Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Sweet Scent of Passion ❯ Gay? ( Chapter 3 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Orchideater 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Comedy | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.31.2005 | Updated On: 04.27.2006 | Pages: 6 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 2.2K | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Comedy | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.31.2005 | Updated On: 04.27.2006 | Pages: 6 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 2.2K | Status: Completed
The Sweet Scent of Passion
by Orchideater
Warnings: NC17, yaoi, het, yuri Y/Gk, Gk/B, Gk/CC, Y/G/B/CC, implied G/V, and enough Y/B bickering to make it screamingly obvious why they broke up.
Disclaimer: DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees
Summary: G/CC/Y/B This is a *Dragonball* comedy sex fic. You have been warned.
A/N- Warning! Yamcha/Goku lemon ahead! Sorry, this took longer than I expected to post. *sweatdrops* Sometimes I just can’t stop picking at my stories, especially the lemons. A big thank you to all who reviewed chapters 1+2!
The Sweet Scent of Passion
Chapter 3: Gay?
Bulma snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe Goku has low hormone levels or something. I could run a few tests on him to see if he could benefit from medication.”
“Oh, yes, please, Bulma-san! I-It might be a medical problem.” Chichi breathed a sigh of tremendous relief.
“OR, he might be gay. You have to face that possibility, Chichi.”
The dark-haired girl shook her head stubbornly. “No, no he’s not. I can’t have a gay husband, I want lots and lots of kids!”
“We’ll just have to test him. Yamcha, go over there and make out with Goku,” she demanded.
“WH-WHAT?!”
---
-
“You heard me. Get naked and go see if you can turn him on.”
“B-But I’m not gay!”
“I know you’re not gay, but do it anyway.”
“No!” he squealed, voice breaking. “Nobody said anything about that when we came here. I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this!”
“God, you’re such a prude, Yamcha. I’m not asking you to fuck him, just get naked and touch him and stuff. You’re a good-looking guy. If he likes men, it’ll arouse him. Go on!”
“Well, touching a guy doesn’t arouse me. I’m not gay,” he repeated stubbornly.
“We all know that. I’m asking you a favor here, is it too much to ask? Do it now, or you’ll get none for a month.”
“Oh, like you could last that long either. M-Maybe I’ll freeze you out,” he sulked, though she could see the fear in his eyes.
“Oh, right, don’t make me laugh! Come on, quit stalling.” She walked up and proceeded to yank his T-shirt over his head.
“Wha? Hey! Bulma!”
“It’s Goku. He’s totally naive, and he’s your friend. Just look at him– he’s no threat to you.”
“B-But he’s still a guy.”
Bulma’s patience had reached its limits. “Go do it NOW, mister! Unless you really are insecure about your sexuality. Go, go!” She started smacking him and kicking at him around the ankles.
“Alright, alright! God. I’ll try.”
“Take your pants off, then.”
“I was going to, geez! I don’t need a coach.” Shaky fingers unbuttoned the fly and he pushed the jeans to the floor.
“The underwear, too.”
“No! They’re staying on. You kept your panties on, I’m keeping mine on. Underwear, I mean,” he said, blushing painfully.
After one last parting glare, he wobbled over to where Goku sat recovering on the floor, hands still shielding his groin.
“H-Hey, Goku,” he began, cringing at how lame that sounded. He crouched down to Goku’s level but avoided his eyes. “You okay, now?”
“Yeah, I’m alright.”
“Why don’t you come sit on the bed here with me?” Yamcha took his arm and helped him up, and led him over to the bed. They sat down in the middle, Indian style, facing each other. Yamcha dawdled for five entire minutes settling himself into the perfect position, trying to calm his pounding heart and stop the rivers of sweat from pouring down his body.
Never in his life had he been so embarrassed. Sex itself still made him nervous, and here he was, forced into a homosexual encounter by his girlfriend, who stood watching his every move with another woman only feet away. He must have done something very wrong in a past life.
Goku only stared at him blankly.
Several times he tried to speak and no words came out, making him look like a fish out of water. He finally cleared his throat noisily.
