"I have no idea what is going through his head, Trunks, and quite honestly, I have no interest," 17 said as he stroked his fingers through long lavender strands.

"Well, I'm interested. I was hoping that he and Yamcha might hit it off. After how nice the human was, and going through all that trouble to see Vegeta, you'd think my father would be grateful. Or at least in a good mood. And he was for a while. I think when Lord Kakarrot came back was when father became so sullen. Don't you?" Trunks asked, closing his eyes. His body got goose bumps of pleasure when 17 played with his hair.

"I think… that they are unsure of where they stand with each other," the android replied carefully. His brow furrowed in absent concentration. It took more effort to think when he was like this with Trunks, touching him and simply relaxing. He didn't really want to talk, but he didn't know what else he could do. So, he did his best to analyze the situation as best he could. "They seem to do a great deal of looking at each other, as if they aren't really sure who or what to make of the other person, or if they know something that the other doesn't. Like a secret that doesn't please them, and they each know a different secret."

"Huh," Trunks said, letting that roll through his mind. Then he grinned. "Maybe. I dunno. I -DO- know that Piccolo sure impressed a lot of people today. I mean, wow! He went through his opponents like a laser-blade through tofu!"

"Yes. I had a few sparring sessions with him before the preliminaries. He's quite good. I think he will have no trouble with the tournament itself, and I do believe that he has a good shot of winning. Heh. A great many spectators formed around the areas where he was fighting," 17 agreed, his grin mirroring that of the younger man in his lap. "And did you see the look of outright astonishment on Prince Gohan's face?! That was so priceless! I think the princes are beginning to understand that Piccolo is a bit more than they had thought at first. And when the final bout comes, I do believe that Piccolo will be triumphant."

"No, I didn't get to see that. I was hiding on the other side of the stadium. I did, however, see the smug look on Prince Goten's face. And I also noticed that no matter where Piccolo was, Prince Goten was close by as well, but not too close, unless there was a match that he was in. You know, I think he already knows that Piccolo is more than what he seems. As for winning, well, there is still Prince Gohan to face, and he'll do everything he can to win." Trunks sighed, stretching languidly, causing even his tail to pop and crack. "I'll never forget that stupid Karinian announcer as he made the comment about how Piccolo's longest bout lasted a whole minute."

"You heard that?" 17 asked, surprised. The comment hadn't been broadcasted.

"Well, yeah," Trunks grinned. "I have my ways."

"I'm sure you do," 17 replied, still grinning.

Looking up at the android, Trunks appeared pensive for a moment. "Do you think he's changed? Goten, I mean. What do you think?"

The raven-headed male brushed a fair lock of hair away from the demi-saiyajin's eyes. "It's possible," he stated. "I think he's changing. I've heard things... whispered about in the palace, as I'm sure you have. They say that sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, they can catch him daydreaming. Yet, when it comes to his work, he's still as ruthless as ever."

"It's Piccolo," Trunks nodded swiftly. "I'm absolutely positive that Goten is in love with him."

"Yes, I suppose," conceded the other man. "He does look at him a certain way."

"Do you think he's in love with him?"

"Lord Piccolo is a strong, intelligent man. His mere presence commands respect," 17 pointed out. "If Prince Goten ever were to fall in love, it would only be with someone such as him."

Trunks toyed with the hem of the android's pants as he asked, "Do you--do you think Piccolo would ever love him back?"

"For Prince Goten's sake, I hope so," sighed 17.

"Say, 17," the lavender-haired youth said, a small sly smile creeping onto his face. "They spent the night together a few weeks ago, didn't they? Piccolo and Goten. That night we first..." Trunks trailed off with an intense blush. When the android nodded his head, the demi-saiyajin continued. "Did they...? Could you tell if they...? I was just wondering..."

"They didn't have sexual intercourse," he answered. "I don't think either of them are whorish enough to do something like that so soon."

"17?" Trunks began, a slight frown appearing.

"Yes?" the dark-haired android asked, still running his hands through Trunks' hair.

"Do you think I'm a whore?"

"What!?!" 17 asked, completely taken off guard. His wide eyes blinked in startled confusion at the worried gaze directed at him.

"I mean, I know my mom's a whore and all, and I know that a lot of people have slept with me--" Trunks began, sitting up. His cheeks were red with shame. He knew he wasn't respectable or anything. In fact, he knew he wasn't anything, really. He was nothing. And he didn't want to be nothing. But he also didn't want to be a whore. He was about to go on and state his case, but a hand pressed over his mouth stopped him.

The dark haired male rested his hand over Trunks' mouth until he was able to think of how to respond to that question. It was just so… wrong! When he realized that his thoughts were only going in circles, he shifted his hand so that he was able to brush his thumb across worried lips. "Trunks. I know for a fact that you are NOT a whore. Your mother is the royal concubine, not a whore, either. You are the son of the true Prince of Saiyajins. Your mother is Mistress Bulma. Either way you look at it, you are a product of very good breeding. Next, you have not slept with a lot of people. I know this. You have been RAPED by a lot of people. There is a difference. You are their victim, not their lover."

Trunks accepted what 17 said mutely, his mind too focused on the caress of thumb over lips. He pulled his head back slightly, so that he might retort, but he discovered he was unable to meet 17's eyes. He whispered, "Well. Okay. But… If I'm not a whore, then how come all I can think about is that night? How come I get… How come I get hard just thinking about how you kissed me? And touched me? If I'm not a whore, then how come I feel like one?"

