Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 16: Choices ( Chapter 16 )

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 16The room's two occupants stared into the darkness as if they could actually see each other. Neither would sleep, as each was busy watching the other. They each mimicked the sounds made when asleep. They each remained as still as stone, pretending to be unconscious.

Neither was fooled.

It had been like this for a month now, silent torture through the long night hours. Vegeta had returned to his post the morning after the tournament closed, quiet and withdrawn. He had lead the way to Yamcha's new room, and had stood by as Yamcha investigated it. There was an entertainment area, a bathroom with a tub and a shower, and a bedroom. They had both taken silent observance that Vegeta's bed rested beside the door inside the large bedroom. Silent as a shadow, he began to follow his charge, never moving up to approach him. He spoke only when spoken to. His eyes were usually cast down or watching the area they were in. Unless of course, he knew that Yamcha wasn't looking at him, in which case there was nowhere else that Vegeta would look except at the human. He kept waiting for that moment, the moment that Yamcha would spin around and demand his rights as the stronger warrior. It was a terrifying way to exist, constantly on guard, but at the same time, Vegeta knew that he wouldn't mind it. Yamcha had been kind to him so far, had done things for him that no one else would have thought of, had obeyed him when he really didn't need to. The scarred warrior could have killed him that night, and no one would have cared all that much. Well, Lord Kakarrot -might- have, but that was one person whom Vegeta -didn't- want to 'care' about him.

Vegeta watched through the night, fantasies playing out in his head of what might have been. What could have been. What would never be. He had been doing this since his return to duty, and it was beginning to wear him down. It was difficult, sleeping in the same room as the human, and not being able to share the same bed again. His need to hold the human through the night was a double-edged blade, cutting him with fear for what might happen should he be called to the bed. Holding Yamcha again wasn't nearly all that he wanted, but it was something. 'Gods, am I so pathetic as to beg to simply crawl into his bed to touch him? Yes. Dammit, yes, I am that damn pathetic. But what if I did go over there? What if... He's awake, watching me. I wonder what he's thinking. Does he think that since he's stronger than me, he can take me? Hell, he wouldn't be the first. But he has the power to do more than simply hurt my body. Gods. This is torture.' His tail curled around his leg, a way to reassure himself even though he only felt it through his pants.

"Vegeta," Yamcha called out. He knew the prince was awake, just as he was. He was tired of this late night game, though. Tired of the strange dance in which he found himself, where Vegeta would pull him close and then push him away. He had thought that given enough time, Vegeta would make another move: either to further push him away and out of reach, or to pull him closer so that they could... So far, though, no such move had been made. To say that it was frustrating would be an understatement. When Vegeta didn't answer, Yamcha spoke again. "Vegeta, I know you're awake. Answer me."

"Yes," Vegeta replied quietly, as was his usual tone of voice when around only his charge. He wished he could actually see the human, instead of a dark outline against a dark room.

"Would you like to join me?" Yamcha asked, his eyes closed, as he cursed himself for being the fool that everyone already knew he was. He hated how desperate he sounded, but he needed to know.

"Why?" Vegeta asked immediately, softly. 'So that you can hurt me? Overpower me, and take me as if I were trash? Take me as if I were my son? Thanks, I'll pass on that bit of torture. I've been through enough of it as it is.'

"Well, I could lie and say that I'm cold, but as this place is kept at a rather constant temperature, we both know that wouldn't work," Yamcha said tiredly into the darkness. "So, let's try: Because I want you over here."

Vegeta nearly began to cry, but he wasn't sure if it was from relief or from fear. 'I'm too old for this.' He grabbed his pillow and walked over to the far side of the bed. Instead of lying down, however, he clutched his pillow to him and asked, "Are you going to hurt me?"

"What?" Yamcha asked, sitting up in bed and facing from where Vegeta's voice was coming.

"I know you have the strength. I've seen you use some of your power. And I remember you saying that you could probably hold your own against Lord Kakarrot, something that I didn't believe at the time, but I do now," Vegeta explained. "I know that I blackmailed you into performing for me, but that was before I truly understood. I... want to apologize for what I did," Vegeta choked out. After a moment's pause, he continued. "So, are you finally going to seek retribution?"

Yamcha tried to gather his thought processes, tried to think of something to reassure the shorter male, but he didn't get the opportunity.

"You wouldn't be the first person to seek retribution, you know. I've been taken before." With each passing heartbeat, Vegeta became a bit more anxious, a bit more afraid. He had put a lot of thought into this, and he didn't want to stop until he had said it all. Behind him, his tail hung low, sweeping over the ground. He turned his head to face where he knew a nearby wall was. His voice was harsh as he rasped out his nightmarish truth. "Several times. Sometimes... well, sometimes, I deserved it. I overstepped myself. Did or said something that I shouldn't have. Sometimes I didn't. Someone used me to show their dominance to others. But I was still taken. On the ground. Against a wall. In the showers. In the middle of the cafeteria. It didn't matter to them. It has never mattered to anyone. And I was only physically hurt enough to ensure obedience, nothing that would allow me to tempt death. Nothing that would allow me to grow stronger. Much like my son. If I had... well, I'd probably be as strong as you by now. And I wouldn't have to ask... Are you going to hurt me?"

"No," Yamcha whispered thickly. He hated this fucking world. Hated it with such a passion as to border on obsession. He tossed the covers down on the other side of the bed, inviting the saiyajin in. "I promise, no matter what else happens, I won't hurt you knowingly."