“O-Okay, Goku. Um... Hi. Well, um, Bulma wants me to see if you’d rather be with me instead of her or Chichi. Th-That is, I mean, s-see if you’d rather be touched by a man, f-for, um–”
“You mean now you’re going to be touching me all over?” Goku cut in, exasperated. “What is it with you guys? Why’s this so important? I don’t like all these touchy-feelies.”
“N-Now, just take it easy, Goku,” he said, putting on a weak smile and raising up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. Relax, we’re old friends, here.”
Goku relaxed considerably at that, but Bulma was fit to be tied. “Don’t tell him that, Yamcha! What are you just sitting there for? Hurry up, we don’t have all night.”
“Stop pushing me. You’re always pushing me!”
“You need a push, or you’d never get anything done.”
“Well, maybe I dig my heels in because I don’t like to be pushed!”
“Guys, please don’t fight,” Chichi pleaded, tugging on Bulma’s arm just as she was preparing to really lay into Yamcha.
She always does this! Yamcha snarled to himself. Yamcha drive me here, take me shopping, carry my bags, Yamcha cut your hair, Yamcha wear this, Yamcha wear that. I’ll show her– I’ll make Goku splooge so hard it hits the opposite wall!
“Dammit, why don’t you guys go out into the hall,” he snapped. “You’re making me nervous!”
“Freaking fine, you jerk.” Bulma grabbed Chichi and stomped over to the door. As she threw it open Roshi fell into the room.
“Ack! Why you– you old pervert! Were you watching through the keyhole that whole time?!”
“Hey, how am I supposed to keep on top of the situation if I don’t have all the facts?”
Bulma chased him out into the hallway and slammed the door behind them. Muffled stomping, shouting, and clattering could be heard from rooms away.
“God, women are scary,” Yamcha said, shaking his head with dismal resignation. “Or maybe it’s just Bulma.” After the ruckus outside faded, he turned back to Goku with a somewhat renewed sense of confidence. “Well, that’s better. Let’s just talk for a minute, okay, Goku?”
“Okay.”
“I know you’re sick of ‘touchy-feelies’ right now, but we need to figure out what’s going wrong between you and Chichi, okay? ‘Cause it’s important. Can you be patient with me and put up with it a little while longer, please?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Okay, good. Umm,” Yamcha struggled for a place to start. “Why didn’t you like what Bulma and Chichi were doing to you?”
“I was supposed to like that?”
“Er, yeah. Most guys love it when a pretty naked woman touches them. What didn’t you like about it?”
“I just didn’t. I don’t like it when people touch me too much.”
“Did someone touch you in a way you didn’t like when you were a kid?”
“No.”
Well, that rules out child abuse, he thought. “So when you say you don’t like a lot of touch, you mean... it annoys you? There’s no fear involved?”
“I’m not afraid of that! It just bugs me, yeah, cause they’re being rude.”
Yamcha gazed at him quizzically. Goku had never complained about hugs, or roughhousing, or minor touches before. Only the intimacy seemed to bother him. Perhaps his many years alone living and training in the wilderness were to blame.
“Why do you think it bugs you?”
“Well, Chichi and Bulma– I don’t get it. I don’t know what they want from me, and then they get mad like I’ve done something wrong.”
“You don’t like it at all to have a naked woman on or under you?”
Goku fumbled helplessly for words. “Well, I... There’s something about it that... deep in the back of my head is telling me something, but it’s just not right... I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it! What am I supposed to be feeling?”
“W-We’re trying to... I’m going to try to show you.” Yamcha felt a wave of sympathy toward the frustrated young man. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to show Goku how beautiful, how exhilarating, how cathartic sex could be.
Chichi’s timid and gentle approach hadn’t worked, neither had Bulma’s steamroller method. Maybe he needed something in-between, and improvised to fit.
“Goku, just take a deep breath and relax. Forget about the girls for a minute. I’m–” He paused and swallowed. “Do you mind if I touch you? Anytime you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”
Goku considered this for a moment. “Well, alright.” He seemed a bit more accepting of the situation.
“Let’s try a kiss, okay?” Yamcha scooted forward, his nervousness creeping back over him again like slithering snakes.
“C-Close your eyes and tilt your head up, huh?”
Goku did as requested, long dark lashes meshing together over high cheekbones. His face grew slack in relaxation, and lips parted slightly.
