Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 11: Quickening ( Chapter 11 )

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 11

He sat amongst the sea of spectators, carefully examining each competitor. Having felt the disturbance months before, he'd searched the world over for the source, hoping he was right, praying that it was time. Eventually, he knew that they would be there at the tournament, and there was a chance they'd participate in it. Though, he wasn't really sure for whom he was looking, but he rather thought he'd be able to figure it out once he spotted them.

He had deliberately missed the opening ceremonies, and the day of preliminary rounds, though only the first was open to the public. For the most part, he hated it here. Hated life in general, but this mockery of entertainment the most. Around him sat a sea of people from all over the galaxy, but all sharing the same bloodlust, the warmongering trait that their leader did. The sunlight glimmered off of a multitude of rose-colored scouters, a link to each other though many hated their brethren guests. From where he sat, he could easily see Lord Kakarrot in the royal booth, Mistress Bulma at his side. She looked so sad. He watched as Prince Goten excused himself from the royal box and Prince Gohan enter, somewhat sleep tousled. He knew that life could have been different, had they only had the chance.

The fourth match of the first round was about to begin as the two contenders stepped onto the platform. His breath held fast in his throat as his eyes landed on the taller of the two, a man the announcer had called the Demon Lord Piccolo.He knew that name. He knew that face. And as the green warrior defeated the other, he knew with certainty that they were here.

The time had come.

***

Android 17 stood in a back room of the competitors' waiting area for the tournament. Hands clasped lightly behind his back, he stared at the chart on the wall. It was a smaller version of the main board in the arena listing the fights and outcomes, and one of the little men who were employed to make the tournament move more smoothly had recently come in to update it.

Piccolo had just dispatched some nobody from the neighboring galaxy. In less than five minutes.

The dark-haired male smirked at that. He'd seen the bout, of course, and he knew that Piccolo could've taken out his opponent with one punch but had humored the other man for a couple of minutes. It was amusing to say the least. Checking the clock just to the right of the chart, 17 saw that he still had a few more minutes to waste before his noon exhibition match with 18. Each fight was scheduled to start on the hour of the next hour.

Prince Goten had fought his opponent first at 8 that morning, as he did every tournament. The match only lasted a mere ten minutes, leaving the crowd restless until 9 when the next bout started. Luckily for the masses, Jeice and his opponent were fairly evenly matched, and the contest lasted nearly the full hour before the orange-skinned warrior tossed the other competitor out of the ring. At 10, Burter fought his challenger and gave the crowd another pleasing round of fighting for close to half an hour until he blew away the other fighter according to Lord Kakarrot's wishes, as the emperor held the lives of all defeated individuals in his hands, deciding whether or not they could be killed in the ring. Unfortunately, Piccolo's extremely brief match only brought shock and bewilderment to the crowd. No one ever defeated an opponent -that- quickly. Not even Prince Gohan!

17 let out a small sigh and stepped away from the chart. 'Just a few more minutes ,' he thought. A small scraping sound above him suddenly caught his attention, and he peered up at the air duct near the ceiling. Two curious blue eyes peeked out at him. Smiling, 17 met the blue orbs calmly.

"Is it safe to come out?" Trunks whispered.

"It's safe. There's nobody around," the android answered.

The lavender-haired youth stretched a slim finger through the slits of the air duct covering and unhooked the latch, pushing the cover open on silent hinges. Losing his grip on the side of the duct opening, Trunks slipped, tumbling back first out of the duct. Had 17 not been standing directly beneath him, the demi-saiyajin might've damaged himself a bit. Fortunately, the raven-headed guard was there to catch him.

"Whoops," blushed Trunks, taking advantage of the situation by immediately snuggling into the warm embrace of the android. 17 nuzzled his lavender temple then set him onto his feet. He remained pressed against the android, even though the royal guard was wearing more armor than was his usual attire. He didn't want to let go, in fact. He knew he could, and that he probably should, as he was in a very dangerous area, and didn't want to be caught, but if 17 said he was safe then he would remain as long as he could. "I wanted to see you before your fight with 18."

"Did you, now?" 17 smirked. He was more than content to simply hold Trunks close, though he cursed the uniform he had to wear. Showing off for the large crowd outside meant that he was forced to wear the royal house's symbols and colors as if he were an advertisement. He was only marginally surprised there wasn't some sort of graffiti on the abomination, such as 'Eat at Joe's' or 'Killroy was here!'. If it weren't for the heavy apparel, he'd be able to actually feel the press of Trunks' body against his.

"Uh-huh," he nodded. A lavender tail curled around the android's leg, and remained there, calm and still. Even in the empty room, they remained pressed almost indecently close together. "And to wish you luck. I hope you win."

"Really." The android licked his lips and tilted his head to one side. He gazed longingly at the other male's features, and but his eyes eventually concentrated on the demi-saiyajin's partially open lips. "And what will you give me if I win?"

Trunks gazed into 17's icy blue eyes. His brow furrowed in confusion. Give? He had nothing to his name! What 17 or Bulma had not directly given him, he had directly stolen. He kept his possessions down to a bare minimum due to his uncertain livelihood. In all reality, he wore the only thing that he could claim as his. "G-give you?"

"Yes. If I win, what do I get in return? What's my award?" 17 dragged his fingertips up the side of Trunks' arm, bringing them up to skim lightly across the sensitive flesh of his collarbone. A tiny smile graced his lips when he felt Trunks quiver and the curious lavender tail tighten its hold. It amazed him, how responsive the other male was to his touch. In the past, he felt power and strength course through his veins with overwhelming speed, but neither compared to the simple pleasure of Trunks reacting to a mere brush of his fingertips.

"What, um, what would you want?" the lavender-haired male queried. He was suddenly warm. Very warm. And nervous, which was rather ridiculous when he thought about how much he wanted to do or get whatever it was that 17 desired. He wanted the crown? Fine. Trunks knew he'd find a way to get it for him. All he had to do was ask for it.

"Let's start... with a simple kiss for good luck," 17 suggested as he leaned slightly back for a better look at Trunks' features. He could feel Trunks relaxing against him, as if he had been somewhat afraid before. He had to remind himself, again, that he had to move cautiously with the younger male. A fact that was as annoying as it was needed. He didn't dare lose control of himself, otherwise he doubted he'd ever recover. If he lost Trunks, he didn't think he'd be able to control himself ever again. He wrapped his arms around the lithe figure, and whispered softly, "We can work out the details later."