"You do?" 17 smiled. He wanted to throw his head back and laugh with joy at the admission, but he knew that would just scare Trunks away. Instead, he brushed his hands through long lavender hair and pulled Trunks close. He closed his eyes as he brushed his lips against the already parted demi-saiyajin's lips. And then the kiss was sealed, and 17 allowed himself to sink into the moment, trying to savor it. He had no need for food. He really didn't need to breath. But this… this he needed. He had wanted this since that night, but due to his schedule, and the influx of people into the area, he and Trunks were not able to see each other.

Trunks moved so that he was straddling 17's lap, trying to get as close as he could to the other male. They kissed as if trying to taste each other's very essence. Trunks was dizzy when 17 pulled him away, though he was loathe to break the kiss. His tail snapped through the air as 17 moved to kiss his throat, making him shiver with pleasure. He was aching with need, but he didn't want to dissuade 17 from what he was doing. His hands buried in raven black hair, trying to anchor him in reality. "17?"

"You aren't a whore, Trunks," 17 whispered into the younger male's ear, his hands rubbing over as much flesh as he could touch. "No more than I am. I've thought about that night a great deal. Gods, you have no idea how much. And I have the ability to replay that event in digital clarity. You… Gods, you're beautiful. I'm very, very pleased that you enjoy kissing me because I love kissing you. Tasting you. Touching you."

"You do?" Trunks shuddered at the words, becoming intoxicated from the sensations coursing through him. He laid his head down on 17's shoulder, and then proceeded to nuzzle the android's neck. "Then… will you touch me? I mean, touch me like I did that night?"

17 stilled as the words hit him. He pulled back a bit, gazing with blue, wonder filled eyes at the youth. "Do you really want me to?"

"Yes," Trunks nodded. "Oh, yes. I want you to touch me everywhere."

"You… enjoy my touching as well as my kisses?" 17 asked softly. This was all so strange. Simply too good to be true. "Even though I'm not organic?"

"I do. I love how you feel, and how you make me feel," Trunks said as he blushed.

17 nearly crowed. Instead, he grinned before he leaned down and captured Trunks' mouth for another feast. He was so ecstatic, so filled with pleasure and joy at his lover's confession that he was near overloading. With the younger male's help, he removed unnecessary pants. Gently, he laid the hybrid on his back, keeping the kiss. He wanted to do this right. He wanted this to be good for Trunks. He wanted to return at least half the rapture he felt.

Trunks moaned into the kiss as he felt a strong hand cup him. His hips pushed further into the loose caress, demanding more attention. He was left gasping as 17 broke the kiss to scatter hot, open mouth kisses all over his porcelain white skin. His body bucked and writhed and demanded more. 17 gave him everything he wanted. And then some.

"Trunks?" 17 asked, his voice soft with something that remained unsaid. He didn't know how he was going to please Trunks. He wanted to, but his own unvoiced concerns made him cautious. He didn't trust himself, not completely. He was so afraid of losing control with Trunks, so very afraid of hurting him.

"Yes?" Trunks replied, tossing his head back as the hand gripping him tightened.

"I want to taste you," 17 said. It was the only thing he could think of, the one thought that chased itself around and around his head. The desire to taste, to savor, the younger male. He had only seen it performed on others, never having taken part in the act himself. But he thought he understood how to do it. "May I?"

Thinking that 17 was asking for another kiss, Trunks was hard-pressed, no pun intended, to deny the darker male. "Oh, gods yes."

Trunks nearly screamed in shock and pleasure as he felt a hot tongue swipe across the tip of his sex. His world disappeared behind a glaze of white and light. He had been forced to perform this act on others, taking their engorged members into his mouth while they moved to choke and hurt him. But this was the first time such an act was performed on him. And it felt good. The lavender haired male gritted his teeth in pleasure as 17 nipped at his sex, scraping his teeth against sensitive skin. The android used his teeth, tongue, and mouth, and Trunks was beside himself with pleasure. His moans filled the room, shattered only by startled cries that the darker male would sometimes bring about.

The synthetic male raised himself up slightly, a light smirk brushing across his features as he caught Trunks' glazed eyes. Blue eyes met blue. But not for long. 17 lowered his head, flicking his tongue to lap up the liquid already spilling forth. Trunks gasped, his hands clenching into fists filled with dark, raven hair. Blue eyes danced with evil delight as 17 slid his tongue down slightly, kissing with his lips the very tip of Trunks' sex. Wide eyes watched in amazement as 17 began to slide even further down. And then Trunks let his head fall back as 17's hot mouth took him in completely.

"17?" Trunks asked, a slight hitch in his voice that made it sound like he was going through puberty all over again. His tail wrapped around 17's head like a furry crown.

"Hmmm?" the android responded, not giving up his prize as easily as that. He was too pleased with himself to forfeit. The attempt at vocalization caused 17's throat to vibrate, which in turn caused the most delicious sensation to dance through Trunks.

"Oh, gods. I gotta remember how to breathe…" Trunks groaned. "Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe. Right? Breathing is good."

17 couldn't help the dark chuckle that demanded release, but the laugh nearly caused him to choke. For revenge, he took up the younger man's breathing rhythm as his own. Each breath was his cue to move, and it was all he could do not to laugh as Trunks began to move with him, demanding each gesture before it was given. The demi-saiyajin was soon whimpering in need, which was music to the guard's ears. The lavender tail about the guard's head slipped down to simply curl over 17's bare back.

Trunks couldn't quite believe what was occurring. If it was a dream, it was one from which he hoped never to awake. But as 17 continued to move over him, his mouth suckling him as if he were a rare dessert, he knew the dream was going to end. He could feel something beginning to claw through him, demanding freedom. And 17's movements were pulling it forth from wherever it had hidden previously. Before he knew what was really happening, Trunks felt his entire body shatter and turn liquid, spilling into 17's hungry mouth.Afterwards, when he was more aware of the world at large, he could only try to relearn how to breathe properly. He found that he was pressed against 17's body, the blankets around them. He snuggled closer, feeling 17's arousal pressed against him again. "When are you going to… take your pleasure?"