Yamcha blushed further, stricken by the amount of innocence in that trusting countenance. Just pretend he’s a girl, he urged himself, leaning down until their lips met.
Just a brief, warm press, simple and chaste. He pulled back and Goku opened his eyes.
“See? Nothing wrong with that, right?”
Goku cracked a smile. “No, that wasn’t so bad.”
“Okay, let’s try it again. Open your mouth a bit this time, and we can try, um, ‘tongue wrestling’.”
“Okay!” Goku quickly closed his eyes and tilted his head again, more interested now that it involved a game.
Yamcha kissed him, and dared to venture his tongue forward to stroke the other’s. Goku, however, took this as his cue to forcefully pin the caressing tongue with his own. Yamcha pulled back with a meep.
“Gotcha, Yamcha!” he laughed.
“Uh, heh-heh. Yeah, you sure did.”
He cocked his head, confused at Yamcha’s frazzled expression. “Was that wrong?”
“Uh... D-Don’t make it into a competition, Goku. In kissing nobody ‘wins.’ Think of it as a give and take, a push and pull. You want to move with your partner, not against them.”
This didn’t have the same appeal as a fighting game, but intrigued him nonetheless.
“Ready to try again? I’m going to try touching you on the back and arms and stuff, okay? Just some simple caresses.”
Goku nodded, already leaning forward for the kiss. Yamcha held him lightly by the shoulders and leaned in, brushing their lips together delicately before pressing harder and exploring with his tongue. Goku awkwardly attempted to follow the man’s instructions about “push and pull,” but still ended up overdoing it.
“Not so hard, Goku,” Yamcha mumbled against his mouth. “This isn’t a fight. Just move with me.” Goku relaxed and improved considerably this time, responding to the teasing, guiding strokes of the older man’s tongue instead of fighting against him.
Yamcha moved one hand to stroke the wild shock of hair, while the other hand caressed his arm and back, pulling them closer together. His nervousness had all but vanished, his confidence burgeoning.
This isn’t so bad at all, he thought. Just like with a girl.
Better actually. Goku wasn’t so damn demanding as Bulma, didn’t gaze down at him with those superior eyes that always seemed to say “I know so much more than you.” Here he felt like a teacher, and Goku the willing student. He actually had expertise in this area that Goku did not, and could teach him something.
He pulled back, and those huge dark eyes searched his face. Goku’s lips had grown rosy and slightly swollen.
“Nice, huh?” he ventured.
“Uh-huh. So what now? Was I doing better? I want to do it the best I can.”
Yamcha eyed him shrewdly. He still thought of this as a game, not an erotic experience. A glance at the young man’s lap told him that the closeness was not having the desired effect.
“Still not turned on that much, huh?”
“Turned on?”
“Hmm.” He reached for Goku’s manhood. “Maybe if I–”
“Hey, no,” Goku protested, twisting away. “That’s private.”
“Since when are you so modest about your parts, Goku? When you were a kid you didn’t think twice about streaking or giving ‘pat-pat’ to total strangers.”
“Well, I don’t care if people see it. Pat-pat was just a tap, and Bulma would get so mad when I did that, I thought– and when I trained under Kami he told me my parts were a private area, and when I get punched there it hurts more than any other area, and I don’t understand why you guys keep wanting to grab me there.”
“Well, it’s supposed to feel good, Goku. When you’re with a lover it’s okay for them to touch your privates.”
Judging by Goku’s hesitation, it wasn’t the time to press the matter. “Alright, let’s just hold off on that a bit. I want to try something else.”
Yamcha shifted, readjusting his position, and began to raise his ki level. “I was thinking, maybe because you’ve become so powerful, you need more power to stimulate you, you know? Like you’ve become immune to normal levels. It’s just a theory, but let’s try this.”
He rubbed his hands together, and the soft golden glow of ki emitted from between them.
“I’m gonna keep raising my power level ‘til it’s pretty high, and I’m gonna manifest some ki in my hands here so when I touch you you’ll be caressed by the energy as well. Sound good?”
Goku nodded, quietly watching the light radiate from his friend’s palms.
“Close your eyes and concentrate on the feeling. Just relax all over and we’ll see how this goes.”
The lids fell shut and Goku sat placidly, awaiting whatever was to come.