Trunks eagerly moved into the android's arms and pressed his lips against the other's. The kiss was intense but brief. In that passionate kiss, Trunks tried to relay his eagerness for what was to come and his concern for 17's safety. He could taste 17's own eagerness, and his concern. Trunks pulled back, his cheeks tinged pink. Idly, he wondered why he was always dizzy from 17's kisses, but it was one of those things that he wouldn't want to change even if he could. "Good luck," he breathed.

17 was leaning in for another quick kiss just before he and Trunks heard a familiar though slightly muffled voice say, "They shouldn't bother you in here."

Of course, the door had also been opened at that point as well.

The black-haired android whirled around to face the intruder, or rather, intruders: Prince Goten, followed by Piccolo, Yamcha, Krillin, and finally, 18. "Safety in numbers?" he asked, one corner of his lips quirking upward.

"They've been chasing Piccolo ever since the end of his fight," Yamcha grinned. He noticed that Trunks was standing behind yet to the side of 17, blushing furiously. He took a closer look at their stance and noticed that they seemed to have just fallen out of a tight embrace, and by the look in Trunks' blue eyes, he wanted to return to it. But not with an audience. "Prince Goten finally brought us back here to get away from them."

"If only it would work well enough to get rid of -all- the pests," Krillin added with a split-second glance towards the blonde android. Even though he knew she had hated being his guard, ever since Lord Crappalot came back from his 'vacation', she hadn't left his side unless he somehow managed to lose her, though it was becoming more and more difficult to do so. For the first time in his life, he understood what some of the women felt like. It was more than simply annoying to have someone who constantly wanted to get into your pants and nothing else. If it had been when he was younger, and unmarried, he wouldn't have minded so much. But things had changed, and he missed his wife.

The blonde android eyed the two males at the opposite end of the room. Their stance, proximity. Quickly putting things together, she blurted out, "Were you just kissing?"

"Ah, geez..." Krillin looked at 18, then at 17 and Trunks. "Not you, too! What -is- it with this place?!"

"Was it for good luck before our exhibition?" 18 continued, ignoring the shorter male's rambling. He occasionally did that. But her brother never did anything unintentionally. So, why was he kissing Trunks? Why was he bothering to waste his time with a palace nobody, someone who had nothing to offer? When she received no answer, she turned to the short human. "I want a good luck kiss. Kiss me. Right now."

The small, bald man stared at her in abject horror. "Are you nuts?!"

She bent down, stealing a kiss, until Krillin abruptly pushed her away. She wore armor similar to her brother's, only hers was cut in a different manner to allow her figure a better, more aesthetically pleasing display. She was supposed to be attractive, yet the small man was still turning her down! How odd!

"Leave me alone!" he shouted, running from the room.

18 was quick to follow. "You're supposed to kiss me for good luck!" she responded from down the hall.

Yamcha chuckled nervously once they'd left the room. "Uh, you know, maybe I'd better, uh... make sure they don't hurt each before the match. I'll, uh, I'll catch up with you later, Piccolo."

The four remaining males watched the human race from the room speedily.

Trunks quickly gave 17 another kiss, and then proceeded to slink out of the room, managing to disappear while still being in the room. A trick of light and shadows he had learned at a young age allowed him to trick most people into thinking he wasn't really there. It was one of the reasons he had been dubbed 'The Palace Ghost'. Piccolo and 17 knew he was still present, but they allowed him his retreat.

The raven-haired android cleared his throat softly. "If you will excuse me, Lord Piccolo, Prince Goten, I have an exhibition match with 18 in which to participate."

He bowed slightly then quickly made his exit, pressing a button on the outside of the room to shut the door behind him.

As usual, a light pink tinged Goten's cheeks when he was alone in a secluded place with the tall, green male. "So, um, I think if you stay back here for a while, I may be able to clear out all the sycophants enough for you to get back into a safer part of the palace."

Piccolo nodded his head, acknowledging the statement, but he also noticed that Goten made no move to follow out his thought. He smirked a bit as he also noticed a far away look in Goten's eyes, as if he were thinking about something very deeply, something that troubled him. He stepped closer to the younger male, seeing how aware the tailed prince was of his surroundings. Goten looked at the ground as Piccolo stepped next to him, which only made the green warrior all the more curious. "Goten?"

Goten looked up, but Piccolo doubted he was actually seeing anything. And then, as if by some strange magic, Goten's eyes lit up. That was about all the larger warrior really got in the way of warnings as Goten jumped up, wrapped his arms around Piccolo's neck, and pressed their closed lips together. Piccolo, taken off guard, naturally brought his hands up and held Goten's waist, while taking a defensive step back.

Just as quickly as it had begun, the act ended, and Goten was on his feet again, blushing so brightly he fairly glowed in the dim illumination. His tail had come loose from where it had wrapped around his waist, and curled up behind him before it dropped down to a low curl. He took a few minced steps back, breaking out of Piccolo's very loose embrace, while trying to stutter an apology that did not want to come forth. Finally, after emitting a strange squeaking sound, Goten collected his frazzled wits and straightened up. "I apologize for that. I don't know what came over me. I… I think I should go. Now. I think… I think I hear someone calling for me. You should wait here for a few more moments so that no one will try to harass you. G'day, Lord Piccolo."

And with that, he fled the room. Piccolo was left standing in the middle of the empty room, in total shock. He wasn't shocked easily, or that often, but it occasionally happened. He raised one hand to his lips, touching where the prince's lips had been pressed. Piccolo looked at the direction in which the younger male had escaped, and began to chuckle to himself. He had been thinking that he was going to be the one leading them down this path. What a shock to discover it was Goten who made the first move.

"The kid did good, surprising me like that," Piccolo commented to himself. 'But turnabout is fair play, and I wouldn't want to be the only one left with a cliffhanger like that. Cute that he ran away. Not so cute as I'll not chase him, but cute. So, how to surprise him?'

