Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Saiya-jin Dreams Arc: Heaven in Hell ❯ Chapter 1

Saiya-jin Dreams Arc:

Heaven in Hell

 

Rating: NC-17

 

Warnings: Yaoi. VxR, Radditz POV. Lemon. Extremely sexed-up SSJ4 Vegeta. Angst, Sap at the end.

 

 

I sigh and wipe the sweat off my brow from my latest battle. Making sure there is no one around, I remove the camouflage from a small cave. My cave. My refuge. My hiding place. I quickly go inside, carefully replacing the camouflage, hiding this cave's very existence. It is time to bind my wounds and nap while my body heals.

 

After 50 years, I'm still here, still in Hell. Still paying the debt for the blood on my hands. But I'm getting there. I don't fight just to defeat those weaker than me anymore, quite an accomplishment for a Saiyan. I train, I fight in self-defense, and occasionally now, in the defense of others. I can kick Freiza's ass now, a fact of which I'm very proud. But I have not achieved the level of Super Saiyan. Perhaps it is part of my punishment? But no matter.

 

I find my stash of herbs and mix some of them with a little water to make a paste before placing it on the worst of the wounds, holding it in place with cobwebs collected from the cave.

 

I make my way to the back of the cave, settling down on my bed of soft grasses. I can feel the herbs taking affect already, numbing the wounds, slowing the bleeding, making me aware of how heavy and tedious my consciousness is. I have enough time to remove my clothing and curl comfortably on my bed before the last of my consciousness is relinquished and I slide into darkness.

 

The darkness swirls and moves, becoming a dark fog that clouds my mind. As it slowly recedes, I see my baby brother, glorious and powerful in his SSJ4 form, yellow eyes intense as they focus on their target. I am jealous of his power, of his glory, but only in a strange, distant manner. The jealousy is not touchable, not palpable.

 

The dark clouds recede further, and I see Vegeta, my liege lord and Prince, also in SSJ4 form, sparring with my brother.

 

Magnificent.

 

This is the word that echoes in my mind as I view him, eyes now an intense cobalt, the red fur accenting the auburn highlights in his spiked hair. I cannot help but admire the bulk and chisel of his compact body, shoulders broader for the muscle, chest and abs framed in that beautiful coarse fur, begging to be licked. His tail is, as usual, wrapped around his narrow waist, now seeming slimmer for all the added muscle. The blue jeans seem as though they are painted on, hugging the curves of his ass, down over brawny thighs, powerful calves, to the tips of booted feet.

 

Yes, I think `magnificent' sums it up quite nicely.

 

And then the dream shifts.

 

My brother is gone, and those piercing blue eyes are turned on me. Yet the emotion in them is not one of concentration or the calculating gaze of battle. I am pinned in place by his lust as he slowly descends and walks toward me. He reaches his hand out to me, and I take it, only to be pulled to him and my lips captured in a fiery kiss

 

The kiss is deep, intense, and I remember and re-experience the taste of him, as my body after over fifty long years relishes the feel of him pressed so close against me once again. I forgot how much he tastes like fire, as though he is the element personified.

 

He breaks the kiss and pulls away so he can look at me.

 

“Radditz…”

 

A hand snakes up to tangle in my hair and those blue, blue eyes are filled with wonder and amazement.

 

“Oh, Radditz.”

 

My lips are again claimed by his, his grip in my hair tightening, tongue pushing past my lips to taste my mouth as my hands wrap around his waist, sliding through the surprisingly soft fur there, my tail uncoiling from my waist to twine with his. He again breaks the kiss, only to trail bites down my jaw and neck as his hand cups and squeezes my ass.

 

I moan. I can't help it. It's been so long… so long. I moan almost continually, his lips still trailing over my skin, the hand in my hair relinquishing its hold to pinch and pull a hardened nipple as supple lips and sharp teeth tease the other. I slide my hands into thick spikes and slowly draw him away. He looks up at me, those eyes demanding an explanation.

 

“Let me worship you, my Prince.”

 

He is not happy. He wants to touch me, hold me, to ravish me, to eat me from the mouth down and throw me onto the ground and fuck me blind. But he stills, gives a slight nod, and allows me to touch him, to taste him, to rediscover him in all his glory.

 

I thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him deeply, lovingly in thanks. He responds in kind, and moans softly as I draw my lips away. But my lips do not leave his skin for long. They continue to touch him, kiss him, occasionally parting to let my teeth scrape against him as I work my way down his neck, running hands down over fur-covered shoulders and back, loving the texture and feel of the soft, red fur under my fingers.

 

My lips continue their downward trek, tracing along the edge of where skin meets fur, my nose unable to pull in enough of the smell of him, my tongue unable to get enough of the taste of him. By the Legendary, I could spend hours memorizing him with my tongue alone… But I know that he will not wait hours for me. Not right now, after so long. And so my lips continue downward, finding and suckling pebbly nipple, teeth nipping sharply only to have the pain soothed away by my lapping tongue. Hands slide down to caress slender waist, and mouth moves across brawny chest to lap and suckle at the other nipple. One hand slides down to rub the base of his tail and the musk glands underneath.