Yamcha stared at the beautiful boy in wonder. He still couldn’t get used to the idea of Goku as an adult. For so long he’d stayed so small and childlike, hardly any different from the rowdy imp he’d met in the desert so long ago, the little boy so naive he couldn’t tell one gender from the other.
Now he was a grown man, and the sudden change was disconcerting. The little shrimp had doubled in size, grown muscular and relatively tall, and yet he still retained a boyish softness about the face, a skinniness about the neck that despite his warrior’s toughness made him seem almost tender. Yamcha suspected that even at the age of 18, he still wasn’t done growing. Unusual, but then everything about him was unusual.
Goku sat before him perfectly relaxed, perfectly trusting– perfectly vulnerable. The strongest being on Earth had placed himself in the hands of his old friend, and Yamcha felt overwhelmed by the responsibility. Had he ever been trusted so completely, and with so much?
The simple gesture touched him more than he ever could have expected.
Goku, he thought, I won’t take your trust lightly. I know I’ve made no great accomplishments to rival yours, know I haven’t been strong enough to be of any help when it really counted, but... I swear I’ll help you in this way, at least.
Trembling hands reached for the still figure.
Goku flinched ever so slightly as warm thumbtips pressed into the center of his forehead. They parted slowly, traveling in opposite directions over the expanse of his brow, the ki leaving behind a tingling trail in its wake.
Strong fingers joined them, trailing along in a feathery glide. The glowing pads slid down his temples, circled around under the eyes, then gently traced over the delicate skin of the eyelids. They reversed course to travel down the bridge of his nose, tapping playfully at the tip.
This face, this body– so different from the Goku he’d known. He felt like a blind man identifying a person for the first time, his exploring hands solidifying that touch-image into memory. A rediscovering among friends took place.
One hand moved off to cradle his cheek, then strayed toward the tender lobe of the ear, while the other traced swollen, ruddy lips. They parted, as if to admit entrance, and the fingers left a ki-enhanced kiss upon them before moving on.
Both hands slid down his neck, fingers splaying over cords and tendons. They skimmed down his arms, over powerful biceps and strong forearms, till they met the hands resting lightly upon his knees. Yamcha grasped them and held them up, rubbing the palms with his thumbs and then lacing their fingers together. Goku opened his eyes and gazed at him drunkenly.
“This feel good?”
“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly. “You do this for Bulma, Yamcha?”
“Sometimes. But usually she’s pretty impatient and wants to get right to the heavy stuff,” he said, noticing that Goku’s breathing had grown heavier. Finally, a real reaction. So far, so good.
Goku closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of those fingers that skimmed back up his arms and drifted down his chest. Yamcha pressed his palms flat against either side of Goku’s chest, long fingers curving over the thick muscle, palms shielding each nipple. He let loose a shivering pulse of ki, stronger than before, into that warm body. Goku jolted with a harsh gasp, his breathing growing faster and more erratic.
“Doing okay?”
A vigorous nod and heaving chest were his answer. He leaned in and began kissing gently along Goku’s face and neck, and Goku arched to allow him better access, placing his hands tentatively upon the older man’s shoulders. The questing hands moved downward, raking over his tight abdomen, then smoothing in random patterns over his back... moving down his waist to the base of his spine...
“Ahh-AH!” Goku cried out, arcing like a bow.
Yamcha pulled back in alarm, not expecting such a violent reaction. “Wh-What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”
Goku’s head still spun with wild sensation. “Ahh... No...”
He took Yamcha’s hands and placed them back where they had stopped. “That felt– felt amazing. D-Do it again, w-with the ki, it was– it was– ahh, wow.”
Yamcha flared the ki in his hands and cautiously felt around Goku’s lower back, craning over his shoulder to try and see. He knew he’d found the spot again as Goku let out a sharp cry of pleasure.
“This feels good?” he teased, quirking a smile.
“Ahh! Yeah, yes! Nnnnnhh...”
“Goku...” He concentrated and determined that the spot he was touching was a circular spot faintly different from the surrounding skin, the skin irregular and raised like scar tissue. “Goku, this is your tail scar! Does that really feel good for you?”
“Hhhhm...”