The tall warrior turned around, donning his cape and turban effortlessly. As he left the room, his smirk turned into a full-fledged smile. Strategy was his favorite game.

***

Vegeta stared at the murky liquid in the small glass in front of him, completely oblivious to the smoky atmosphere of the bar and the already late hour. The contents held his unwavering gaze, though he couldn't tell what color it was nor what it was supposed to be. Grabbing the glass with both hands, as he wasn't quite capable of holding it steady with just one, he drank the sickly sweet contents all at once. He tossed a few pieces of money onto the table, not really caring if it was enough to cover the tab or not. He only knew it was time to go. He assumed he wasn't drunk enough since he was still able to remember why he was drinking. Vegeta murmured aloud, though he was unaware of his vocalization, "Yamcha."

He became blind to his surroundings as he thought of the scarred human, though he stumbled forward anyway. He had no real idea where he was, or where he was going. He only knew he had to keep moving as he tried to figure things out. What was he going to do? He couldn't hurt the other male; he already felt sick from what he had done just the previous night! "I'll just go to my room. I won't even bother going to see him."

Dimly, he realized he was already in the palace. He noticed Piccolo waiting in a small area, alone. Though unusual, the sight was not enough to stop Vegeta's meandering course. He lost awareness of his surroundings as he walked, trusting instinct to take him to his room. Blinking his eyes, he came to the realization that there was a set of doors in front of him, very familiar doors. Before his muddled mind could comprehend fully that they weren't -his- doors, they slid open to reveal Yamcha.

Yamcha was waiting for him. In the nude.

Vegeta had just enough time to register the human's lack of clothing before he fell into the room, his knees giving completely out. Catching him effortlessly, Yamcha dragged him into the room as silently as a nightmare. Or a fantasy. The short gladiator clung to the scarred human, burying his head against the other's shoulder. A brown tail wrapped tightly around Yamcha's waist. The human embraced the saiyajin, as they both sunk to the floor.

Legs and knees landed where they would as Vegeta gave up. Hot tears began to trace down his face as he tried to bury himself in Yamcha's arms, succumbing to the urges inside of him. He wanted to purge his system of everything that he was, and transform into the person he thought that Yamcha wanted. But he knew he couldn't do that. He didn't know how. And just the thought of failing at it disgusted him, because he knew he would fail. And because he was already disgusted with himself. At the same time, he wanted to ask for forgiveness, to make amends so that he could be Yamcha's friend again, even if that was all he'd ever have the chance to be after what he did.

Silence enveloped the room. Even as Vegeta cried, he made no noise. Only the violent shaking of his small frame gave any indication of the intense emotions pouring out through the saiyajin's body. Yamcha could do nothing but hold him, giving him reassurance and security in his actions. He didn't know what had brought this on. Vegeta was so different from the coldness of the night before. What should he do?

Yamcha, for his part, was at a complete loss. After Gohan had defeated his opponent, and the tournament was ended for the day, he had thought that he would have to go to his room and submit to whatever Vegeta had planned. He had waited for hours before he thought to give up on the erstwhile prince. And then, when the alarm chimed, he had thought that it was finally time to deal with whatever was intended. He had not expected Vegeta would just... cry on him! Especially while in full battle armor! Thinking as quickly as he could, he began to slowly strip the saiyajin out of his armor, but left his under clothes on. Through it all, Vegeta continued to cry against him, silent sobs that racked his small frame, and his tail wound tight enough to hurt.

Vegeta tried to apologize, but every time he thought he had enough air, he would discover the lie behind it and simply break into another round of sobs. So he gave up, allowing his tears to tell the other all that he couldn't voice.Hot tears continued to scald Yamcha's bare chest. Judging by the soreness in his knees, he knew they'd been there for a while and knew they'd have to move soon. But he didn't want to rouse the saiyajin. He was so... vulnerable. Instead he held Vegeta close, caressing his back, willing his knees to become numb.

Unfortunately, that wasn't working out too well for the human.

"Vegeta?" Yamcha softly called out. His only response was Vegeta's tightened hold on him. The taller male shifted his grip on the former prince a bit and scooped him up into his arms, carrying him to the bed. He laid him down gently but did not release him, climbing in close next to him. Vegeta huddled into him, keeping his face buried, his arms and tail still wrapped tightly about the human's torso, his legs pulled in close, putting him in a near fetal position. "Vegeta?" he asked again.

The small saiyajin shook his head, rubbing his face against Yamcha's scarred chest, and let out a ragged sigh. The all too familiar stench of alcohol permeated the human's senses. 'Drunk?' he thought. 'Is that what brought this on? Why would he want to get so smashed?'

Minutes stretched into an hour, and it seemed as if Vegeta had run out of tears, but his body still racked with unreleased sobs. Yamcha's heart went out to the shorter man. Vegeta's demeanor was just so pathetic and heart wrenching. The way he cried without a sound, the defensive position into which his body had moved as though it knew how exposed he was, how he clung to Yamcha like the human was his only salvation. Yamcha didn't know the reasons, didn't know how to help the other man. What could he do? His own tears clouded his eyesight. He was helpless in a situation like this. "Vegeta," he choked out. "Tell me how to help you. I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."

Vegeta clenched his body against Yamcha's, as if willing the taller male to absorb him. Fresh tears mixed with the stains the previous tears had left behind, causing a painful straining to intensify inside Yamcha. "Please," Vegeta finally whispered, his breath hot and uneven on the scarred chest. "Please love me. Please, please, please..."

Liquid despair spilled from Yamcha's eyes. Didn't Vegeta understand that's all he ever wanted to do? To love him? He submerged his face in the saiyajin's ebony spikes, keeping him close in his tight embrace. How could he make Vegeta comprehend that he already loved him? Sighing in helpless frustration, he tightened his arms around Vegeta, beginning to rock back and forth. Turning his head to the side, he began to croon the one lullaby that Vegeta had taught him.

Listening to the soft sound of Yamcha's crooning of the love song, Vegeta quieted. He closed his eyes, relaxing against the hand that stroked his back, even though it was through his clothes. He let Yamcha rock him, as if he were some pathetic child, accepting the affection. Basking in it, though it was such a strange feeling. Such a strange gift. He still remained tucked against the other male, his tail wrapped tightly, as if he was afraid of letting go, afraid that if he did so Yamcha would disappear, and it would -all- be some horrible nightmare trick against him.