Vegeta nodded his head in acceptance and crawled into the bed. He pulled the covers up over him even as his tail curled up high behind him. When Yamcha made no move towards him, his anxiety increased. "Are you going to..." Vegeta started, but found he couldn't quite get out all the proper words through the slight crack in his voice. He pushed forward anyway. "Are you going to tonight, or are you going to make me suffer, wondering when its going to come? Wondering when and where and how."

"Vegeta..." Yamcha began, peering through the darkness. "What makes you think I want to take you?"

"You... don't want me?" Vegeta asked, his eyes flying wide in the darkness. He cursed himself as an idiot, hating himself for how foolish he had been. Yamcha didn't want him! He was nearly on his knees, throwing himself at the human, and Yamcha didn't even want him.

"I didn't say that," Yamcha said quickly. He tried to continue, but Vegeta cut him off again.

"Then take your retribution. Even if you're still pretending that I'm that other Vegeta," Vegeta whispered. He closed his eyes, silently begging it to already be over, and for familiar rules to be in place again.

"You aren't the -other- Vegeta, and I wouldn't want you to be. I prefer -you-." Yamcha's thoughts raced as he tried to think of a good way to explain that he didn't want to dominate the other male. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I can take it. Just... don't prolong the waiting. That's by far the worst part," Vegeta said. He felt so small at that moment. Smaller than he had felt in a long time. And weak. His entire body trembled; partly with fear, and partly with the need to reach out and touch the human, begging for forgiveness and acceptance.

"You know..." Yamcha sighed. "You're very stubborn. I think it's a core personality trait, or something genetic."

To that Vegeta had nothing to say. His breathing increased as he felt the bed shift, indicating Yamcha was getting out. "Where are you going?"

"Bathroom. I'm going to get something. Do you want anything?"

Vegeta raised his eyebrow at that, but said nothing. He easily stripped out of his pants, tossing them noisily to the wall. He remained where he was, waiting for the inevitable. He turned away as Yamcha flipped on the blinding light, but he listened as the human rummaged for something. Then the light was off and darkness returned. The bed dipped again as Yamcha returned. Vegeta held his breath for what was to occur, tension radiating off of him.

"Vegeta," Yamcha said as he closed the distance between them. "I want you to remember what I said. I will not hurt you knowingly."

"So you say, human. But I've been here far longer than you, and I know that pledges such as those are not as easily kept as they are said," Vegeta whispered. He watched the darkness, waiting for the next move. He couldn't help jumping at the first touch, as Yamcha searched the darkness for him.

Yamcha closed the distance between himself and the trembling tailed man. He laid down beside Vegeta, pausing before he continued. He thought, briefly, that nothing should be this hard, especially this. He pushed that aside, though, and continued. He didn't want to top the other male, as he didn't really see that as his place. But he would. And he'd make damn sure that Vegeta liked it, and didn't think of retribution or revenge or anything else of that matter.

Vegeta was unprepared for the soft brush of lips, but he immediately, obediently opened his mouth. He allowed his eyes to fall half shut in the darkness as Yamcha sealed their lips together. He had thought to simply allow the human to take whatever he wanted, offering nothing of himself in the process so as he couldn't be hurt later, but as Yamcha deepened the kiss, the saiyajin found that he couldn't remain unresponsive. He began to kiss back, to taste the more than willing mouth above him. Hesitantly, he reached up and cupped Yamcha's face before wrapping his arms around the scarred warriors shoulders.

Yamcha moved one hand to skim over the shorter male's figure, knowing where he was ultimately going to end up touching. The other arm was used to brace himself above the saiyajin. Along the way, he plucked at the submissive male's nipples, before caressing the area more delicately. He felt Vegeta's shivering in response, and felt the shorter male's arousal growing and digging into his hip. He ran his thumb across the muscles on the ex-prince's side, grinning at the whimper that greeted his action. Grabbing Vegeta's hip to tilt him to the side, Yamcha made sure to touch as much skin, massaging where he could, before roughly sliding his hand around to cup the base of Vegeta's tail. He was rewarded with Vegeta's muffled, shocked cry, and the tail pressing down and not allowing him to stroke that very sensitive spot. But his thumb was still pressed against the velvet skin, and Yamcha knew that even with it trapped, he could still maneuver it somewhat.

Vegeta gasped loudly as Yamcha broke the kiss, needing more air than his lungs could possibly take in at one time. He turned his head to the side, exposing his throat to Yamcha, though the human only wanted to rain hot, open-mouthed kisses along the bare flesh. He didn't understand what Yamcha was up to, but he found himself already hard and aching. His body was demanding he thrust forward, but he knew if he did that, it would allow the human the opportunity to exploit the skin at the base of his tail. It seemed that the inability to see only heightened the sensation from each touch and caress. Vegeta hissed as he felt Yamcha's teeth clamp onto his earlobe.

"I get to take you, right?" Yamcha asked playfully soft, his voice a masculine purr.

"Yes." Vegeta shivered before finally giving in to his body's need to thrust forward, but only once. He choked as he felt Yamcha's finger sliding against his skin, but not so much as to slide away. "Any way you want."

"Any ideas?" Yamcha asked, wondering if Vegeta could guess what he was wanting. The answer given would also tell what Vegeta wanted, and what the shorter male would get.

Not really thinking that clearly, Vegeta assumed that the human wanted to know how the others had taken him, so that he'd know what was expected of him. "Inside me."