“I guess that was a dumb question. Strange. Here I’d have thought it would hurt you,” he mumbled to himself, circling the scar lightly with his fingers. “I wonder why...”
A firm press into the center of the scar and Goku cried out, arching into the other man’s body.
“Wow, that’s one hell of a hot spot.” Yamcha shifted backward and moved his hands down onto Goku’s hips to give him a reprieve from the intense sensation, only to realize that a massive hard-on had been jabbing him in the stomach and he hadn’t even noticed.
He blushed furiously at the sight, but embarrassment turned to a smug pride as he realized that he’d accomplished what neither of the girls had been able to. This could work yet.
Goku’s eyes opened to slits and that flushed face stared up at him to see why he’d stopped. “Yamcha, I– I–” he stuttered between hard breaths, unable to put voice to a need he couldn’t understand. “I need– I–”
“C’mere, Goku,” Yamcha said softly. After carefully turning Goku around, he positioned him between his own bent legs and pulled him up against his body, back to front, then looped an arm around Goku’s chest and delivered a soothing rub to that hot flesh. He pressed his knees inward, hoping the closeness and feeling of support would be a further comfort to his friend.
Once Goku was secure he caressed his shoulders and neck, adding a kiss now and then, and lowered the amount of expelled ki in his right hand until it glowed only faintly.
“Goku, I’m gonna try stroking your cock now, okay?” he murmured in his ear. Goku granted permission with a nod and Yamcha touched the hot skin gingerly, experimentally, then wrapped his hand around the thick shaft. A small shudder ran up the length of Goku’s body.
Embarrassment had worn away, replaced with a detached fascination. He’d never held another man’s cock before, never seen another man squirming in pleasure, much less from his touch. He traced a finger around the full head, over the eye, up the pulsing veins crisscrossing the surface. Goku’s breathing sped up further at the gentle exploration. Yamcha raised the ki in his palm before again taking hold and beginning to stroke slowly and steadily, earning a choked whimper from Goku.
Yamcha pressed kisses into his jawline and ear. “You’re really hung, you know that, Goku?” he breathed, chuckling slightly. “I always used to be kind of proud of my size, but damn, you put me to shame.”
Three kisses later, Yamcha realized Goku had gone stiff and quiet as though he were resisting. “What’s the matter?”
“Why would you want me to hang?” he asked, frowning.
“Why–?” Yamcha’s brain reeled as he struggled to understand Goku’s logic. “Gah!” He laughed and dropped his forehead onto Goku’s shoulder.
“Goku, one of these days we have to get together for a beer and I’ll tell you all about slang words. I don’t mean hanging-from-the-gallows hung, I mean–” he raised his head and twisted to look Goku in the face. “Goku, when you say a guy is hung, it means he’s got a... big penis.”
“Oh.” Another short silence. “That’s a good thing?”
“Of course it’s a good thing! It means you get bragging rights. You know, in the locker room you get to say stuff like, ‘All ladies shake their thing for the man with the swing,’ and your buddies are supposed to come back with things like ‘The bigger they are, the quicker they fall,’ and ‘It’s the wind in the sails, not the size of the boat, haw-haw-haw.’ Y’know... dumb stuff like that.” Goku had begun to slide away from him, so he readjusted their positions, stroking more firmly now.
“Ungh! Hahh... What locker room?”
“Look, I’ll explain it to you later,” he rasped, squirming uncomfortably. Goku writhed and began to emit needy sighs as he increased the ki in his hand again. The lustful noises filling the air and the repetitive brush of Goku’s firm ass across his groin had become impossible to ignore. No matter how he shifted in place, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable again, or to cool off.
Yamcha glanced down between their bodies and was mortified to find that he was hard as well, his shaft pressed up against his belly and the head distending the elastic band of his underwear.
Turned on by a man– his life really was falling apart. No sense worrying about it now when they had come this far, though. Yamcha took several deep, steadying breaths and decided to move on to his finishing move.
“Stay with me, Goku. I’ve got an idea.” He wrapped one arm around the heaving, panting teenager and held him close, and held the other hand palm up in the air to his side. Goku whimpered at the lack of sensation on his cock but was placated by the ki-imbued hand rubbing his stomach, running a line up and down his pleasure trail.