With Vegeta quieted, Yamcha laid down, keeping Vegeta against him. Automatically, the shorter male resituated himself, still somehow seeming to curl around the human. The ex-bandit continued to rub his hand down the ex-prince's spine, allowing his hand to pet a small length of brown fur as well before moving back up to repeat the caress.

"Yamcha?" Vegeta asked, his tail relaxing enough for the human to pet more of it until it finally uncurled from its death grip. He sighed as the taller male's hand traveled from between his shoulder blades, down his back, and then stroked his tail delicately. It was such a... delicious caress; Vegeta was helpless but to relax into it.

"Yes?" Yamcha asked softly, his entire world consisting of Vegeta and the warmth of his body pressing against him.

"Sing it again, please. Sing it again," Vegeta sighed.

Yamcha smiled as he continued to stroke Vegeta's back. Lights were turned off and into the darkness, only Vegeta's love song sung by Yamcha rang out. It was more light than Vegeta had ever thought to have. It stayed with him even as he fell asleep, making sure than no nightmares would haunt him. No broken dreams for at least one night.

***

Goten walked towards his room, the events of the day replaying in his mind. It seemed that tournament time was the perfect time for distractions. Such as the minor offenses a few of the visiting nobles' sons performed today. Nothing really worth his time, but it had been in the latter half of the day so he had to take care of it due to his brother getting ready for his match. Of course, the minor offenses of the young visitors were not what troubled the Royal Inquisitor. No, what puzzled him was his earlier lack of control.

When he simply jumped up and KISSED Piccolo.

That had his mind whirling. How could he have done that? How could he, HE, have simply abandoned his sanity to do such a thing? He huffed softly to himself. Not only was he -throwing- himself at the larger man, but he had also come into the habit of catching himself daydreaming about him too. These things had to stop! He had already made a fool of himself once, and he was determined not to do so again. With that resolution in mind, he turned the corner to start walking towards his room...

... and found Piccolo waiting for him outside his door.

The hallway was dark, testament to the late hour. Deserted because it was mainly -his- hall. And yet, Piccolo's mere presence seemed to fill the area. He had on his customary cape and turban, with his arms crossed over his chest. Piccolo had one leg up, his foot propped against the wall, as he leaned back. Goten stared at the image before him, his mouth suddenly and completely dry.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up," Piccolo said, his voice carrying no further than to Goten's ears. Even though they were the only ones in the hall, or maybe because of it, the Demon Lord had decided to keep his voice down.

"Uhhh..." Goten started, but rather trailed off as Piccolo pushed off from where he had been standing. The large man didn't make any other kind of move, but Goten suddenly had the feeling that he was prey. And as confusing as -that- was, he found he didn't mind the idea as long as it was Piccolo who was hunting him. His mind focused on the fact that Piccolo was standing out in the hall waiting for him, and didn't seem to be in a hurry to do anything else. Yet. Which was unsettling, especially in light of earlier events. "I was… dealing with tournament details. Ah. You realize, um, you do realize that the day after tomorrow we're going to be fighting one another, don't you?"

"I know," Piccolo said as he tilted his head to the side. He shifted his position, turning slightly to the side, though not falling into a complete fighting stance, as his arms were still crossed. "I realized that earlier, when I saw how one-sided most of the fights were."

"Yes. Father is easily amused by them, but he was shocked at how easily you dispatched your opponent. My brother was as well," Goten said, his voice becoming steady as he concentrated on the facts of the day, rather than the peculiar fluttering in his chest and abdomen.

Piccolo raised an eyebrow ridge at that. Smirking, he asked, "And what of you?"

"Me?" Goten asked, all instincts telling him to be cautious. He knew enough to go with those feelings. Tilting his head to the side, he appraised Piccolo, trying to understand what the other man meant. "I... I knew you'd defeat your opponent. Easily. You've beaten me, which is not something I'm likely to forget."

"That's not what I meant," Piccolo said, finally taking that first real step forward. His smirk intensified as he noticed Goten stop himself from taking a cautious step back.

"Oh. It's not?" Goten asked, suddenly feeling how hot he was from remaining in his armor, which was odd since he had rarely felt hot before. His tail unfurled from where it was wrapped, curling high behind him. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"Are -you- easily amused?" Piccolo asked, his voice intentionally inflected to send shivers coursing over the young royal.

Goten opened his mouth to try and answer, but nothing emerged besides a small half sound that was unclassifiable. He looked down at the ground, wondering how he was supposed to answer that question. There was the obvious reply, but he wasn't sure if that was the correct one. Yanking at the increasingly uncomfortable armor, he confessed, "I'm not really sure how to answer that."

The taller male eyed the fidgeting and tugging of armor, his own amusement glinting in his eyes. "Something wrong?"

"I have -got- to take off these clothes," Goten grumbled.

Piccolo smirked. He recognized the innocence behind the statement, but it certainly wasn't beneath him to bring out the double meaning underneath it. "So, are you going to strip for me now, too?"

"What?!" The demi-saiyajin blushed furiously. "No! That's not what I meant."

"I know." The green male took a couple of steps back to lean against the wall beside the door. "Why don't you change clothes, then?"

"O-okay," nodded the prince. He pressed a few buttons next to his door, which slid open nearly soundlessly. Taking a few steps in, Goten turned around to see that Piccolo was standing outside the door, looking for all the world like a god pretending to be casual. "Um, you're welcome to come inside and wait... if you'd like."

Goten turned his back to the door and heard the faintest of footfalls before the door whooshed shut. Making for the other side of his room, he paused at the doorway to his walk-in closet. "You can make yourself comfortable. There's plenty of places to sit. Chairs, or the couch, or..." He trailed off when he turned around. Piccolo had taken a seat already and had proceeded to make himself quite comfortable. "O-or my bed. Uh... yeah. I'll, uh, uh, I... I'll... b-be... right back."