"Later," 17 murmured. "I'll take it later. For now, let us rest. I have a match tomorrow. We need our sleep."

"Heh. You don't need sleep, and I damn well know it," Trunks yawned. He raised his head, and kissed 17 again, tasting what remained of his spilt seed in 17's mouth, but not on the android's lips. It was as if the synthetic man had devoured every drop he could.

When the kiss broke, 17 smiled slyly at his lover. "True enough. But I get to hold you all night long as -YOU- sleep. So, I think it's a good deal all the same."

Trunks ducked his head, but not so that 17 was unable to see him blush with pleasure. With a deep sigh of contentment, Trunks relaxed against the other male, allowing his body to mold to fit against the android. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought sleepily of how it just seem right to be where he was right then.

***

The bedroom was dark and silent except for the snoring of Lord Kakarrot. Bulma lay next to him, curled up on her side, her eyes open and tired but not sleepy. She could still hear the raucous party raging in the palace though she and the emperor had decided to retire far earlier than usual. Ever since he'd come back from his purging 'vacation', the royal had been far more amorous at night. 'Hornier than a sixteen-year-old is more like it,' she thought to herself.

She hated Lord Kakarrot. Hated him for destroying her planet, for turning her into a common whore. She'd been someone once! She'd been a scientist's daughter and budding scientist herself! She'd always been so smart. Sighing, she tucked a strand of blue hair behind her ear. 'But I wasn't smart enough to avoid this, was I?'

Lord Kakarrot snored even louder for a brief moment then went back to his normally annoying snore. His brown tail wrapped around her small waist, pulling her closer to him somewhat. Bulma considered this man for a moment. He claimed to love her, swore she was the most wonderful and beautiful thing he'd ever beheld. And in the darkest corner of her heart, she believed him. Sometimes, he would be so tender and gentle with her; he would actually make love to her rather than roughly take her like a wild animal. She hated to admit it, but she sometimes liked it when they made love. It made her feel appreciated. However, those lovemaking sessions were rare, as Kakarrot was far more content to just have his way with her and be done with it. That never failed to remind her how much she did, in fact, hate him.

And his sons. She hated them too. Gohan was terrible. Lord Kakarrot had allowed him to have her once many years ago, and the boy was a brute. He was so rough and forceful that she even preferred his bastard father to him. Bulma knew of how awful he was to everyone, but Kakarrot seemed to approve of his son's hateful ways. Not that she'd ever bothered to ask the emperor. And up until a few months ago, she'd hated his younger son, Goten, too.

A light frown marred her otherwise flawless features. Trunks had said the younger prince had changed, and if she hadn't seen some evidence of that herself, she might not have been inclined to believe it. For one thing, he hadn't laid a finger on her lavender-haired son for months. And Trunks was Goten's favorite torture victim! Except for lately, she hadn't seen Trunks go by a single week since he was very small without having been tormented by the dark-haired demi-saiyajin.

Bulma smirked a little when an odd memory presented itself once again in her mind. Prince Goten was sixteen years old, and his father had brought him to Bulma's room. Lord Kakarrot had intended his precious Bulma to be his younger son's first, since the youth had not been inclined to even so much as look at another soul sexually. But Goten had refused... adamantly refused. He was so livid that his father could even suggest such a thing that he actually got into a physical fight with the much larger and much stronger man. Goten had, of course, lost in the end, but Kakarrot didn't force him to bed the blue-haired human. They'd all decided Goten was just asexual, with no interest in physical pleasures. Bulma had a theory though, back then, that the youngest demi-saiyajin preferred males, and once Lord Piccolo had arrived on the scene, she'd found out her hypothesis was true.

She'd been there the previous month at the party for Lord Kakarrot's return, and she'd watched the young prince with the green man very carefully. The way he acted, he looks he gave him, the smiles... Bulma had never even known Goten could smile in any other way than out of spite or malice. And he'd laughed! It was shocking to not only her but everyone else still remaining at the party. His laugh was an oddly delightful sound, and it was brought about by the most unlikely of people, a tall, green stranger. 'That Piccolo must be some classy guy,' she surmised.

How could he have accomplished what he did? What could he have said or done to the youngest demi-saiyajin to make him change? 'Maybe Goten really is in love with him,' Bulma supposed. 'Who would've ever thought that he'd be so susceptible to love? Gohan and Kakarrot certainly aren't. Not that anyone could ever love either of them. I wonder if Piccolo will love Goten back. Gods, I hope so. If he can be turned around and away from the evil of the rest of his family, that's more than anyone could possibly imagine.' She was suddenly very grateful for the arrival of the green man into their world.

She tried to picture his face again, one she hadn't seen often enough to memorize, and once she had it focused clearly in her head, it slowly melted away into a different visage. The intense grass green faded into a soft aqua. The sharp angles shifted into smoother, more delicate plains. And his dark eyes alit into bright gold. Bulma sighed, realizing she was picturing her strong, quiet guard, Zarbon. Oh, how she wished he were lying in bed next to her instead of this royal lout!

Zarbon had been there for her for so many years, even before Trunks was born, but not too long before that. He'd always been so quiet, never spoke more than a few words when she'd demanded something. Doing everything she asked, the green-haired guard never once complained about her mistreatment, only eagerly performed each task she requested of him. It took several years before she would admit to herself that he was a beautiful man. It took even longer for her to realize that he loved her, and longer still that she loved him in return. His strength and loyalty were something she'd come to depend on. He knew her.