Yamcha clenched his teeth, cast a fierce gaze of concentration upon his upturned hand.
“So ki dan!”
The ki bullet sprang up from his palm, hovering above his hand and spinning crazily at breakneck speed, crackling and sparking with energy. With a clench of the fingers and narrowing of the eyes, he shrank the glowing orb down to the size of a ping pong ball, pleased with the more delicate control he’d achieved over the technique since the last tournament. He removed his hand, carefully letting it hover on its own in the air, then stabbed his first two fingers upward in command.
“Tsuo!”
The ball sprang to life and leapt onto Goku, who gasped as the intense point of energy touched his skin. It streaked a mad path over his body and left a streamer of light in its wake, whirling round his limbs, jittering over the muscles of his stomach and chest, thumping and sliding over his back and teasing his neck and ears.
It flashed over the tail spot and Goku screeched, Yamcha moaning as well as the orb brushed by his member and Goku bumped up against him. He pushed down the confining underwear and freed his erection, pulled Goku tight against him so movement of the hard cock could massage his tail spot.
Goku moaned loudly as the ki bullet dallied in a zigzag pattern over his front, teasing the nipples and navel. Using the last of his senses, Yamcha snapped the ki ball off his friend’s body, forcing it to hover nervously in the air before them. Precum oozed steadily from the younger man’s cock– he was close.
Goku, if this doesn’t make you splooge, nothing will. “Hsss...”
He pinched his hand together, then stiffly and slowly separated fingers and thumb. The ki ball flattened correspondingly. He made a stab upward with the first two fingers, then parted them, and a hole appeared in the center of the disc, growing wider until the disc had become a spinning ring instead. Yamcha smirked, and with a flick of his wrist sent the ring soaring toward them again.
“Enjoy, Goku.”
The ring slowed as it came toward Goku, centered on its target and slowly lowered itself down onto his aching cock.
“Aiiiaa-ahhh! AH! Ah, God!” Goku bucked violently, hands clenching and twisting spastically in the air before gnarling in the sheets at his sides so tightly the fabric shredded.
Yamcha laid kisses upon the back of his neck, stroked his chest and thrust rhythmically up against his tail spot, losing himself in his own pleasure and thrilling in the screams of ecstasy from his partner. “Hahhh... hahhh.”
The ki ring spun crazily, traveling slowly up and down the length of his shaft, its vertical motion gaining in speed. Overloading him with sensation.
“Ahhh! Ah– Yamcha, I’m gonna– I’m gonna burst!”
“It’s okay, Goku. Let it happen,” he ground out. “Don’t hold back.”
Through harsh, heaving breaths, a rattling growl rose up within Goku, making his entire ribcage vibrate. He grabbed the arm holding him, eyes wild, his body shaking convulsively with the effort it took to resist what he wanted. A thin, high-pitched whimper of desperation keened from his throat.
The emotion behind that lust-filled whimper broke something in the older man, and with a strangled sigh he burst against Goku’s back.
Yamcha slumped against him, vaguely apprehensive of what he knew was coming but too woozy with the high of orgasm to care. He could take a little pain, for Goku.
Lips of an open, trembling mouth reached for him. “Yamcha, I have to– I have to– I have to–”
“It’s okay, Goku,” he panted.
Goku thrashed his head back and forth, choking on his words. “You’ll get mad.”
“I won’t. Do it Goku, take what you need. Do it. Do it!”
Jaws slammed down upon his arm like an iron trap, teeth sinking in halfway to the bone. Yamcha gasped and bit his lip against the searing pain as those possessive teeth drove in again and again.
A shudder ran the length of Goku’s body, and he let loose a muffled scream against Yamcha’s arm as orgasm wracked through him in waves. The ki ring exploded in a thousand sparks of light, and with a convulsive jolt he shot an arc of molten white through the air to splatter against the headboard.
Spent, Goku slumped forward, still clutching the offered arm. Yamcha held onto him tightly to prevent him from falling, though he was almost ready to swoon himself. He peered down and saw Goku mindlessly licking the wounds he’d caused, his eyes unfocused and glassy.
Minutes passed in silence as both men recovered. Finally the drowsy licks slowed and stopped, and the younger man looked up, consciousness bleeding back into his eyes.