"All right." Yamcha replied. "But first…"

Vegeta used one hand to grab the forearm down around his waist. With his free hand, he entangled his fingers into Yamcha's short, raven spikes of hair. The older male yelped softly as he felt Yamcha shift his attention. Teeth and tongue and lips began to pluck and taste and torment his nipples, teasing them. First one, then the other. Vegeta lifted one knee, beginning to writhe against the mattress at his back, but his traitorous tail caught his ankle and pulled, bringing his leg up.

Yamcha shifted so that he was lying between Vegeta's knees. He raised himself to grab what he had brought with him from the bathroom. Awkward and blind, using one hand as he was loathe to remove the other where it was from Vegeta's tail, he managed to get lubricant onto his hand. He tossed the empty container to the ground. And then Yamcha leaned back down.

Vegeta's low moan of pleasure filled the room. His eyes threatened to roll back in his head as he felt Yamcha's mouth kissing the tip of his sex. And the tongue that brushed over him was murder to his sanity. He spread his legs further, cradling Yamcha's shoulders. His fist tightened in dark hair as Yamcha began to deep throat him again, pleasuring him again. His short, raspy breaths filled the room with sound, each one in time with Yamcha's quick movements. He thought he was going to die from the feel of the hot mouth sucking on him, pulling forth everything that was in him, trying to drink his soul. Through the pleasure, he was only dimly aware of the fingers that entered him, stretching him.

Yamcha smiled around his mouthful as he found Vegeta's prostate. He knew he found it because the shorter male let out a cry the likes of which he'd never heard before, bucking upwards into his mouth. And though he'd never been very good at multi-tasking before, he found that he was quite capable of rubbing Vegeta's tail, teasing the shorter male's prostate, and devouring his shaft.

Vegeta was mindless with need. With hunger. His hips were bucking, twisting, moving of their own accord. Dark skin was bejeweled with beads of sweat from exertion, and Vegeta's labored breathing told of a hard workout. He was quickly becoming overwhelmed with the sensations, and he could feel his orgasm approaching him like a tornado in the distance. Faster than he thought possible, Vegeta was moaning his release.

Yamcha felt Vegeta's body tighten and then fall back to the bed, relaxed and pliant, even as he accepted the briny substance that washed into him with his own soft moan. Making sure that none of the prince's seed spilt, he began to kiss his way back up to whisper into the saiyajin's ear. He kept his fingers moving, though, letting the shorter male know that it wasn't over yet. "Vegeta?"

A low moan was all with which Vegeta could respond, his mind numb from the sensations still ravaging his body.

"Heh," Yamcha chuckled, sounding all too pleased with himself. "I take it that I did good."

"Gods," Vegeta breathed slowly, regretfully untangling his hand from Yamcha's hair. It fell heavily to the bed beside him.

"Remember. I don't want to hurt you. Tell me if I hurt you," Yamcha said, all laughter gone.

"Yeah. Sure," Vegeta replied, enjoying himself. Enjoying what Yamcha was doing to him. And then he was moaning his displeasure as the fingers left him, leaving him feeling a bit empty and hollow and abandoned. He allowed Yamcha to lift up his legs, positioning him. There was the dulled spike of fear, a hazy memory, as he felt the tip of Yamcha's sex waiting at his entrance. But it didn't last, as he listened to Yamcha's voice whispering unintelligibly to him. He bit his lower lip to stifle his groan as his lover pushed forward slowly. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Vegeta was sure he was going to stark raving mad before Yamcha was done, but he wasn't able to actually find the words to demand anything. Actually, he wasn't able to find any words.

When he was finally completely inside, Yamcha released his breath, his entire body trembling. He leaned down, his forehead pressing against Vegeta's forehead, as he tried to catch his breath. He felt the prince moving under him and then he felt weakened legs wrap around his torso, allowing him to sink even further in. It was all the invitation that Yamcha needed to start moving, one arm bracing his weight off the other male, while the other hand returned to continued massaging that one area of Vegeta's tail.

Vegeta moaned, all semblance of vocabulary gone. He didn't understand his lover's languid, excruciatingly slow movements, but they were making him aroused all over again. He raised his arms so that he could grip Yamcha's shoulders, kneading them with need. He forced his tail to obey one command, just one, and was pleased when it wrapped around Yamcha's upper thigh so that its furry tip brushed the back of the human's scrotum. He had never been taken like this. Never. The closest that anything came to this was when he took someone else, wanting them to want him in return; he would do his best to cause them pleasure. But that was different. This was the first time he was willingly a submissive, and the first time he was enjoying himself in a sex act in a long time. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but all that came out were strange gasping noises.

Yamcha moved to slant his mouth over his princes, kissing him soundly, robbing him of sanity. He kept the slow pace, though. When he broke the kiss, in need of oxygen, he began to murmur in the prince's ear. "You feel good, you know that? Taste better, though. I love how you feel, trembling and musky, sliding in my mouth. Like those strange sounds you make when you're near orgasm."

"Yamcha, shut up," Vegeta groaned, finding his voice at last, grateful that he was allowed to speak as he wouldn't know what he would do if he weren't. "If you don't, I'm going to come again, and that'll -kill- me."

Yamcha's laugh was one of pure masculinity, one that Vegeta would have admired under different circumstances. "But Vegeta... I just wanted to tell you the truth. You do feel good. But ya know what? You'd feel better inside of me. Moving as hard as you wanted to, making those come-eat-me, come-fuck-me noises. They're a turn on in themselves."

Vegeta hissed in response, tightening his thighs. "Gods, shut up! Less talk, more action."

Yamcha grinned, beginning to pick up the tempo. He preferred making love, slow and passionate. But he was never one to turn down a lover's request. "I just want to know... What's your preferred position?"