'Oh, gods! Piccolo's in my room! ON MY BED! Piccolo's on -my- bed! Oh, gods! ' Goten was in a state of pure panic. What was he going to do? Should he just go back out there without any clothes? Maybe he should get really dressed up. Were they going to stay in his room, or were they going someplace else? Thinking that was a really important question, the prince opened the door again but did not step out of the room. Piccolo was still sitting on Goten's bed. Taking a deep breath, he slowly inquired, "Will we be going any place?"

"I thought we might take a walk to our garden," suggested the reclining man.

"Oh. Okay." Goten shut the door again, glad that he was able to grin and blush and gush in private. 'Our garden. He called it -our- garden! Oh, gods, -our- garden! ' Practically ripping off his armor and constrictive clothing, he swiftly pulled on his normal, everyday black gi, almost falling over trying to put on his shoes. He took a deep breath to collect himself then walked out into his bedroom.

"Your bed linens are interesting," Piccolo remarked upon Goten's re-entry. "The green's a little off, though."

"I-I-I," stuttered Goten. He turned to look again at the image of Piccolo reclining on his bed, memorizing it even as the Demon Lord began to stand.

"Are you ready now?" Piccolo asked, as he walked toward the door.

"Uh... Yes," nodded the demi-saiyajin. He adjusted his scouter over his eye and forced his tail to wrap around his waist. As calmly as he could, he followed Piccolo out of the room. No one was out, or if they were, they were of such low power rating that they didn't even register. He slid his gaze to the large green man he walked beside as they began to walk. He was at a loss for what to talk about, so he grabbed onto the safest thing of which he could think. "So, tomorrow, I fight Jeice, and you fight Burter."

"Yes," Piccolo said. He was watching the younger male out of the corner of his eyes as well, and knew when Goten looked away. The brown tail came undone from where it had been wrapped, curling high behind the prince.

"Jeice isn't very strong," Goten stated as he concentrated on the topic, latching onto it with all his concentration, "but Burter can be quick, and he's pretty strong."

"He won't be a problem," Piccolo responded. He turned his head, looking at the lithe figure beside him as he admitted, "I'm actually looking more forward to the following round."

"When we may end up fighting?" Goten asked, his own gaze flying to Piccolo's before returning to the darkened corridor. They were keeping their voices low, but it wasn't as if anyone were around to hear them. It was only them, and the walls, unless Trunks was around somewhere, and Goten seriously doubted that. He didn't know why, but he rather thought that they were alone tonight. A fact that was as frightening as it was exciting.

"No. Not 'when we may'. We will end up facing each other," Piccolo clarified. He knew for a fact that their matches weren't really worth their effort to fight; they were just too uneven.

Goten only nodded, not sure what to say to that. The idea of having to fight against Piccolo in the tournament wasn't sitting well with him. He'd lose again; he knew that. He'd be so mortified! As much as, if not more than, when Piccolo had figured out his sheets were inspired by the man himself. How was he going to explain that? He fell into a hushed silence as he thought of nothing that would explain away the color combination. "I can get my sheets changed as soon as I get back to my room," Goten blurted out. Belatedly, he decided that an apology was all he would be able to offer.

"Why?" Piccolo asked, toying with the other male. He knew, even as he said it, that he was already playing the game. Now, the question that had to be answered was, would he let Goten know it, or would he simply tease the youth a bit more? He rather doubted that many others teased the prince in such a light manner, more as a friend rather than a threat.

"Well, I mean, you know, maybe they shouldn't be those colors," he answered. "I don't know. I think they gave you the wrong impression of me, and they're not what you think."

"I think they're sheets. And a blanket," Piccolo replied with a grin. 'He's making this too easy...'

"So maybe they -are- what you think," Goten said, relief obvious in his voice. His tail snapped through the air softly behind him, as if it were flicking something worrisome away.

They fell into a prolonged silence as they walked down the abandoned corridors and hallways, each comfortable in the lack of talk. Goten shifted his path to one that traveled a bit closer to Piccolo's, though in all honesty he remained completely unaware of it until his tail began to brush against the outer hem of Piccolo's cape. He blushed lightly, trying to think of something, anything to say as he tried to subtly shift back to a safe distance. "So, did you watch any of the afternoon matches?"

"I watched two of them," Piccolo acknowledged, deciding to let his arms swing at his sides so that he would be able to brush against Goten a bit more. He told himself that it was just to judge the youth's reaction, but a part of his mind that was beginning to speak out a bit more than he had ever heard it before was telling him that it was for his own pleasure.

"Which ones?" Goten asked shakily, very much aware of the feel of Piccolo's arm brushing against his repeatedly. He knew he should move away, even if it was only slightly, but his feet didn't seem to want to obey his command. And, apparently, neither did his tail, as it was almost ready to curl around the larger man's hand, which was a very big no-no. That was something that was unheard of! To actually place oneself at someone else's mercy like that, something completely out of the question, though he rather thought it would be... well, the word 'fun' came to mind but that wasn't the right word.

"Vegeta's match... and Prince Gohan's," Piccolo said, becoming mildly distracted by the tail that continuously brushed against his arm before sliding back away, teasingly flitting against him, begging to be touched, before coyly running away, demanding to be chased.

"Oh. My brother's a very good fighter, isn't he..." Goten spoke softly, mentally comparing his brother to himself. He had been compared to the Golden Heir all his life, so the action came naturally to him. 'He's stronger, faster, better-looking, and more experienced. So why is Piccolo wanting my attention and not my brother's? Why is he wasting his time on me?'

"I'm better," the green male stated without reservation. He rather thought he knew from where Goten's soft frown came, and he didn't want to cause the prince any more grief than with which he already dealt. "You could be a better fighter than him. You only need a proper instructor."

"We don't have any instructors left. Gohan killed them all," Goten remarked. Even without the actual statement, he knew Piccolo was intelligent enough to understand that they had all died before they had ever had the opportunity to train him. Or at least, he hoped he was so that the events wouldn't have to be explained.

"I've been told I teach well," Piccolo commented as he placed a hand on Goten's shoulder. To some, the gesture would have been meant as reassuring. And it was. But mostly, it was just an excuse to taunt that nagging voice in his head, as if to say, 'See, I can touch him without it being sexual.' Sadly, he didn't think the voice would take the hint.

"You mean that? I know you said something before, but I thought you were kidding," Goten admitted as he leaned against Piccolo and allowing for the touch, his mind flooding with nothing.