“Wow,” he breathed. “That was– that was really awesome. That feeling... that’s what you guys were trying to show me all this time?”
Yamcha nodded, giving him a small smile. “Well, at least we know that all your parts work,” he said, running a hand through the spiky black hair. “You just need a little more stimulation than most.”
“I guess,” he trailed off. “Yamcha?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for showing me.”
Yamcha grinned. “No problem, kid.”
“So, can we do it again?”
“Ah, well, I-I don’t know...”
A tormented wail interrupted their tender moment. “WAAAHHH! My husband is gay!!!”
Yamcha nearly hit the ceiling, and instantly hid himself under the covers.
The group outside that had been taking turns peeking through the keyhole decided it was safe to come in. Chichi had fetched a bathrobe for herself and let Bulma have the sheet they’d been sharing.
Bulma gave her boyfriend a disapproving glare. “Oh, my god, Yamcha, did you really just cream all over Goku’s back?”
His head whipped back to take in the full extent of the mess he’d made and then he frantically wiped it off with the comforter, grinning and sweating sheepishly. “Uh, I-I–”
“I can’t believe this. I’m dating a fruit!”
“This was all your idea!” he bellowed. “What did you expect me to do?!”
“You were supposed to show him. You weren’t supposed to enjoy it.”
“I-I’m not gay!”
“Even though you just splooged for a man?”
“Augh! It was all your– you’re the one who– ahh, just leave me alone!” Yamcha stumbled off the bed and ran to the corner. He crouched there in total dejection, a hundred imaginary “GAY” signs hanging over his head in accusation.
The girls ignored him and began drilling Goku.
“I told you he was gay,” Bulma declared. “What was the deal with all that biting, Goku?”
Chichi sobbed and smacked him repeatedly with her fists. “Goku, how could you! Why didn’t you tell me you were gay before we got married?! How can you humiliate me like this?”
“Ow! Hey! What’s ‘gay’?”
“Oh, get real, Goku!”
“Goku, why?!”
“Now, you girls just knock it off,” Roshi said sharply, ending their tirades. “Don’t go jumping to any conclusions. It seemed to me the boy was only turned on by the ki manipulation, not by Yamcha.”
“You actually paid attention? Huh, I’m surprised you were doing anything besides ogling our asses out there!”
“An old guy like me knows how to multitask.” He ignored Bulma’s fuming and stepped up to the bed, all business. “Goku, was it Yamcha that got you excited just now, or was it the ki in his touch?”
“Oh, the ki stuff,” he answered immediately.
Chichi ran up to Yamcha and dragged him out of the corner.
“Yamcha! You have to show me how to use ki like that. That thing, that ball of light that really drove him crazy– you have to teach me that!”
“The so ki dan? But that takes years of training to learn.”
“Years?! I don’t want to have to train for years just to make my husband want me! I want to be a mother! I only trained and entered the budokai to impress Goku. I want a bay-beeee! I want one right now!”
The others looked at each other helplessly. “Well,” Bulma said slowly, “Goku, do you think you could do that ki-touch to yourself in order to get turned on, and then have sex with Chichi?”
“Um...” Goku tried to picture the logistics of using ki on himself in order to gain release. It had been so much easier when someone else did it. “Um, well, maybe with some practice. What am I supposed to do with Chichi at the same time, though?”
“Ugh! Goku, you’re so simple!” Bulma clapped her hands for attention and took command. “Look, let’s get back on track. We came here to help these two have sex. Maybe if Goku actually does it like he’s supposed to he’ll catch on. Chichi wants to have a baby, so Goku’s gotta cum inside her. Right? Everybody with me? Good! Fortunately, I have a plan.”
---
Next chapter up soon! But before we go:
*A Public Service Announcement from Yamcha*
Yamcha (sitting in the Masterpiece Theater study and dressed as Alastair Cooke, holding a glass of brandy): Hello all. You just read a lemon featuring me; hope you weren’t too traumatized. Look, I know what people think of me. I have a few fans, and a thousand times more people who hate my guts. Whatever.
But whether you want to write me as a nice guy or as the embodiment of everything you hate about the male gender, could I just make one tiny request? Please? Ahem. If you’re going to call me by my old moniker ‘the desert bandit,’ it’s just that. Desert. D-E-S-E-R-T. I am not a dessert bandit!