And loved her.

But they never spoke of it, and it wasn't meant to be. Bulma was the chosen whore of the great Lord Kakarrot, ruler supreme of the Galactic Empire. And Zarbon was her personal guard, loyal to her, but loyal to the emperor first and foremost. Decades they'd spent together, and perhaps decades more, but their love would stay locked away, never seeing the light of day or the beauty of being expressed.

Why did things have to be like that? She cursed Lord Kakarrot's existence. If it weren't for him, she could be with a man she loved. She could truly live. On the other side of that coin, however, if the emperor had never come to her world, she would never have known Zarbon. She would never have known his lovely face, his kindness, his love. But at least she wouldn't know a life that was devoid of it. That was the thing about missing an opportunity you never knew existed. Ignorance was, indeed, bliss.

It was the ultimate contradiction for Bulma. Because of Lord Kakarrot, she was a whore. Because of that, she'd known Zarbon and his love. And because of Lord Kakarrot, she'd been forced to sleep with several other people. Because of that, she'd received the greatest gift she'd ever known, her son Trunks. And for him alone, she could not fully condemn her sorry lot in life. Trunks was a true bright spot in her dismal existence. Bulma loved her son with her entire soul. Gritting her teeth, she wondered if it was selfish of her to want to keep Trunks around. Kakarrot had allowed her to keep her lavender-haired son but also allowed anyone and everyone to do whatever they wished with the boy. The poor soul had been beaten, tortured, raped, and more, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. Tears warmed behind her eyes as she remembered the very last time he'd been attacked in such a manner.

She'd heard about it long after it happened, of course. Such bizarre events surrounded it that Bulma could scarcely believe their occurrences. That Trunks had been brutalized and raped she could believe, regardless of how it pained her to hear of it. However, she was shocked to silence when her son had told her that Prince Goten, of all people, was the one to find him and had sent 17 to care for him while the prince himself stood at guard for Piccolo in the android's stead. For Trunks, the events of that night had been fuzzy, but he'd been able to fill in the pieces after talking with 17.

Bulma thanked any deity that would listen for the android's existence. She knew he took care of Trunks as best as he could without coming under suspicion by Lord Kakarrot. Whereas she could not take care of Trunks as often as she liked nor protect him in any way, at least 17 was able to do so to some extent. And ever since the last Bulma had heard of 17 and his caring ways, she'd scarcely seen hide nor hair of her son. It was her greatest hope that he was spending all of that time with 17; she suspected and expected as much. 'I wonder if Trunks knows how much 17 loves him,' Bulma mused. It was glaringly obvious to her that the android cared very deeply for her son, but Trunks wasn't used to that sort of thing. Would he know?

Strangely enough, didn't that apply to all of them? Love was such an obscure concept to them all. It seemed 17 knew, deep down, how to love. That clearly came out towards Trunks. And Zarbon knew. She felt that every day. Lord Kakarrot's only brush with the emotion was towards Bulma, but it didn't affect him, really. And as for Gohan, Bulma didn't see any chance for him to ever become familiar with the concept. Yet, there was a chance for Goten, who appeared receptive to love. It was odd that he, the seemingly most cold-hearted of that family, would be the one to open his heart. Again, she wondered if Piccolo would be able to return that love. It was a true gift, if ever there was one, to be granted the love of someone who'd known nothing of it beforehand.

Bulma thought back to the night of Lord Kakarrot's homecoming once more, where she'd finally been able to put faces to names and witness things for herself about which she'd only heard. Goten's changing, the Demon Lord Piccolo, his companions... A frown crossed her face again as she recalled the two humans accompanying Piccolo. The short one was all smiles, a rarity on their planet. He seemed to be content just conversing with Yamcha.

Yamcha... 'He was awfully handsome, wasn't he?' Bulma sighed. Trunks had said that he was very nice and understanding while the demi-saiyajin had been assisting him in seeing Vegeta. In one of his late night confessions, her son had said he thought Yamcha liked Vegeta too much to just be seeing a friend, and she had to concur. 'It was so cute how he blushed every time he looked at Vegeta. And the way they stood close together and all the little sneaked looks... It was like something straight out of a romance novel!" She realized that the short saiyajin must be very attached to Yamcha, for she'd never known him to stand so near anyone nor to act so protectively.

The blue-haired woman had known, of course, and was not phased by the fact that the once prince of the saiyajin indeed had an affinity for other males. When they'd been forced to have sex, she recalled how difficult it was to keep him physically interested, having to do 90% of the work herself; neither of their hearts could have ever been in it anyway. But she'd also known that if they hadn't gone through with it, it would have been death or worse for both of them. The only good thing, and it was a completely wonderful thing, that came of that wretched act was Trunks. Sadly, the boy never was able to get to know the man who'd helped create him. Vegeta was as closed off to him as he was the rest of the world. And yet, somehow, this human male Yamcha had managed to break through a bit. 'What is it about these strangers? They've gotten to everyone!'

Suddenly, her eyelids felt as if they weighed a ton and closed on her. Behind her closed eyes, she was at the party again, watching Vegeta and Yamcha be so close but so far. It was sad, but hopeful. And she was hopeful for them. 'I hope they can make it. Someone deserves happiness around here. May as well be them. Gods, I hope there's a chance for us all.'

***

18 stalked through the crowds of people in the main hall. Normally, she would've -loved- it, as she did every other tournament celebration. There were tons of males to take advantage of sexually, but she was only interested in finding one particular male. 'Where is that little bastard?!' she wondered. If the blonde android had known how it was going to affect her afterwards, she never would've jumped Krillin.