"Damn, you talk a lot during sex," Vegeta gasped. "I don't know, what's your favorite?"

"You're pretty vocal too, only not with words. I like that. It's good. My favorite position?" Yamcha grinned. "Well, it really depends upon who I'm with."

"With me?" Vegeta asked through a whimpering moan. How could the man talk and... still manage to keep going so slowly?

"With you? I would -love- every position," Yamcha promised.

Vegeta's shattered cry echoed in the small room.

Soon, both their bodies were covered with dripping sweat as they struggled towards that final goal. Their bodies moved in quick, hard thrusts against each other, demanding more than they'd ever thought to need. Vegeta was the first to break under the heated conditions, as his resolve was already cracked from his first climax. His neck arched as he cried out, his entire body tightening. He could hear Yamcha laughing as nails dug into the skin of already scarred shoulders. Lights like he had never seen blinded him in the darkness.

When his mind and body finally returned to the same time and space, Vegeta found that he was alone in the bed. He tried to move, but his body was the next best thing to liquid metal. He opened his eyes to discover the bathroom light was on, and a sated Yamcha was walking towards the bed, something in his hand. Vegeta closed his eyes for only a moment, but it was more than enough time for the human to walk around the bed and sit down. Vegeta began to purr as he felt the heated, wet rag wash over his bare body. The next thing he knew, Yamcha was curling up around him, back on his side of the bed. The prince had never been more content, more filled, more... pleased than he was at that moment. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Yamcha yawned as he snuggled closer to the shorter male, draping one leg over the prince. After a while, he added, "Next time... you top."

Vegeta heard, but he didn't have the strength to respond. Which was just as well as Yamcha was already unconscious.

***

Goten straightened his shirt as he left his room, his tail wrapped securely and professionally around him. A month, a whole -month-, had passed since Piccolo had been moved just down the hall from him, and he'd barely seen the larger male for more than a handful of minutes here and there. It was pissing him off. And yet another morning had arrived without him having seen the Demon Lord in days. Goten was determined that this morning would be different.

Moving down the hall, the prince noticed 17 standing outside of Piccolo's room, his back to the door. His face lit with the smallest traces of a smile; he was convinced that an opportunity had presented itself to him, and he had to seize it. Ever since Lord Kakarrot had decreed the guards were to be reinstated, and he'd discovered the relationship between the android and the Palace Ghost, Goten had steadily been building a plan in the back of his mind, especially since he hadn't been able to see Piccolo. And that was really the point of all this, wasn't it? To spend time with the one person whom he actually -wanted- to be near.

"Good morning, 17," greeted the demi-saiyajin, bowing his head slightly.

The raven-haired android raised an eyebrow but returned the gesture. "Good morning, Prince Goten."

"I don't see our guest," the prince commented. "You're not neglecting your duties, are you?"

"The Demon Lord is bathing. I felt to give him complete privacy, rather than to wait in the parlor." 17 coolly observed the royal. Despite the changes he'd seen in some of Goten's behavior, especially with regards to Piccolo, he remained suspicious of the younger man. "Is there something with which I might assist you?"

"Perhaps," Goten said, tilting his head to one side and eyeing the android. "I would like to ask you something. Since you have relocated here with Demon Lord Piccolo, have you had any time to yourself?"

"I have not," answered the android. "It is my duty to guard Piccolo at all times. I would not be remiss in this."

"So, then, you haven't seen Trunks?"

17 froze. He would not discuss the lavender-haired demi-saiyajin with Goten, no matter the casualness of the questions. But maybe this question would be safe enough... "I have not."

"Wouldn't you like to?" the prince inquired. There it was again, that stillness that only came with death. Goten always felt unnerved when the android would grow still like that. Well, he wasn't going to allow this. He was certain of the relationship between 17 and Trunks, but if 17 wouldn't even acknowledge that, then how would he be able to continue with his plan? Convincing himself to pursue the topic, he decided he'd have to provoke the artificial being, if only to get a response. "You love him... Don't you..."

To that, 17 had nothing to say. He wouldn't be baited by the young prince. He wouldn't. But he couldn't help the flashing in his pale blue eyes at the statement he knew to be true.

"You must love him. He's a nobody... to everybody else. But I saw the way you... held him. The way your eyes flashed when I entered the room, ready to kill me before you even knew who I was. Something that only happens when you are in the grip of a truly strong emotion. Something that is so rare with you." Smirking, Goten chose to push the bar a little further, keeping his voice level and cold. "But then again... maybe not. Maybe you just like to fuck him like most everyone else. Like Recoom did. Or Ginyu. Or Nappa. Or... my brother."

A sharp snarl escaped the android's lips. With his fists clenched tightly at his side, 17 denoted, with very crisp words, everything on his mind. "Trunks is mine. If I find anyone, including your brother, touching him, there will come a reckoning the likes of which this empire has NEVER seen. And it will -never- recover." Breathing deeply, 17 calmed a bit, his anger cooling and his reason once again taking control. Learning to control himself was a lesson he learned long ago, and it was one of the reasons he was still in his position. "From where is this really coming, hmm? Could it be that your twisted mind has to come attack me because you yourself have not been able to see the one whom -you- desire? Don't think it escaped my notice. Oh, yes. I -know-. You may have been able to fool the rest of the world, but I can see as plain as day your regard for Demon Lord Piccolo." 17 forced a frightening smile. Throwing the prince's own words back in his face, he said, "You love him... Don't you."