"I meant it," Piccolo said, but remained silent on all that he had meant that night.

"Oh."

Their pace had slowed as they walked together, until they were barely walking. Goten, thinking it was his fault for slowing Piccolo down, pushed off of the other male and tugged at his shirt to straighten it. However, as he began to walk forward again, he nearly crumpled to the floor. His tail was wrapped around Piccolo's hand and was suffering through the intense pleasure of a strong green thumb rubbing against its furred tip. Gathering as much of his senses as he could, he first tried to swallow. Then, he realized how... sexual the situation was, which led him to think of earlier in the day, when he had practically thrown himself at the larger male.

Which, if he thought about it, was rather like what his tail was doing to him too. Glaring at his own furred appendage, he knew he had to get past his own embarrassment and deal with what had been troubling him all day. "Okay, I still want to apologize for what I did earlier today. That was completely out of line, and I really wish I hadn't done it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"This morning? In the waiting room. You don't remember?" Goten asked, though it was rather difficult to think and be petted at the same time.

"Why? Did something happen?"

"You're infuriating," Goten said helplessly as he turned his gaze to Piccolo's half smile.

"I know." Piccolo chuckled as he released the furred tail. Only, the appendage didn't want to release him as easily. So, in the end, they walked down the hallway, tail wrapped securely around wrist, and fist securely holding onto brown-furred tail.

They reached the garden, though they weren't too aware of the passage of time since they left Prince Goten's room. Goten's tail unwound from its hold, much to the prince's relief, though not to his delight. He walked in to be amongst the plants, trying to find something to occupy his attention, though he could easily feel Piccolo's eyes on him. The prince was pulled up short by Piccolo's words, "Goten, do you remember the first time we were in here?"

"Yes. You kicked my ass," Goten replied lightly as he turned to look over his shoulder. Even as he did so, he found Piccolo walking towards him, past him, and then around him, circling him. The tension from earlier came back, tightening muscles all over his body. He only moved his eyes and head as Piccolo paced around him slowly.

"I think I was just trying to scare you," Piccolo said, his already soft voice turning to a darker, almost sinister octave. His tactics told of the fact that he was still trying to intimidate the younger male, or at least trying to gauge the reaction that admission was to receive.

Goten swallowed and nodded his head. He realized that his knees were trembling slightly, and his tail was ever so softly puffed as it curled low behind him. Piccolo was by far better at intimidating him than anyone else, other than perhaps his father and his older brother. Yet, with Piccolo, there was an added respect and desire to please that his family lacked. Granted, he wanted to please his family, wanted to belong, but he knew that Piccolo wanted something else out of him, and whatever that something else was, he was terrified of not being able to give. "Worked."

"It didn't really scare you, though, did it?" Piccolo said, dropping his voice so low it was more of a rumbling vibration than actual sound. He stopped his circular movements right behind the prince, and leaned down to breathe, "I think you liked it."

Goten stiffened before he turned around. He was going to try and argue the statement, try to defend himself even though he was guilty. His tail moved to wrap around his waist defensively… But he never really got the opportunity to go on the attack, as he found himself taking a reflexive step back from the looming presence of the Demon King.

Piccolo, never one to waste an advantage needlessly, took a step forward at Goten's instinctive retreat. The shorter male didn't retreat far, he couldn't retreat far. The thick foliage prevented it. As before, Piccolo backed the defensive demi-saiyajin into a tree, but this time, he wasn't going to be violent. Well, he rather thought he wasn't going to get violent. He saw himself reflected back in rose and cocked his head to the side. Clasping the offensive scouter in one hand, Piccolo removed it, letting it fall silently to the ground a couple of feet away. "You shouldn't wear that thing," he remarked, his voice as deep and sultry as a midsummer's night. "You look much better without it."

Goten felt the trunk of the tree at his back, and he knew there was no place to go. Again. He lifted his chin defiantly, and was about to open his mouth to argue against whatever Piccolo thought or had planned, but the larger warrior caught him off guard by grabbing his chin and tilting his head back even higher.

Piccolo could easily read the sudden confusion in Goten's eyes, easier to read than a child's bedtime story. He smirked slightly as he leaned down. His eyes closed to slits as he swiftly tilted his head to the side and placed his own lips against the prince's. Gently, ever so gently, the contact was made. He felt Goten tense against him, but then gradually relax slightly. And then Piccolo pressed a little closer, adding a bit more pressure, feeling the younger male relax even further.

Goten had no idea what he had been thinking of before. He was rather curiously mind-numb at present. Unsure, he wrapped his arms around Piccolo's neck, accidentally knocking the green male's turban off as he pulled for more. He leaned against the taller man, angling his head so that he'd be able to keep the simple contact.

With the absence of the turban, which the Demon Lord barely registered landing though it -did- make a rather audible sound, and the slight shift in their positions, Piccolo's antennae roamed freely into Goten's dark hair. Those delicious ripples of unexpected sensation returned, causing the namek to catch his breath because of their intensity. He moved the hand gripping the prince's chin to entangle in raven hair, while the other skimmed down to gently reside on the half-breed's waist. He didn't know why, but he parted his lips softly, letting his tongue gently touch Goten's still closed lips.

Goten's eyes flew wide then snapped shut before he had actually registered any visuals. He parted his lips just barely, more from shock than actual expectation. He surged against the more powerful warrior, his tail snapping in the air before coiling tightly around Piccolo's hand again. He had no clue what he was doing, no real idea what Piccolo had in mind, but he knew that he wanted it. All of it. No matter the quivering in his knees.

Piccolo felt the strong tail tugging at his hand, so he allowed it to direct him where it willed. He had other things on his mind. Like the feel of Goten, who remained pliant beside him, opening his lips just enough to tease a bit more. Piccolo traced the opening, not allowing himself to force his way into the recesses of the prince's mouth, or at least not doing so yet. He used his tongue to taste, and then bit down on a warm lower lip with his pointed fangs before suckling gently at it. Goten moaned into his mouth, pulling him down for more. That's when Piccolo also realized that the brown tail, that mischievous appendage, had dragged his hand so that he was cupping the prince's rear. Devilishly, Piccolo squeezed his prize and was rewarded with Goten's startled gasp. Piccolo released the kiss, only to begin again.