He'd done things to her, made her feel things she'd never felt. Sex had always been a source of power for her. She had not ever really physically felt anything; she'd just gotten off on the control and dominance over her partner. But the short human had found places to touch her, had done things she didn't even know she liked. Gods, she wanted it again. It was almost like a drug. And with the first dose, she was hooked.

But Krillin hadn't touched her since. In fact, if she didn't even think he remembered that night. He acted like it never happened! The memory fueled her forward. She was going to have someone that night, preferably anyone short and muscular, species unimportant. She scanned the crowd, trying to find the perfect prey for the night. Someone who would meet her requirements. Finally, glacial eyes found someone who would do. "You," she said to the orange-skinned Jeice. "Are you up for me?"

Jeice raised both of his eyebrows and backed slightly into Burter. "Um, you know I don't sleep with anyone else, don't you, 18?" he pointed out, jerking his head towards the amphibian-like male behind him. He could feel Burter taking on a rather defensive stance behind him, could almost feel his lover's jealousy. It was rather nice to know that he was worth fighting over, but he knew for a fact that 18 could kick both their asses without so much as messing up her hair.

"Oh, yeah," she answered, making a sour face before continuing through the crowd. "Freaks."

"Bitch," Burter murmured, once the android was out of hearing distance. He placed a reassuring hand on his companion's shoulder. "Wonder what jumped up her ass and died. She upset you?"

"Not really," Jeice replied, leaning back. "But that's a deadly lady, mate."

"She's no lady," the tall blue male snorted. He watched her sashay into the overly large crowd, while wishing that he and Jeice were away from the noise and chaos that was the annual party. While he didn't mind a good party, this was a bit overly gaudy for his tastes. Much like some people he could name. "Women are overrated anyway."

Jeice smirked up at Burter then immediately bowed, pulling the other man with him, as Prince Gohan made his way past them. The royal didn't even acknowledge them before he disappeared into the crowd, but Jeice's eyes stayed pointed in the direction he'd gone. He knew that Burter turned away, trying to grab another drink from a server, but Jeice was too busy wondering about the prince. They'd seen him pass by several times, always cursing under his breath and becoming increasingly agitated. It was as if he was chasing someone, someone who kept eluding him at every turn. But who could elude the Golden Prince? Who would want to tempt fate like that?

Gohan was seething. He had been through most of the palace and the surrounding grounds, trying to find Lord Piccolo. He had never worked this hard at anything, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. What did that green god want to do? Make him beg? Out of turn? Gohan gritted his teeth in vexation. He was so not in the party mood. Marching up steps to a veranda that overlooked the gathered crowd, Gohan found Vegeta already there. Normally, the prince would love to torment the older man; pulling his tail, hassling him, harassing him, touching him, watching the other male squirm. But Gohan wasn't in the mood even for that bit of pleasant pastime. He wanted to find Piccolo. He wanted to demand his princely rights by the other male.

It was probably all the wine he had been drinking talking, but Gohan was willing to go with the flow of the alcohol, rather than try to fight it. Besides, he rather thought Piccolo would be flattered at the idea of bedding him. That was what was going to happen, after all. Shaking his head, he approached Vegeta, almost giggling at the sight of Vegeta in rose, as seen through his scouter. He always did think the elder warrior looked good in pink. "Vegeta!"

The short saiyajin spun around, his face immediately blanking at the sound of the heir's voice. He dropped to one knee, his head lowered in submission. "Yes, milord."

"Have you seen Piccolo?"

Vegeta blinked a few times, mindful to keep his gaze lowered. His dark brow furrowed in thought, though he was quick with his answer. "No, milord. Not since the preliminary rounds were completed."

"Very well then," Gohan groused. He spun around, intent on leaving. His tail snapped through the air, signaling exactly how annoyed he was. It was odd that he wasn't getting immediate results. Very odd. And very annoying.Vegeta raised his eyes to watch the prince leave. When the whelp was out of sight, he returned to his vigil. He shook with sudden chills. That was the first time in a long time he had outright lied to the Golden Prince. He had seen Piccolo not two hours prior, walking away from the party, more towards the inner bowels of the palace, and to a garden of which he had heard talk. With Prince Goten. Vegeta knew he wasn't a genius by any stretch of the word, but he did have a keen sense of self-preservation at times. He knew that Prince Gohan would have killed him on the spot if he had admitted to seeing the green warrior with the Royal Inquisitor. Especially since he knew that they were dodging the royal heir. And it wasn't for anything treasonous. More like amorous. At least, he thought so. Granted, there was no proof, but he rather thought that the prince and strange green male were going off to 'celebrate' their admittance into the tournament in their own fashion. Prince Goten was probably more loyal than even Prince Gohan was, so he doubted the younger son would even attempt at traitorous activities.

Out across the great sea of people and creatures, Vegeta spotted his own prey easily. Yamcha. Just looking at the human made things ache and break inside the tailed warrior. Questions rolled through his head, and he wasn't sure he wanted the answers to them. He had done everything in his limited power to show Yamcha how much he wanted… It didn't matter though. Whenever the human saw him, all he was really seeing was the other Vegeta, the Vegeta from his realm.

But the once royal knew he could get revenge on the human, hurt him. It may not be an equal amount of pain, because physical pain was something that was usually easier to deal with than emotional pain, but Vegeta figured it was all that he was going to be able to do. He didn't have a way to hurt Yamcha's heart. Not like the human hurt his. He already had things in place. All he had to do was wait.

Saiyajins were hunters. They knew the value of patience. Vegeta knew he could wait for his opportunity.