Goten paled considerably, his tail tightening around his waist. While he'd gotten the answer he'd been seeking, he also received far more than for which he'd bargained. How had 17 known? No one ever saw him and Piccolo together. Was the android really that intuitive? 'But he's just a machine!' Swallowing the huge lump in his throat, the demi-saiyajin curved his lips into a strained smile and chose not to answer other male's implied question. "I have a proposition for you."

17's eyes narrowed. "I'm listening."

"Half an hour past curfew, you may leave to go to your room. To have that... free time I know you desire. And you will be back half an hour before your relief guard arrives."

"And I suppose you will be... 'guarding' Piccolo."

"Yes." Goten took a step back. "We each get what we want."

The android folded his arms across his chest. "What's the catch?"

"Tell no one of our deal," stated the prince. "And don't get caught. There is no other... catch."

"And what about Piccolo?" 17 asked. "Doesn't he get a say in this? What if he doesn't approve?"

Pausing, Goten considered these words. It hadn't even occurred to him that Piccolo might not want him to visit. True, they had not seen each other much in the past month, but... That wouldn't change things, would it? Piccolo had said things wouldn't change. Hadn't he promised? His dark eyes widened slightly as he felt something low in his stomach rising to his throat.

17 was suddenly taken aback by the panic that sprung up in the prince's unfocused eyes. Cursing at Goten hadn't affected the demi-saiyajin, but mentioning Piccolo's potential disapproval had. Somehow, that hadn't felt right to the android. He almost felt bad for the prince. If he had not been fully convinced before, he felt certain then that Goten was in love with Piccolo. 'Deep down, he really is just a scared little boy, isn't he?' For him to be so scared of rejection... There could be no other answer. "I doubt he will have any problems with it," 17 attempted to reassure, taking pity on the prince. "But I will ask. Subtly."

Goten's eyes cleared, and he could do no more than nod, quickly turning and nearly running down the hallway away from 17. His tail was only slightly looser than it was while talking with the android, but it was far tighter than he cared for it to be.

The dark-haired guard watched the prince disappear around the corner, and toward the rest of the palace. Shaking his head only slightly, not so that his raven ponytail would actually move, he leaned back against the side of the door. It was obvious that Goten wanted Piccolo, and he had suspicions that the affection was returned. Grinning, 17 thought that perhaps he could play a bit with this. He and Piccolo had formed a strange sort of friendship, a true friendship, like one he would have with an equal, though he knew he was by far weaker in physical strength than the green man. It was strange, and not something that he would want to damage. But that wouldn't stop him from doing a bit of digging, and perhaps a bit of teasing.

Beside the guard, the door softly hissed its opening, and the suite's occupant stepped out into the hallway. "Good morning 17," Piccolo greeted.

"Good morning, Piccolo," 17 returned. "Where to? Breakfast? A spar?"

"Spar," came the quick answer. He was getting agitated and bored, and his usual mediations weren't helping him. Partly to blame was the fact that when he did meditate, the topic of choice upon which to reflect was his insane inner voice that continued to goad him into strange behavior. A little physical action might take his mind off of his inner turmoil, and clear it enough to begin meditation properly.

"This way, then." Moving steadily down the hall towards the lift, 17 stole glances at his charge. He wanted to breach the topic of the 'deal' Prince Goten had offered, but he still wanted it to be subtle. Maybe he'd just... beat around the bush a bit. Stepping into the lift after Piccolo, he made his move. "Would it be impertinent of me to ask you a few questions?"

"You may ask," the taller male offered. The idea that 17 would ask to ask questions got his attention. Usually his guard was right there with a quick observation, or an explanation of something.

"Has your opinion of Prince Goten changed since your arrival here seven months ago?" The motor to the lift sang softly as they descended the levels. Sure, they both could have flown to the sparring grounds, but that would have been a much shorter trip. He had orders to keep Piccolo busy, and if that meant taking the scenic route, 17 didn't mind. And it wasn't as if Piccolo ever lodged a complaint or anything.

"Yes," Piccolo said, looking at the android out of the corner of his eye. He wondered to where -this- line of questioning might lead but wasn't going to hazard a guess. He was afraid it would end up being just as disturbing as his meditating.

"And has it changed again in the past month since the tournament?"

"No. Why do you ask?" Piccolo asked, turning to face his android guard fully.

"It's just that before the tournament, you and the prince spent a considerable amount of time in each other's company. But since the tournament, you haven't seen each other hardly at all, let alone spent any time together. I wondered why that is," the blue-eyed male remarked, getting closer to broaching the subject that had led him on this path. Well, one of the subjects. It was also entertaining to see how guarded Piccolo could become over a small conversation such as the one they were sharing.

"Lack of opportunity, I suppose."

"I see," 17 answered. Grinning, he tilted his head to the side to ask, "And... Would you welcome the opportunity?"

"May I ask to what this line of questioning is pertaining?" Piccolo retorted, more than slightly suspicious. It was almost as if 17 were trying to make a deal with him, and he wasn't sure of all the fine print.

"I am merely... curious. You seemed to hold Prince Goten in high regard, and then all visitations between you to stopped. I thought that perhaps you two had a... spat, much like a lover's spat," the android shrugged.

"WHAT?!" Piccolo shouted.

Snagging a page from his earlier conversation with Prince Goten, 17 pressed on. "I've noticed. The way you look at each other. How you look at each other when you think the other isn't looking. How you stand closer than is really necessary. There's a certain... How shall I put this? A certain emotional connection."

"Perhaps you're confusing Prince Goten and myself with yourself and Trunks," Piccolo tossed back at the android.