Clutching at Piccolo like he was, his tail unmindful of anything he thought, could he have actually had anything remotely like a thought process at that time, Goten was aware that his knees had given out on him some time ago. It was his arms around Piccolo's neck, his tail, and the Demon Lord that were keeping the youngest prince from melting into the cracks on the floor. Though, there was one part of his anatomy that he knew wasn't going to melt any time soon, as it was harder than some of the building materials of the strongest warships. Mewling helplessly, Goten threw one leg over Piccolo's thigh, inviting something of which he wasn't even aware.

Piccolo was aware enough to realize how unstable their position was. So, he decided that perhaps he should do something about that. Effortlessly, he picked Goten up, and then pressed the prince to the tree up against which he had been backed. The green warrior was rewarded for his thoughtful efforts by Goten wrapping both legs eagerly around him, even as he opened his lips even more. Finally, Piccolo was admitted into the heated confines of the prince's mouth! He dipped his hungry tongue forward, tasting delicately, inviting the other to return the favor. Tempting, teasing, and tormenting the younger man until he finally complied with the request.

Goten wanted to cry. It hurt, but it felt good. It was strange and exciting and so very foreign. His body was beyond his control, his tail still wrapped around Piccolo's hand, his legs wrapped around Piccolo's waist, and his hard sex pressed up against... Piccolo's hard sex. With a helpless whimper, the younger male rotated his hips as best he could, rubbing against the hard body against him. As he did so, he felt a low rumble passing through him, touching places that he had never really known existed. He moved again, placing moving pressure against Piccolo's desire even as he relieved his own body's need for friction. That low vibration of sound passed through him again, and only then did he realize it was coming from Piccolo.

For Piccolo, this was unexpected. Completely unexpected. But nowhere near unwelcome. He had thought that he would only kiss the prince, a real kiss, not the mock kiss of earlier. But this... Letting the demi-saiyajin find his desired rhythm, Piccolo easily picked it up and added his own movements. He never released the kiss, not completely, reveling in the taste and feel of Goten's mouth open to him, welcoming him. He felt the hands clutching at him, begging him for more even as Goten's movements increased in desperate intensity. He could feel the tree shaking as they moved.

Goten whined into the kiss, dark eclipses of light flashing behind his eyelids. He had to breathe. He broke the kiss with a soul felt moan, but he needed air. His head fell back against the tree, allowing his throat to form a straight line, though air still seemed to not want to traverse the path. He tugged Piccolo's head down, wanting another kiss yet not wanting it at the same time. He couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop his hips from their thrusting against Piccolo. He didn't want to stop. If he could, he'd continue moving until time stood still! "Gods! Good. Please. More!"

Piccolo tilted his head to the side, moving the prince's as well, so that he was able to scrape his sharp teeth against the bare expanse of pale throat being offered to him. This was all becoming too much. Hungrily, he ran his mouth, his tongue, his teeth over as much willing flesh as he could, before simply burying his head in Goten's hair and allowing his antennae to feel. He had never been in a situation like this before. Never. The closest he had ever come to it had been a lifetime ago, a different era, a different person. A different everything. Those memories held no weight now, though. They were simply... memories. Goten's cries, though, were doing things to the Demon Lord, tightening muscles and twisting his insides in very, very pleasurable ways. And then a completely new experience occurred.

Goten looked up as Piccolo threw his head back. The larger man's body ceased all movement save for the hand supporting Goten's weight tightened its hold on his rear. Large eyes glowed a fierce white, and the Demon Lord grinned a smile that flashed fangs brightly. That low, dangerous growl from before rumbled forth again, telling Goten how pleased he was. But Goten was still hard, his body still demanding, and now that Piccolo was through, he was afraid that he'd get no release.

He should have known better.

As easily as spinning a partner on a dance floor, Piccolo shifted their positions again. Goten had his legs spread apart, and his tail still wrapped around Piccolo's hand which was again on his waist. But now Goten had his front pressed against the tree, and he could feel Piccolo's other hand cupping him through his pants. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the feel of Piccolo's body pressed completely against his back. "Oh, gods, please. Please. Anything. Anything you want. Please."

"Careful, young prince," Piccolo warned as he tightened his grasp. "You don't want to make promises you won't want to keep later."

"I'll keep it. I promise. I'll keep it," Goten begged, rocking as best he could into the hand holding him and back against the man behind him. He had survived torture before, but that was nothing compared to this. This was... more than he had ever thought to feel. Tears were forming in his eyes, but they weren't released until Piccolo released him. Crying out in frustration, Goten tried to turn, to demand, to do something to stop the injustice of it all, only to feel Piccolo's hand actually slip -into- his clothes, touching green skin to pale skin.

Piccolo heard Goten's sharp cry of startled pleasure, and under it was the sound of wood cracking as the prince dug his hands into the poor tree. The Demon Lord grinned wickedly as he leaned down, whispering of dark things, erotic things, to the prince, who was already losing his mind. He easily traced his sharp fangs over Goten's ear, from lobe to cartilage, before clamping down gently and suckling. His hand had taken up a strong, steady stroke, faster and rougher than the previous movements had been. He smirked at Goten's whimpered exclamations, knowing the demi-saiyajin had no idea what he was saying.

He didn't understand! He didn't understand why his body was bucking as it was. He didn't understand why he couldn't understand what Piccolo was saying, just recognizing the tone of voice that sent shivers up and down his spine and made his tail puff. He didn't understand why he couldn't catch a single breath. But he continued to move, to moan, to demand more and more. He wanted as much as his body could take, and he knew that even when he reached his limit, like some foolish drunk or druggy, he'd demand more. Just as he was about to beg Piccolo to simply kill him, for he knew death was bound to be a bit more lenient than this torture, the world went ablaze with more colors than he had ever seen before. Crying out in rapturous delight, he let his head fall back. His eyes went wide and unseeing, and his aura crackled around him. His seed spilt out, onto his clothes and Piccolo's hand, but those were facts he barely registered as the intensity of the orgasm hit him so hard it knocked him unconscious.