That opportunity was not long in coming. From his vantage point, Vegeta could watch in almost secrecy as Yamcha's smile faded. It was obvious that his ex-charge was not enjoying himself. Vegeta grinned with an evil glint. Too bad for the human that the night was -not- going to improve. He watched with glittering eyes as Yamcha began to make his way to the exit. The tailed warrior moved quickly, not wanting to lose his prey to the vast crowd, knowing that if he did so, his chance for retribution that night was not going to occur.

As a natural predator, Vegeta had a natural liquid grace. Added to his shorter stature and lithe form, he could move as easily as a shadow through the crowd. But he knew he had to stay some distance behind his object, not wanting to alert the human. The hallways and corridors held more creatures than usual, but that was not uncommon for this time of year. They were Vegeta's camouflage as he stalked forward.

Yamcha glanced around the hallway as he stepped into his room, but it wasn't until the doors shut that he realized he had a follower. Turning around, he came face to face with Vegeta, who was locking the doors behind him. "Vegeta! What are you doing here?"

"You'll see soon enough," the shorter male replied, his tail uncurling to snap at the air. With a harsh mental command, he forced it into what he hoped looked like a casual curl behind him. "I'm here to call in my marker."

"Your… marker?" Yamcha said slowly, his expression showing his confusion.

"The first day here, you told me of how you and yours are from an alternate dimension. I do believe that if I told Lord Kakarrot, he would be highly interested. Yet another place to conquer and rule. Or at least destroy," Vegeta said, stepping forward. He smirked as Yamcha took an involuntary step back. "I told you I would keep your secret… for a price."

"You said you wanted my cooperation in whatever you requested. Reasonable requests," Yamcha replied, remembering. "You haven't made any requests."

Vegeta grinned, and there was only menace there. "I'm making my requests now."

Yamcha shivered in dread. Where was the man he had come to know? Where was the one who was good and kind and considerate? The one with whom he had fallen in love? "What do you want, Vegeta?"

"Your silence," Vegeta said harshly, his tail dropping from its high curl to a lower one. "I want your silence for the rest of the night. And should you make any sounds or protests, then I'll have your silence for tomorrow night."

Still not understanding the depth of danger he was in, Yamcha agreed even with the warning bells ringing in his head. His anxiety increased when Vegeta started to peel out of some of his clothes. He felt as if the entire desert was in his mouth as inch by intimidating inch of Vegeta's bare skin was revealed, which was odd considering he'd seen Vegeta in only a pair of shorts before. In fact, he had slept with the shorter male in a bare minimum of clothes. But this was something different.

Yamcha was so engrossed by the frightening strip tease that he completely missed Vegeta's first real move. He felt it, though, as he crashed into the far wall, his jaw aching from the saiyajin's uppercut. He shook it off, and was about to regain his feet, but Vegeta's boot to his throat stopped him. He grabbed the sole of the shoe and pushed it only so far that he could breathe, keeping it pressed against him so that Vegeta might think he had the upper hand.

"You do realize that I now know even more about you, correct?" Vegeta said, keeping his voice level. He kept control over his voice, knowing that if he lost control of that he'd lose control over everything.

Yamcha held the boot off his throat, but did not defend himself. He didn't want to do anything that would throw Vegeta off. Instead, he waited for the aggressive male to continue.

"I remember what you said about my alter. How he's vicious. And cruel. And arrogant," Vegeta hissed. He removed his boot from Yamcha's hands, from the human's throat. "I remember you saying how you thought things were different here."

Yamcha simply looked at the other male from where he remained sprawled on the ground. He didn't understand! What had happened? Why was Vegeta acting this way? The object of his thoughts picked him up by the collar and threw him back against the wall. He hit his head hard, a sharp ache running throughout his skull. He hissed in pain, but did not cry out.

"You said you wanted to be his friend. You keep comparing me to him. So, I'll be exactly like him. I'll be just like your 'Prince' Vegeta!" Vegeta rasped as he leered at the human, his eyes as cold as he could make them. He was beyond enraged. Beyond livid. He was so close to the edge that all he would have to do was lean, and he'd have fallen in. Spinning, he easily tossed the obedient human away, watching as he bounced from the bed and landed on the floor. 'I will make you hate me.' "And you can live out your fantasy just as I live out… Mine."

'Oh, Kami,' Yamcha thought, seizing up suddenly. 'Oh, Kami, he knows. Vegeta -knows-.' Anxiety, fear, embarrassment, horror, shame. They all sped through Yamcha's veins more swiftly than the most dangerous narcotic. He thought he'd done so well to hide that little-known fact, that before he'd come here, he'd been madly crushing on the saiyajin prince from his world. 'Apparently not. Shit!' The human didn't know how Vegeta had figured it out, but he had. And he wasn't responding well to it. This Vegeta thought he was a replacement! A placeholder! Hadn't he figured out along the way that Yamcha was in love with -him- and -not- the Vegeta from his world?

Yamcha picked himself up off the ground, finally becoming angry. But it was no use, as Vegeta approached him again in that stalking manner that scared him. The scarred human backed up a few steps, catching himself just before he ran into the wall. He tilted his head to the side, silently asking questions he knew he didn't have words for even if he had been permitted to speak."Strip," Vegeta snarled, grinning demonically as he tested how far he could actually push the human. He knew Yamcha was strong, just by the way he reacted to the boot at his throat. The taller male had easily held his foot in place, as if he weren't concerned with Vegeta's threat of physical violence.

Yamcha flushed dark red, partly in embarrassment, partly in anger. He looked at the ground as he gritted his teeth. Could he do this? Could he strip and then stand naked, not nude but naked, in front of Vegeta? Glancing up, he saw the determination, the outright ferocity in Vegeta's eyes, and knew that this was one battle he didn't want to fight.