17 stiffened, his lips tightening into a firm line. Finally, he huffed, "At least we're not drowning in denial. Like some people I might mention."

"I don't know what you mean," the larger man stated, crossing his arms defensively, obviously unnerved by the conversation. "There's nothing to deny."

"You do realize that you are denying being in denial, don't you?" 17 smirked with one upraised eyebrow. When his only response was a dark glare from the taller man, the android couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Well, I guess since there's no -reason- for you to -want- to see Prince Goten, I shall have to make sure that your two paths don't cross. It's just a shame, though."

"Oh?" Piccolo said, noticing that the lift had stopped and was waiting for them to actually approach the doors.

"Yeah. I'd have had someone with whom to compare notes," 17 grinned. Sobering slightly, he allowed a bit of the cooler guard that he was to leak out of him. He doubted he'd ever really -like- Goten, especially after all the younger male did to Trunks, but he did like Piccolo. He respected the man, not just as a fighter, but also for his mere presence. People like that hadn't come around often in 17's lifetime, so he rather thought that they might have been rare. Rarities had to be treasured, protected, and cared for. That, however, didn't stop him from also having the desire to yank Piccolo's chain a bit. "But, also, I think you two would do well with each other. And do well -for- each other."

"Like you and Trunks," Piccolo noted, very uncomfortable with where this was leading, yet at the same time, masochistically pursuing it.

"Heh. Trunks and I have several advantages over you and Prince Goten," 17 said smugly. When Piccolo raised an eyebrow ridge as if in inquiry, he explained, "We're both intelligent enough to recognize the fact that we are in love with each other, and to cherish the emotion for what it is. A rare gift."

Piccolo opened his mouth to reply, but 17 was already signaling the door to open. He knew that their conversation wasn't for an audience, and he knew that it was going to haunt him. Along the short walk to the sparring area, he began to think about what 17 said and considered how he felt for the young prince. The android had been hinting at being in love. Love? Was that what he felt for Goten?

Reflecting upon his past, he thought he knew what love was, or at least he knew what love could be like. But weren't there many levels and ways of loving a person? He only knew of love from the Gohan of his world, and that was similar to this. Yet, his feelings for Goten extended even deeper. There was an intensity and passion between them that hadn't been truly explored with Gohan. Could there have been? Piccolo really wasn't sure he wanted to know. But now he had a name for that nagging, confusing emotion he'd been feeling. He was in love with Goten.

Piccolo didn't mind putting his perplexity to good use in aggression towards the android during their sparring match, sparing only enough attention to avoid injury. But then, 17 began to speak again, his voice just loud enough for no one but Piccolo to hear. "You should feel privileged, you know. Prince Goten has never favored anyone. -Ever-. Yet he favors you. It's a great honor. To be favored by someone who cares for no one."

"Are we still talking about this?" the green male grunted as he blocked his opponent's punches. He didn't really want to hear any more on the subject, since he was confused as it was. Nevertheless, it pleased him to hear about Goten's regard for him. Certainly he knew the demi-saiyajin was interested in him and attracted to him, but hearing that it went deeper... That was very satisfying. And he trusted the android's observations. "I thought we were done."

"Not yet," smirked 17. He took personal gratification in the fact that he'd gotten under Piccolo's skin a bit with the talk about Prince Goten and 'feelings'. That meant there was hope for them yet. "Can you deny he favors you?"

"No," Piccolo said, throwing another hit at the android, making sure not to use all of his strength, as he didn't want to harm 17 too much. Though it was tempting, if only to block what was surely going to be a very revealing conversation.

"Yet you will deny you favor him as well?" 17 asked, making sure to stay out of the way of an incoming fist. If the sound that each blow made snapping through the air was any indication, Piccolo was increasing the strength behind each of his attacks.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Piccolo answered, his eyes narrowing dangerously, trying to threaten the android off enough so that he wouldn't have to admit to anything. Aloud. He already had suspicions. He didn't want to have to confirm someone else's before he thought some more.

"Why? Does it bother you? Can't face your emotions?" 17 smirked, knowing that he was pushing Piccolo, and enjoying it. Piccolo wasn't easily riled, and in fact, this was one of the first times that the dark-haired guard could think of that had Piccolo at this emotional level.

"Careful, 17," Piccolo warned. "I'm not above smashing you into the ground."

"Are you afraid?" 17 queried softly, partly joking, partly serious. It was a loaded question.

"I'm not afraid of you," Piccolo hissed, throwing a small chi attack at the evasive android. It hit the dark- haired male on the upper arm, burning through the material. He thought, ever so briefly, of showing exactly how powerful he was, and that there was nothing in this realm of which he was afraid, but he realized just as quickly that an act such as that would do nothing but cause harm.

"But you're afraid of how you feel. What a pity, hmm?" 17 grinned as he charged forward, taking a small amount of satisfaction from making the larger male back up a step.

"Cut it out!" Piccolo chided, or at least tried to. It didn't sound nearly as commanding as it could have, as it should have, to Piccolo's ears. And, in fact, sounded almost as if he were pouting.

"No, thanks. I'm having fun now." 17 ducked, narrowly avoiding a kick that very well may have taken off his head. Spinning out of the way, he floated a few feet just out of reaching distance from Piccolo. He shook his head mockingly. "Really, Piccolo. This petulance doesn't become you."

"What do you want me to say? Will that shut you up?"

"I promise to drop the subject if you answer one last question."

"Spit it out."

"Do you want to see him? You know who I mean."