 

His hands fist in my hair as he moans and arches into me at the touch. He begins to musk heavily with the extra stimulation, scenting the air around us and making my fingers slick with the oil they produce. My lips release his nipple as I bring my fingers to my face, sniffing gingerly and almost swooning at the intoxicating scent before lifting them further to my lips and darting out a tongue to taste the oil there.

 

His eyes are fixed on me, or more accurately, on my fingers and the quick, darting motions of my tongue as I lap his essence from my fingers. I am tempted to kiss him again on the mouth, but I know the taste of his own musk on my tongue would push him over the edge, and my fun would end and really begin all too soon. Yes, I love the sweet, aching torture of foreplay. So I clean my fingers, gaze up at him lustily, and lick my lips zealously before returning my lips to their downward path.

 

Tongue sweeps over and memorizes the etched ridges of abdominal muscles framed with fur as one hand resumes its place teasing tail and musk glands, the other reaching down to kneed firm, rounded flesh. Reaching his belt line, I nuzzle his erection through his pants, hearing him hiss in pleasure above me.

 

I grin wickedly up at him before I begin removing his pants with my teeth, his erection eagerly springing free of its restraints. My hands move to pull off his pants and boots, before returning to their previous positions.

 

The scent of him nearly overwhelms me, and his length is in my mouth before I realize it, licking and sucking at him hungrily. My Prince is moaning with pleasure, his hands fisting in my long hair, his tail curling as those cobalt eyes, brimming with lust, gaze down at me intently.

 

“Radditz…” He whispers over and over. My name. My name falling from my Prince's lips over and over, his mantra. How I've missed hearing that, all of these years. Perhaps I am weak, and have always been, but there was no doubt about my loyalty, and my love for my Prince. And I continue to love him, his voice, his taste, entrancing me as I continue to move over his cock, sucking and licking, moaning around him as I feel him tense before he spills into my mouth.

 

He rests a moment before pulling away, using his grip on my hair to guide me to stand. He claims my lips in a heated kiss before turning to climb onto a luxurious four-poster bed. Funny I didn't notice it before.

 

I glance around his chambers, the multiple candles casting a soft, warm glow. The bed is hung with rich, red velvet curtains, with a red suede comforter and white silk sheets, which my Prince is currently sliding between, deep blue eyes watching me impatiently as I follow much too slowly for his liking.

 

The moment I finally slide between those opulent silk sheets, the fabric caressing my naked skin, he is on me, pressing me into the mattress, his lips claiming my own as his tongue claims my mouth. His tail twines around mine, and my legs part naturally for him, as though we had only been apart fifty hours rather than fifty years. Our lips part, and his hand reaches down to tweak my nipple as he settles against me, fur tickling my thighs as those blue eyes gaze into my black ones, penetrating my very soul with their searching gaze.

 

When we were together, when I was still alive, after being apart for missions, we would always make love like this, face to face, just gazing at each other, taking each other in. Living as mercenaries, especially as Saiyans on Freiza's ship, we knew we could die at any time, and in this way we paid tribute; we appreciated that through the graces of whatever deity, we were still alive, still together.

 

I prefer to be on my stomach, my ass arched back into where he would be kneeling behind me, thrusting hard and fast, his hands gripping my hair and pulling my head back, arching me further into him, allowing him deeper. Yet I always looked forward to this one return session, where we gaze into each others' eyes and are just thankful for again being together, alive, and not separated by death.

 

His hand roams further, down over abs to trace my erection, making me hiss with desire, then whimper with disappointment when he does not caress it further. I feel his lips and teeth at my neck, kissing, licking, nipping. I moan and arch into him, loving the feel of him, the smell of him, the sensation of fur against my skin. I am silenced as two fingers are placed to my lips and I immediately take them into my mouth, bathing them with my tongue, feeling him again grow hard as I arch and writhe under him.

 

His mouth continues to torture me, slowly working down the cords of my neck to my collarbone, then over to the shoulder. I feel his fingers pull away, and as his lips finally, finally reach my nipple, I feel those fingers press against the base of my tail.

 

“Oh, Legendary…” I breathe. It's been so long and I want him so badly. “Please,” I whimper, “My Prince, please take me.” I've missed him so much, and he is so beautiful, so glorious in this form.

 

His teeth nip at my nipples, one of his hands resting on my hip, the other relentlessly stroking and massaging the musk glands at the base of my tail, making me buck under him, moaning. The tip of his tail whispers across my parted lips before delving between them, and I start licking and sucking at it greedily. The hand on my hip slowly glides down my thigh, then back up and over to where his fingers wrap themselves firmly around my dripping erection. The luscious tail in my mouth is momentarily forgotten as I moan in pleasure. Two fingers, slick with oil from my musk glands, press against my entrance as he starts stroking my cock, and I am reduced to begging.

