Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ouji-Sama Wo Oikakete ❯ Misuteta Saiyajin ( Chapter 2 )

Warning: This fic contains Yaoi (male/male relationships), so if you don't approve, please leave now.

Warnings for this chapter: Rape, violence, swearing.

All thoughts are in italics, flashbacks are indicated by asterisks and third-person POV.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Z-boys, they belong to Akira Toriyama. I just like playing with them, but if someone's willing to sell them to me… >)

Ouji-sama Wo Oikakete

Chapter 2: Misuteta Saiyajin (Discarded Saiyajin)

*

No!

*

Black eyes glinted down to where he stood, waiting in the centre of the Grand Tournament Arena. Vegeta sent a smirk and a slight toss of his head in return, turning his back on the crowded grandstand to lean casually against a central pillar festooned with flags and ribbons. Today was his coming-of-age celebration, and Jeice had been staring at him for quite some time. Vegeta knew that if he turned his head, the red-skinned fighter's attention would not have shifted. He could feel his gaze on his back, boring through blue-black ceremonial cloak and armour as if it were tissue paper. Never mind that several thousand so-called warriors already packed the battleground, staring at him, waiting for the event to begin. He scanned the crowd, looking for the presence of the two other remaining Saiyajin. There, Raditz, and further along, Nappa, his `caretaker' of 16 years. He stopped his roving eyes just short of Frieza's pavilion, a mass of purple satin billowing in the brisk night air, knowing that to look the bastard in the eye was to invite trouble. Not that I wouldn't mind a little action, he thought, beginning to get a bit piqued. Where is my blasted opponent? The answer arrived soon in the form of twin horn blasts drifting brazenly out over the open-air stadium. The echoing clamour and stomps of approval were almost sufficient to shift the loose dirt of the battle arena floor.

Vegeta grinned tightly in anticipation and straightened, throwing off his cloak. Everyone's attention was drawn to the massive metal doors, carved with filigree and the royal insignia in gold leaf, standing 30 feet tall at the other end of the Grand Tournament Arena. Slowly they swung open, revealing a hulking brute of a soldier, undoubtedly selected from one of Frieza's Elite Guard as a `test' for the Saiyajin Prince's strength, so far unfathomed by any but himself.

"Some test this will be!" Vegeta muttered. "The fool's knees are shaking." The rules were not to kill your opponent, but he was sure Frieza wouldn't mind a bit - or a lot - of bloodshed on such a fine night. The moon was almost full. Surely a good omen, he concluded smugly. Taking a smooth step forward, he ignored the assemblage and focused instead on Jeice once again, sending a tiny nod of acceptance with a wicked grin as garnish up at his appreciative audience. Pretending not to see the laughter and shoving of the more imbecilic members of the Ginyu Force, Vegeta turned once again to his craven adversary and crooked his finger confidently.

*

No! Stop it! I don't want to see!

*

Vegeta was suffocating. His body burned, the air was too thick to breathe. Sultry laughter curled through the darkness of his fogged brain, made him struggle to resurface from where he floundered in black waters. Grappling with the strangling sheets, Vegeta opened his eyes and blinked blearily. The grinning face of Jeice swam into view, startlingly close, causing the Saiyajin to lurch his head back involuntarily. His mouth was moving; Vegeta strove to hear his words over the buzzing in his ears.

"… liked that, didn't you? It was one of my special ones, without taste or smell. The boys and I thought…"

What? What was he saying? Something important…

"… slipped it into your drink. You made it nice and easy for me, Princeling, flitting around like that to your monkey friends after your great victory. I just wish Frieza had let me be the challenger, you wouldn't have gotten through that one with your skin so unmarked."

This wasn't right. This wasn't what Jeice was meant to be doing. I don't want this. He tried to speak through the fuzz in his mouth numbing his tongue, resulting in an incoherent sound. Jeice traced a finger over his shrinking flesh, and cupped his face in hands crimson as blood.

"Pale… and so pure. Did anyone ever tell you that half the company's been lusting after you? No, I suppose not. After all, you do belong to him."

Speech failing him, Vegeta tried to move only to discover the reason Jeice's face was so close was that he was resting half on top of him, pinning him to the mattress below a thick curtain of bone-white hair. An awkward seal-like flop did nothing to dislodge him, and served only to set the room to spinning nauseatingly above him. Jeice was still speaking, and tracing patterns on his burning skin.

"… should only last a short time, which means I don't have all night for you, little Prince. Let's get rid of these clothes, shall we? I know you must be hot…"

Smooth hands slid up under Vegeta's shirt, making him flinch and try to reel away. He managed to jerk his head from side to side and blurt out a strangled, "Nngha… No!"

Jeice tossed back his head and laughed. "No? How can you say no when your body so clearly says yes?" Humiliation and anger filled Vegeta, galvanising him to lash out at his assailant. His blow was weaker than a kitten's pat, and both arm and frustrated tears fell to the sheets.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? The drug I gave you was a natural Ki suppressant combined with tranquillisers and a little something that would make you more… Agreeable." Jeice demonstrated his meaning by reaching between them and grasping him so roughly it hurt.

"No!" Vegeta moaned painfully. "Stop it!"

"Not a chance, mate." He replied, laughing cruelly. "I've been waiting years for this and I'm not going to stop now! This way Frieza will never know, and you won't tell him, will you? Big, strong Saiyajin Prince reduced to nothing but a low-class whore by a member of the Ginyu Force!"

*

Don't make me see this! Not again! Not again!