That gave the green fighter pause. His immediate, gut reaction was a definite affirmative. But Piccolo tried not to act on impulse too often, especially in an area where he was unsure of himself and of his stability. Caution was called for. However, as much as he thought that it would be prudent to remain careful, he couldn't suppress the electric thrill that raced up his spine at the thought of seeing Goten again. Carefully, he tilted his head as he gazed at the android, and replied slowly, "Yes."

"That's all I wanted to know. Thank you for your cooperation. Now, shall we continue?" 17 chirped as he fell into a defensive stance again.

But Piccolo was no longer interested in sparring. "That's enough for today."

"But it's been barely half an hour," 17 half-heartedly protested. "You usually last much, much longer than this."

"I'm no longer... entertained," came the sharp reply.

"Very well." The android moved out of the sparring ring, heading back towards the palace. "Would you like to go to the East Garden now to meditate?"

"No."

"Well, then, what do you want to do?" 17 inquired.

Piccolo's eyebrow ridges drew downward. He wanted information, but how to get it? And his topic was definitely on the sensitive side. He certainly couldn't just openly discuss it. He -could- ask 17, but... No. The android had teased him enough for the day. 'Gohan studied a lot. Too much, really. Where did he go?' he thought. Book store? Something like that. -Library-. "Does the palace have a library?"

"You want to read?" The raven-haired male scoffed. "Talk about -dull-."

"Study."

That got the android's attention. Very few people actually studied around the palace. Plus, knowledge was power, and Piccolo was already powerful enough. "May I inquire as to your topic of study?"

"You may not."

17 smirked. "Very well, then. Shall we return to your suite? You can access any information files you wish from the console there." As they entered the lift, the android continued to pry ever so slightly. "Are you very technologically adept?"

"Not 'very'," answered the taller male, "but well enough to get around."

"I'll assist you with getting started," 17 offered, taking Piccolo's nod as acceptance.

Once 17 had pointed out how to use the console and access general files, he left Piccolo to 'study' on his own. But not before taking a quick peek at the screen. The guard was very glad that he was already on his way out the door, as he knew he wouldn't be able to contain the large smile that spread across his face at the topic under observation. He had to laugh at the larger warrior's... secrecy. It was comical, in a sweet sort of way. He knew Mistress Bulma would've gotten a giggle out of it, if he told her, which he wouldn't. And neither would Trunks. This was between Piccolo and Goten, and him and Trunks. 'Well, I'll get to spend more time, more nights, with Trunks. Which is worth a little bit of tongue-biting.'

***

Vegeta stared down at the hungry mass of people below him. He knew that they were now his livelihood, now that Bulma finally gotten tired of the charade of couple-dom that they had both endured for this long. It wasn't that they didn't have an attachment to each other, but... sometimes that wasn't enough to make them tolerate each other. So, in the end, she had given him a sizable amount of money and set him up in a condominium.

He had taken the money, and after the first day where he was left wondering what the hell he was going to do with it, had decided to invest it. But, rather than buying a house for himself, he bought a nightclub. Granted, when he first bought it all those months ago, it was rather disgraceful. But it was all he could afford. After the place was officially his, he began to remodel, actually building something after a lifetime spent destroying things. It was a... strange experience for him. When it came closer to time for him to open his, -HIS-, nightclub, he found that 18 was there, pestering him about trivial things like napkins, and waitresses, and licenses, and a load of other nitpicky things; things that only she would think of since she had so much time on her hands with her husband missing. So, just to shut her up, he hired her as a manager. Strangely enough, she accepted the position, and they both found that she did a remarkable job at running the place. She had even gotten her brother, 17, to be a disc jockey.

Vegeta smirked as he raised his glass to his lips, glancing at the napkin it had been resting on. In stylized red ink, the name of his club splashed across white, "Vegeta-Sei". He was ruler here, for as far as the eye could see. Over the door, the royal symbol of his house blazed in red neon. After opening day, that door had yet to close. It seemed that his son, and his son's lover, were very good about spreading the word about his place. The prince's eyes easily caught said youths on the dance floor, barely keeping things clean. He had already reprimanded both Trunks and Goten for nearly causing a scene before. He'd do it again if he had to. Sighing, Vegeta put down his glass. It was late, and there was no real reason for him to be there, other than the fact that he didn't want to go home.

The condo that Bulma had set him up in... belonged to someone else. Flatly put, she had set him up as a house-sitter. Very embarrassing and degrading. Nine o'clock every morning, he was watering plants. It was a nice home, definitely a place in which he could get accustomed to living. But, the fact that Bulma had set him up in the home of one of her ex-lovers until his return, that was what had originally bothered the prince. Originally. Things had gotten complicated since then.

He had heard of the New Year's Eve incident, where Piccolo, Krillin, and Yamcha had disappeared from the Lookout. He knew that it was his son's fault, too. Well, his and Goten's, but he was rather sure that it was his son who instigated it as Goten usually just followed Trunks around like a puppy. And he knew that not much later, Trunks and Goten summoned the Great Dragon and made a wish that had something to do with knowing how the namek and two humans were doing, although he hadn't been eavesdropping that closely. And since he didn't particularly care enough to ask what the second wish was, he never heard the details. Vegeta had thought it was all a waste, as the only decent fighter to go missing was Piccolo. Maybe Krillin, if he was having a -really- good day. He had dismissed the whole thing at the time, busy with preparations for owning a business.