Vegeta's tail snapped through the air, still low behind him, as Yamcha slowly began to peel out of his layers of clothes. He grew dizzy from his inability to breathe properly. His body tightened with arousal, growing heavy and hard. He was going to do this. He was actually going to do this! Dark eyes never slowed down in their silent appraisal as Yamcha performed his agonizingly slow strip show. And then, finally, it was over, and Vegeta could only force himself to stand there and NOT go over to touch the scarred warrior.

Yamcha had his gaze directed at Vegeta's feet. He could feel his cheeks heat with a dark blush, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help his all-body shiver, either. It wasn't from fear or cold, or maybe it was. He was also partially aroused, which only added to his discomfiture. How could this be happening? And more importantly, -why-? It wasn't right. It was going way too wrong way too fast. Vegeta was supposed to be kind and loving. He wasn't supposed to be the other Vegeta. Yamcha felt the tears pricking behind his eyes, but he blinked them away before the saiyajin could even notice. Why didn't Vegeta realize that he wanted -him-? Shame crept under the human's blush.

Vegeta concentrated on breathing. He was grateful that Yamcha wasn't looking at him. He doubted he'd be able to do as he intended if the other was actually looking at him. Licking his lips, he steeled his nerves for what he was about to demand. He wanted Yamcha. The ache in his body was evidence enough, but the fact that his heart was in his throat and breaking all over again was even more proof.

"On your knees."

Yamcha's eyes grew large at the command. He glanced up to look at Vegeta but was rewarded with his ears being cuffed.

"Don't look at me!" Vegeta cried out. He waited until Yamcha nodded his head and as graceful as he could, knelt to his knees. The once prince kicked his boots away, letting them land where they would. Cautiously, fighting the trembling in his hands, the saiyajin undid his pants and let them fall to the floor. He used his tail to flick the offending garments to the side, as if they were trash. And then, he stood, fully erect, in front of the human. "And if you bite me, so help me, you'll learn an entirely NEW definition of the word 'pain'."

Yamcha nodded his head, his eyes downcast. He began to breathe harder, his entire body shaking. He was scared. And worried. And anxious. He licked his lips out of nervousness. He had never done this before. Granted, he had received, but he had never given. 'It's not supposed to be like this. It's supposed to be good. It's not supposed to be... -this-.' Raising his hands, he delicately placed them on the saiyajin's hips. When he wasn't pushed away, he leaned forward and flicked his tongue across the tip of Vegeta's sex. He felt a furry tail caress his bare back before moving to encircle his head, pushing him forward.

Vegeta had expected the other male to simply try to slake his lust as best he could. He expected Yamcha to simply take him into his hot mouth and suck him dry. That was what he expected. That was not what he got.

Yamcha slid his tongue across Vegeta's shaft, letting it stretch as far under and around as it could go. He was conscious of Vegeta's startled gasps, and it fueled him on. He used his tongue as if he were licking a lollipop or candy, scraping his teeth along aggravated skin. His body demanded he look upward, wanting to see the look on Vegeta's face, but he didn't want the other to be angrier than he already was. Releasing one hand from where it rested on the saiyajin's side, he cupped the prince's heavy round spheres.

Vegeta was suddenly regretting the fact that he wasn't standing up next to something, something like a wall or door or anything that would allow him to lean against it. He thought his knees were about to give out, and he couldn't have that. But he didn't want to stop what Yamcha was doing either. He refused to look down at the human, but it was taking more effort than he thought he had to keep that resolve. In a last ditch effort, he closed his eyes. It didn't work as well as he hoped because right at that moment, Yamcha took him into his mouth. All. The. Way.

Yamcha could taste the fine trembling that coursed through the shorter male. Hands fisted into his dark hair and kept him right where he was, though he could easily break the hold. What kept him there was the soft feel of the tip of a brown tail that continuously rubbed against his back, as if offering some form of assuagement of its own. He had always thought that this sexual act was something that he'd never be able to perform, but as he sat there, his mouth full, he found that he didn't mind it so much. He was able to control his gag reflex better than he had originally thought. And he had also discovered that Vegeta's skin tasted rather good.

When Vegeta actually got air into his lungs, his exhalation was a deep moan of pleasure. As if that sound was all the signal his body needed, he began to move, thrusting into the heat of Yamcha's mouth. He took an involuntary step forward, trying to get as close to the deliciousness of it as he could, but there wasn't room to take that final step forward. Yamcha caught his leg, throwing it over his shoulder even as he continued to accept Vegeta's thrusts. That pose lasted for too short a time, as the shorter male found himself too off balance to retain it. His tail fled behind him as he tried to keep standing, but he stumbled backwards anyway. He landed with a grunt, against the bed, Yamcha still enveloping him.

Yamcha had never been very good at moving on his knees, so he was very thankful to whatever deity was out there that was getting their kicks from watching his plight that he at least didn't bite down as Vegeta dragged him across the floor. When his prince was still again, he began to move. His head bobbed up and down as he repeatedly deep throated the other male, taking some slight revenge in the fact that Vegeta wasn't remaining unaffected by his actions.

Vegeta was about to climax. He knew it. He wanted it. But he also wanted more. With a cry of frustration, more at himself than meant for the other, he pushed Yamcha away. Yamcha fell backwards, landing on his hands, but Vegeta was already up and moving, going to where his cot still laid. Reaching under the pillow, the agitated and aroused man pulled forth a palm-sized vial. "You are not getting off that easy. Get on the bed. On your stomach."