 

“Sire, please… please take me. Fuck me. I want you so badly… Please, my Prince…”

 

Those slick fingers enter me, and I lose the ability to form words. Lips and teeth release my nipple and capture my lips, swallowing my impassioned cries. Our tongues twine, and I again savor his taste. My lips are released as fingers are withdrawn and a whimper escapes my lips. He chuckles darkly as he positions himself at my entrance, nudging gently - teasing me.

 

I admire him as he looms over me, red rimmed sapphire eyes, clouded with lust gazing down at me, the longer auburn-black hair, all that red fur. So powerful, the pinnacle of our race, My Prince. Our tails twine tightly, and he slowly pushes into me, filling me to brimming, slowly pressing until he is fully sheathed and I am quivering in pleasure.

 

I draw him down to me, pressing my lips to his neck. “Yes…” I whisper. “Take me… I love you.”

 

His arms wrap tighter around me for a moment, and then he begins to move, slowly at first, then faster, harder, as I wordlessly beg for it. My Prince - my one and only love. I move my lips down to his shoulder, then pull away as I catch a whiff of… my brother? I look at his shoulder, and through the fur I can clearly see the scar that Kakarott's teeth left.

 

My heart nearly stops. My Prince, my Vegeta, Marked, mated to… Kakarott?! NO! My mind screams. My heart sinks. Anguish rakes my body; he can never be mine, now. But I can still be his. I always have been.

 

“Mark me,” I growl in his ear. I feel him pause, and those blue eyes pin me with their gaze. “You may belong to another, but I will always be yours. Mark me. Please, my Prince.”

 

He stares at me a moment before his gaze softens, and he gives a slight nod before kissing me deeply, sweetly, lovingly. My legs are shifted and he starts thrusting again, hard and deep. The angle has changed, and I cry out as stars dance in my vision. He hits that spot again, and I arch into him, breathless.

 

“Radditz…” he whispers, his dark, husky voice making me shiver. “You are mine.” He thrusts again, and pain increases my pleasure as his teeth sink into my shoulder.

 

I howl in ecstasy laced with pain, pain that I cannot return the favor. I would not dare to defile his mate's Mark. And so with a single, sharp canine, I pierce the furred skin in the center of that Mark, moaning as my tastebuds are overwhelmed with the taste of rich dark, Saiyan blood.

 

Vegeta starts thrusting faster, harder, purring low in his throat, drawing purrs and growls and moans from my own throat as I am driven higher, ensconced in the smell, taste, feel, and sound of my Prince, my love. I can feel his pleasure, and it only serves to further ignite my own. His hand again reaches down to stroke my cock. He strokes fully, two, three times, thrusting deeply, and with that ambrosial blood coating my tongue, I throw myself into oblivion and roar my completion, Vegeta's own roar echoing in my ears.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta sat straight up in bed, a name falling from his lips. “Radditz…”

 

“'Geta? Are you okay?” Goku sat up groggily beside him, a soothing hand reaching up to his shoulder, to be pulled away at unexpected wetness. “You're bleeding.”

 

Confusion and concern were obvious in his voice, and he leaned over to lap the blood away, frowning at its presence. Jealousy flared and he growled in rage before he could stop himself as he noticed exactly where the blood was coming from, and the scent associated with it. But that wasn't possible… There had to be something wrong with his nose. The scent on Vegeta's shoulder, and all over him, belonged to his brother, to Radditz. But Radditz was dead… He followed Vegeta's blank gaze and gasped.

 

Vegeta stared at the ghostly form in the center of the room. “Radditz?”

 

* * *

 

I know I'm no longer dreaming, but I'm no longer in Hell, either. I am still in Vegeta's room, yet he is sitting up in bed with Kakarott, staring at me. I am naked, save for my mane of hair, and pleased to see I did leave a Mark, albeit a small one, on my Love.

 

`Come, Radditz. It is time.'

 

I hear King Yama's voice in my head, and know I am out of time. My punishment is over, this… glorious gift has been given, and now I must go. I kneel in Saiyan fashion, never taking my eyes off Vegeta. “Good-bye, my Prince. May I be honored by the Gods to serve you in all of my lives.” And with that, I feel myself being pulled away, losing sense of self as I am reborn into a new life.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta watched as the ghostly form pledged his soul to his service before fading away. “May the Gods grant your wish,” he replied formally to the fading spectre.

 

“Vegeta? Was that…?” Goku stared at the now empty space.

 

“He's gone.”

 

Goku was nearly overwhelmed by the sadness, the feeling of loss radiating from Vegeta's side of the bond. “'Geta, are you okay?” he asked as he pulled his mate into his arms.

 

Vegeta told him of his dream. “He was the first person I ever allowed myself to love. I finally claimed him, and now he is gone forever. He cannot be reborn Saiyan; we are the last.”

 

Goku said nothing, and did the only thing he could—he held his mate close and stroked his hair, soothing, saying nothing as the tears slid down Vegeta's cheeks, as his mate mourned.

 

~Owari~