Upon the first day of moving into Yamcha's home, the first thing he had noticed was that the place was saturated with the human's scent. He hadn't cared all that much, as Yamcha wasn't that much of a concern of his. The place was large, built for entertaining and impressing people. There were two bedrooms, but one had been converted into a storage room. There was the unmistakable musk left over from the she-cat, Pu'ar, from when she had been staying there, and Vegeta couldn't blame the human for turning the room into a closet. Pushing the human's clothes to the far side of the closet, Vegeta took over the house. He kept the foodstuff well supplied. The plants were watered. The place was cleaned every weekend. But Yamcha's scent lingered. Even after six months.

The scent wouldn't have been so bad... if it weren't for the dreams.

The glass in his hand broke as Vegeta inadvertently crushed it. Just thinking of the dreams had his entire body responding. His skin flushed hot, burning, even as it broke out in cold sweats. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, low and visceral like the bass of whatever song 17 was playing. Knees turned as week as water. Breathing turned ragged, and Vegeta had to consciously take control of his body. But no command he could give would assuage the heavy ache in his loins, a hard arousal the likes of which he hadn't had since... actually, harder than he'd ever had. Cursing in several languages, Vegeta turned to leave. He acknowledged 18 as he left, letting her know that she would have to close up.

He made it home without incident, something he almost regretted. But once inside the condo, he was free give in. He inhaled deeply of the human's musky scent that permeated the place. He didn't dare go to the bedroom, though. Too many... dreams. At one point, he had thought they were over, but it wasn't meant to be. Instead, they were worse. Much worse.

"Fuck," Vegeta hissed, stripping out of his recently uncomfortable, confining clothes and tossing them to wherever they wanted to lie. He stalked to the bathroom, his erection standing proudly, demanding attention. He tried to ignore it.

Last night had been the strangest dream ever. Whereas before, some of the dreams seemed to be a twisted version of his life under Lord Freeza, only with Kakarrot as ruler, the latest ones were... stranger still. When they had started, he had been disturbed and somewhat disgusted with them. Especially since most of them revolved around Yamcha, whom the prince never could tolerate. But over time, the disgust and intolerance had faded. Now the dreams left him confused. And other things. One dream had him fighting Recoom, a twisted version of that fight on Namek, only this one was in an arena. He was getting his ass kicked, again. Only, this time, instead of Kakarrot being the one to save him, it was Yamcha, which was strange because Yamcha had always been weaker than him. But the feelings of gratitude and thankfulness were stranger still. He had never felt that way about anyone stronger than him, always striving to exceed those that were better. Waking up after that dream had been difficult, as his body was racked with pain. After that, there were two nights of dreams that held nothing except the thought of a willing and able lover, something he didn't mind dreaming about as it didn't haunt his days. But then the dreams came back. The one last night... That one affected him more, forcing him to wake up, shivering and covered in sweat, aching with unsatisfied need, crying out for the scarred human who's scent was still in the pillows and curtains and carpet. Just thinking about the things in that one dream alone had him salivating with lust.

Even more disturbing, the dreams seemed so lifelike, so incredibly real. The taste of the blood in his mouth from when Recoom hit him. The sensation of having a tail again, and the mind numbing pleasure of someone touching that one spot at its base that never failed to bring him to his knees. The sound of Yamcha's heated voice whispering, 'You'd feel better inside of me. Moving as hard as you wanted to, making those come-eat-me, come-fuck-me noises.' And the emotions that assaulted him constantly, like street drugs that wouldn't let him get off their wild ride. All of it was causing him to dread going to sleep again.

Just thinking of some of the things that Yamcha said to him reminded Vegeta of how his personal love song sounded being sung... 'Damn. I want that,' Vegeta thought to himself as he stepped into the heated spray of water. He had once tried to sing it to Bulma, long ago when he had thought to marry and mate with the human woman. He had been foolish, and had decided to 'settle' for her, knowing that there was no real depth to their relationship. Upon hearing the song, she had turned in his arms, and demanded that he never sing it to her again, even without knowing what the reason for it was. It was too strange for her, she didn't like him speaking in a language she didn't know, and the song had no melody anyway. He never sang it to her again, didn't even bring the topic back up for discussion. He didn't blame her for not liking it. That didn't stop the throat-tightening ache that her rejection caused. Later, when she proposed marriage to him, he flat out refused. She couldn't truly accept -all- of him, so why should he bother to accept her proposal? His body had settled for her; the rest of him never would. And to think, it had started with his song and her disapproval of it. But in his dreams, Yamcha had loved it, and his soft voice crooned it to him perfectly, right into his heart.

"Fuck," Vegeta whimpered, the ache between his legs growing heavier and harder, if such a thing was possible. He collapsed to his knees before falling back against the tiles of the shower stall. Closing his eyes, he began to touch himself, remembering the sounds from his dreams, the feelings, the touches, and especially last night's dream. He hated his dreams. Hated them. In them, he was weak. And pathetic. And broken. ... And lucky. Because there wasn't a chance in hell that Vegeta would ever have anyone want him as much as his dream lover did. It was another reason he didn't want to go to sleep at night. Just one more chance to see what he could never have. A broken sob was all the sound he made as his seed splashed uselessly and unceremoniously with the water before flowing down the drain.

He rested there, allowing his heartbeat and breathing to return to normal as the water pelted down on him. He didn't have a clue what he was going to do when Yamcha returned, if he returned. He'd have to find his own place, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to afford anything as nice as Yamcha's home, and he'd be damned before he accepted any more charity from the blue-haired human woman. He would just have to pray that his club would support him enough to get a house.

He wanted it to happen soon. Because if he had to suffer through the dreams, and then wake up to the human's scent surrounding him, he knew he would go mad.