Vegeta's tail snaked through the air, dancing, as he turned around. Yamcha was already on the bed, on top of the covers. And that's when the prince hesitated. How was he going to go through with this? His body told him that he'd be able to do so quite easily, but he had his doubts. He shook his apprehension away and crept onto the bed. Sitting on the back of Yamcha's knees, he poured some of the contents of the vial into his palm. Muscle relaxing oil, something that was in abundant supply during the time of the tournament. When he thought he had enough, he put the recapped bottle on the edge of the bed and began to rub his hands together. He looked at the human's body, and began to think. How did he want to do this?

"Raise up, on your knees. Keep your head lowered."

Yamcha heard the order, and immediately obeyed. He knew what was about to occur, and he was simply relieved that there was going to be some kind of lubrication. He stilled when he felt the warm, slick hands massaging his rear. Then fingers entering him, first one and then two, stretching him while exploring and testing him. And then three fingers, making sure he was ready. He gritted his teeth against the discomfort, surprised that there wasn't more pain involved. Granted, he had had male lovers before, and had had sex with them, though he had never gone down on any of them, so he was expecting more pain. Especially since he was sure that Vegeta wanted him to suffer.

Satisfied that Yamcha was adequately prepared, Vegeta removed his fingers. He positioned himself before he slowly began to slide forward. He gripped Yamcha's hips tightly, and was dimly aware that his tail was wrapping around the human's waist to curl around his sex. When he was fully encased in the heat of Yamcha's tight body, he allowed himself the chance to actually breathe. He felt so… -GOOD-! So right. So perfect. Vegeta choked a harsh sob. He had wanted this for such a long time, to be with Yamcha, like this, but… To actually be buried inside the human, to be able to touch him without reprimand… He knew he should have felt better. He should have felt powerful. But what he really felt was… dirty. And sick. And worthless. But before he could do anything about it, his body took over, and he found himself thrusting rapidly into the hot body under him.

Yamcha bit down on the pillow he rested on. Vegeta's soft tail was wrapped so tightly around his shaft as to be almost painful. Almost. It was touching him, stroking him, in time with Vegeta's quick movements. It felt... amazing! Yamcha couldn't stop his shattered cry as he was brought to climax. "Vegeta!"

Vegeta's own hoarse cry spilled forth along with his seed, robbing him of more than just breath. It robbed him of will. He crashed to the bed, bringing the human with him. Panting, he clutched at Yamcha, burying his head in the scarred warrior's back. "You lost, you know."

"Huh?" Yamcha asked dazedly. If he had already lost, why bother to remain silent any longer?

"You lost. You cried out. You didn't give me your silence." Even as he said it, he knew that he would have no real desire to carry out his threat. He wanted Yamcha willingly. He wanted Yamcha to want -him- and not the other Vegeta. But, he also knew that this night would ruin that chance forever.

"So, I didn't," Yamcha panted. He tried to shift his position, but strong arms around him tightened to stop him. He remained where he was, though a soft brown tail wrapped around him and curled up around his waist. "I guess… you get me again tomorrow night. After the tournament."

"Yes. I do," Vegeta nodded, nuzzling the other's back. Sleep was tugging him under, ever so inviting. "Tomorrow night. You will not speak of this arrangement to anyone else. Understand?"

"Yes," Yamcha replied, exhaustion evident in his voice. He listened as Vegeta's breathing slowly leveled out. He felt the arms around him slowly relax, and the tip of the tail began to flick across his bare stomach. The saiyajin fell to sleep on his side and pulled the human with him, curling behind him, holding him securely in his grasp, as in Vegeta's bed. Though Yamcha was worn out, he stared straight ahead at the wall.

His thoughts whirled in a chaotic tumult. What had happened? Why? He felt violated in a way, but he was ashamed that he didn't feel worse. By all rights, he should hate Vegeta, hate what he'd done, made him do. But in reality, Yamcha couldn't hate him. He understood. He loved him. And he was going to continue loving him. No matter what happened.

It was crazy, wasn't it? They were all in such a ridiculous predicament. Krillin, Piccolo, himself. Of the three of them, Krillin was actually the worst-off. At least Yamcha had a potential something with the man he loved, and Piccolo had... something, but whatever it was, it wasn't unpleasant. Putting his own dire situation out of his mind, Yamcha considered the short human for a moment. Poor Krillin. Stuck with a woman he hated. The sad thing? His 18 was exactly the same way when he'd first met her. Krillin just had gotten used to his -changed- 18. But he couldn't see that now. 'We really need to get him back home.'

Suddenly, Yamcha's brown eyes widened greatly. Krillin was sleeping a mere couple of feet from where Yamcha and Vegeta were lying at that very moment! The paralyzing fear went as quickly as it came. If there was one thing everyone knew, it was that the short, bald human slept like the dead any time he slept. Yamcha breathed easy, knowing Krillin didn't hear any of that.

But what about Piccolo? Sure, these walls were thick, but the namek had supernatural hearing. 'He probably heard every word!' Yamcha thought. 'That is, if he's even in his room. Hmm. Maybe he's not there. He has been spending a lot of time with Goten.' That was something he'd been wondering about a little. Just what were they doing spending so much time together? 'If I didn't know better, I'd think Piccolo was kinda sweet on Goten. Ha! As if Piccolo would ever be 'sweet' on anyone. Not in a million years.'

His mind eventually turned back to his own problematic ordeal. What was he going to do now? Be this Vegeta's whore for the rest of the time he was here? He didn't want that. Despite what had occurred in his room this night, Yamcha still wanted Vegeta. His desire for the smaller male was still incredibly strong. How perverted did that make him? Wanting the person who'd just forced him to have sex with him. If only he could make the saiyajin see that this wasn't necessary. It could be mutual... If only Vegeta could see that.

Sleep finally claimed him, and his last thought mirrored one he'd had long ago when they'd first arrived. 'This place is so fucked up.'





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