Piccolo caught the collapsed form easily before picking him up and cradling him close. He thought briefly of what to do, and knew that returning to the Prince's room would be a good idea. Yet, he still hesitated. This was the first real experience of this nature that he had ever... done. He didn't want it to end. Not yet, at least. So, instead of returning the young male to his room, Piccolo decided to find a comfortable spot in the garden and await his return to awareness. Though, he admitted with a wicked smirk, it was rather nice to have caused Goten to pass out. Very, very nice.

Upon closer examination of their clothes and according to his own personal discomfort, the green male realized he was going to have to clean and re-clothe himself and the prince. Somewhere near the middle-back of the secluded garden was a fountain almost wholly obscured from the rest of the garden, so he gathered up Goten and headed towards it. He had discovered it previously, while exploring the small expanse of garden. The water was cool and clean, and just what he needed. Gently, he laid Goten down and disrobed himself and then the demi-saiyajin. Piccolo couldn't help but admire the unconscious form in his arms. The ivory skin stretched taut over sculpted muscles. Every facet was elegant and unique, unlike any he'd ever laid eyes on previously. The green warrior thought to compare the prince to his dimensional alter, but found that he couldn't. There were no real similarities in Piccolo's mind.

Utilizing his cape as a washcloth, he quickly but carefully removed any traces of the sticky substances that coated them both. Tossing the soiled cloth away, he reclaimed his easy embrace of the defenseless prince. Seeing Goten like that, appearing innocent and vulnerable, and touching him, although not sexually, brought up a surge of emotion again. What was happening to him? He'd never been so drawn in by someone. To hold him, kiss him, do things he'd never even imagined he'd do with anyone -ever-. 'What have I gotten myself into? I must be insane.'

In two quick flashes, he'd clothed the younger male and himself, foregoing his usual cape and turban, as well as vaporized the soiled clothing. Piccolo held Goten in his lap, leaning his cheek against a warm forehead, reflecting slightly on what was going through his system. It was so strange to feel so... content. Was he actually happy, for once? As if answering for him, his heart sped up in his chest, bringing a tiny smile to his face. He glanced down at the demi-saiyajin in his arms. There was a feeling welling up inside Piccolo as he gazed upon Goten. He'd felt it slowly gaining strength over the past few weeks but hadn't been able to name it. He still didn't know what to call the feeling, and it was overwhelming his senses. What could he call this thing that overtook every single sensibility, every -sense-, and every shred of his being? Was there even a name for such a thing?

He didn't have any more time to think on it because Goten was waking up. The prince's heavy lids lazily opened to reveal glazed eyes, shining brightly the moment they focused in on Piccolo.

"Hi," Goten smiled warmly. The demi-saiyajin snuggled against Piccolo's chest, his tail actively seeking its own purchase on the larger male. Tilting his face up slightly, he pressed his lips very softly to the other's in the most tender of kisses, brushing their lips together only for a few seconds. Resettling back against the broad chest, Goten smiled complacently. Was this a dream? It had to be. Nothing this good could be real. They had shared something, been intimate. 'Does it get any -better- than this? I can't even imagine something more astounding.' Yawning slightly, he asked, "What time is it?"

"Late," was all Piccolo could answer.

Automatically, Goten reached up for his scouter to find the time, but it wasn't attached to his head like it usually was. He bolted up out of the security of Piccolo's arms, his eyes sparking with panic. He knew he was fully clothed, and he knew Piccolo had seen him completely bare before, but without his apparatus, he felt completely naked. It was such an integral part of who he was as a member of society. "Where's my scouter?"

"Back by where we were." The green male smirked, partially amused by the frantic look on his companion's face. He stood then, and with a snap, his cape and turban appeared on him. Slowly, the tall man began heading back through the dense foliage with Goten just behind him.

It didn't take long for them to find the small electronic device since Piccolo's short-term memory was fairly sharp. Scooping it up, Goten pressed a sequence of buttons on it and looked into the eyepiece though he did not affix it to his head. "Damn. It's -very- late," he commented. Fiddling around with the apparatus, a slight frown crossed his face. "Did you mean what you said earlier? About me looking better without this?"

"Yes."

Goten's lips curved into a wry smile. "Too bad I need to use it."

"That can be one of our lessons," Piccolo iterated. "I'll teach you not to rely on that ridiculous contraption."

"I'd like that." The demi-saiyajin paused for a moment then slipped the scouter into one of his pants pockets. "I guess we should be getting back to our rooms now. We do have matches in a few hours."

Even though Piccolo knew this to be true, he loathed having to let Goten go so soon. He saw the same sentiment reflected back in the prince's eyes. It was unusual for him to crave the company and companionship of another person in this way or any way, to be honest. Not for the first time since his arrival in this alternate reality, the Demon Lord found himself unsure of what to do. "I suppose you're right."

Goten fidgeted for a moment, appearing uncertain and indecisive. His tail curled low behind him before finally wrapping around his waist. As if finally coming to a resolution, he announced, "All right. I'm going to do this and then run away immediately... because if I don't run away, I'm never going to."

Piccolo gazed down at the demi-saiyajin and smirked. With every moment that passed, he considered the younger male to be increasingly appealing. In a split second, Goten had jumped up again and placed the most feathery of kisses on Piccolo's lips. A light breeze swept through the empty hallway coming from the garden behind them, causing the taller man's cape to flutter up and around them, embracing them as they embraced, concealing them from the world, allowing them the privacy of their last kiss of the night.

Abruptly, Goten broke the kiss. He felt as if he were drunk again, as if it were really the night of his father's return, and everything between then and now had been some sort of crazy dream. But this was reality! He dropped down to the ground and took a few steps back, a pale flush creeping across his features. His tail shook from its desire to unwind, and his refusal to admit it. Before running down the hall, away from the green stranger, he whispered, "Good night! I'll see you tomorrow!"

Piccolo gave a small smile, lifting his hand into the air in a brief wave. He waited until Goten was completely out of sight before moving. Turning in the opposite direction, he strode down the hall towards his own room. In considering all of the night's events, many things had become confused, muddled. Such as his emotions and his level of sanity. But one thing was abundantly clear in his mind.

Piccolo wanted to do far more than just fight with Prince Goten.