*

The door to the room was slightly ajar, spilling light over the huddled form of the young Saiyajin. Scalding tears of shame and hatred spilled silently over his cheeks to dampen the floor where he lay crumpled like a discarded doll. After sating himself, Jeice had thrown Vegeta against the wall, laughing softly. Clothes hung from his light frame in tattered strips, his front smeared with the other's semen. He made no move to clean himself. Blank eyes stared dully at the wall. His tail flopped limply against the floor.

He could hear footsteps. They paused at the door to his prison, his torture chamber that reeked of Jeice and the still-lingering scent of his own cursed body's arousal. The heavy wooden door opened smoothly, in one fluid movement, flooding the small room with torchlight. Vegeta flinched, the fine muscles in his back rippling in the dimness. He knew who was here. He knew it by the dry, rustling sound of his skin, by the rasp of a reptilian tail against the stone floor, by the unmistakable footsteps of one who was absolutely confident in his supremacy over all. He knew even before Frieza's humourless chuckle reached his ears.

"Well well, what have we here, a little monkey Prince!"

Vegeta did not answer. He could feel Frieza's silent leer drape itself greedily over him where he lay curled against the corner wall. He couldn't mean to - Oh yes he could. Jeice had told him, had whispered in his unwilling ears what to expect. He had not taken Vegeta. He squeezed his eyes shut against hot tears of anger at his traitorous body. No, he had not been taken. That privilege was reserved for…

Frieza spoke again. "Well, my dear Vegeta, have you nothing to say for yourself? Whatever would you be doing in here, all alone and naked, no less?"

Sudden rage sparked in him. He knew! He knew everything that happened in his conquered empire; his elite fighters were forever under his watchful eye. Frieza was toying with him! Well, if he thought Vegeta would go quietly, he had another thing coming. I won't give him the fucking satisfaction!!

Vegeta locked his eyes on the wall inches from his face - pure white, except for where blood had spattered upon his impact with it - and pushed himself to his knees. His auburn tail awoke and roared a protest into his spine. Broken in several places, it hung unnaturally and brushed the floor as he rose to his feet to glare his defiance at Frieza. Standing cleared his head of the drug somewhat, but rage, shame, pain and hatred coalesced to throw all caution to the winds. He snarled at Frieza's open perusal of his nakedness, but made no futile move to cover himself.

"Well, aren't you bold? I see Jeice certainly enjoyed himself…" His voice turned into a deadly soft hiss. "I shall have to remember to punish him for not waiting his turn."

Vegeta's eyes strayed to the door. The only thing between himself and freedom was the changeling. He could feel his Ki trembling at the edge of his consciousness; it would come to his aid if called. Frieza noticed his glance and laughed, a cold, malevolent sound devoid of humour.

"Really, Vegeta. Do you think you could outsmart me? You are, after all, just a little monkey."

Rage sparked in Vegeta, lighting the blue flame of his Ki as he flung himself bodily at Frieza. Ignoring all pain, he drove his fist forward and felt a flood of satisfaction at the sound of it smashing into Frieza's impassive visage. He spun his leg high into the air - and almost overbalanced as his roundhouse kick met nothing but air. Suddenly pain shrieked through his nerves; Frieza had his tail! An arm appeared around his throat, locking off his breath, and a voice grated in his ear.

"Naughty monkey. You need to be taught how to behave!" The freezing fingers on his tail tightened, and Vegeta's groan was turned into a pained gurgle by the arm around his throat. He could feel delicate bones grinding together, nerve endings close to being crushed. He was not going to faint. He would not faint! He strained to see through the blackness bordering his vision and clawed at Frieza's arm around his throat, but its hand was locked in his spiked hair. Vegeta kicked backwards at his kneecaps, anything to be free… Frieza's arm shifted from his throat, allowing him blessed air, only to lock Vegeta's arm behind him in a grip icy as death. The changeling's tail snapped around to secure his other flailing arm, and he was suddenly kicked in the back of the knees and yanked to the ground.

"You goddamn tail-grabbing son of a bitch! Get the fuck off me!" Vegeta rasped, his face pressed against the rough stone floor, arms stretched nearly to breaking point. He felt Frieza's coldness above him and shuddered in revulsion.

"What language for one so young! I do so love it when they struggle, though…" At the sound of the lust in the tyrant's voice, Vegeta went mad, bucking wildly and summoning all his Ki. Curses as foul as any low-class soldier's poured from his lips, until he felt the kiss of metal at his throat.

"Vegeta," Frieza said pleasantly, "I hold at your throat a ceremonial dagger. Could you see it, you would recognise it as the one your father would have passed to you had he lived to see this day."

"You fucking whoreson, I'm going to rip your - " Vegeta quieted again at the feeling of the cold blade slicing shallowly into the soft flesh at the base of his jaw. His muscles tensed.

"Very good, Saiyajin. You learn quickly. Oh, and don't think that I would stop at taking your body after you had died. Even after death, you Saiyajin remain so very delightfully warm…"

*

No. This can't happen. I am the Saiyajin Prince!

Someone, anyone, Nappa, Raditz, help me!

… biting claws raking his back…

… hideous sound of his arm popping out of its socket…

… He choked on a shriek of agony, blinded by tears...

Please, no, stop it, please!

… Frieza fisted a hand in his hair, pulling his head back….

… felt something tear inside, could smell the stench of his own blood…

Blood…Can't see… Alone in the dark…

… Awoken by the twisting of his swollen arm, brought back to throbbing life by a white-scaled hand….

… cracking ribs, cracking sanity…

Not again, you bastard, not again…!

Over and over and over and over and over.

*

~ To be concluded…~