Orchideater: Bwa-ha-ha-hah! Every time I read somebody making that error I think of you dressed as the Hamburgler, sneaking cakes and candies out of a pastry shop.
Y: Shut up, shut up!
OE: And Fat Buu could be driving the getaway car! *dies*
Y: Argh! Quit it! I’m trying to be serious here! It’s ‘desert’. One ‘s’! Think of the two ‘s’es in dessert as– as the s-shaped swirls in a dish of chocolate mousse.
OE: That’s a crappy mnemonic device.
Y: It’s all I can think of! I’ll try anything to get people to remember!
OE: I like seeing that typo every now and then. Now get back to the fic, and stay the hell away from my York peppermint patties, you thief.
Y: *cries*
by Orchideater
Warnings: NC17, yaoi, het, yuri Y/Gk, Gk/B, Gk/CC, Y/G/B/CC, implied G/V, and enough Y/B bickering to make it screamingly obvious why they broke up.
Disclaimer: DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees
Summary: G/CC/Y/B This is a *Dragonball* comedy sex fic. You have been warned.
A/N- Warning! Yamcha/Goku lemon ahead! Sorry, this took longer than I expected to post. *sweatdrops* Sometimes I just can’t stop picking at my stories, especially the lemons. A big thank you to all who reviewed chapters 1+2!
The Sweet Scent of Passion
Chapter 3: Gay?
Bulma snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe Goku has low hormone levels or something. I could run a few tests on him to see if he could benefit from medication.”
“Oh, yes, please, Bulma-san! I-It might be a medical problem.” Chichi breathed a sigh of tremendous relief.
“OR, he might be gay. You have to face that possibility, Chichi.”
The dark-haired girl shook her head stubbornly. “No, no he’s not. I can’t have a gay husband, I want lots and lots of kids!”
“We’ll just have to test him. Yamcha, go over there and make out with Goku,” she demanded.
“WH-WHAT?!”
---
-
“You heard me. Get naked and go see if you can turn him on.”
“B-But I’m not gay!”
“I know you’re not gay, but do it anyway.”
“No!” he squealed, voice breaking. “Nobody said anything about that when we came here. I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this!”
“God, you’re such a prude, Yamcha. I’m not asking you to fuck him, just get naked and touch him and stuff. You’re a good-looking guy. If he likes men, it’ll arouse him. Go on!”
“Well, touching a guy doesn’t arouse me. I’m not gay,” he repeated stubbornly.
“We all know that. I’m asking you a favor here, is it too much to ask? Do it now, or you’ll get none for a month.”
“Oh, like you could last that long either. M-Maybe I’ll freeze you out,” he sulked, though she could see the fear in his eyes.
“Oh, right, don’t make me laugh! Come on, quit stalling.” She walked up and proceeded to yank his T-shirt over his head.
“Wha? Hey! Bulma!”
“It’s Goku. He’s totally naive, and he’s your friend. Just look at him– he’s no threat to you.”
“B-But he’s still a guy.”
Bulma’s patience had reached its limits. “Go do it NOW, mister! Unless you really are insecure about your sexuality. Go, go!” She started smacking him and kicking at him around the ankles.
“Alright, alright! God. I’ll try.”
“Take your pants off, then.”
“I was going to, geez! I don’t need a coach.” Shaky fingers unbuttoned the fly and he pushed the jeans to the floor.
“The underwear, too.”
“No! They’re staying on. You kept your panties on, I’m keeping mine on. Underwear, I mean,” he said, blushing painfully.
After one last parting glare, he wobbled over to where Goku sat recovering on the floor, hands still shielding his groin.
“H-Hey, Goku,” he began, cringing at how lame that sounded. He crouched down to Goku’s level but avoided his eyes. “You okay, now?”
“Yeah, I’m alright.”
“Why don’t you come sit on the bed here with me?” Yamcha took his arm and helped him up, and led him over to the bed. They sat down in the middle, Indian style, facing each other. Yamcha dawdled for five entire minutes settling himself into the perfect position, trying to calm his pounding heart and stop the rivers of sweat from pouring down his body.
Never in his life had he been so embarrassed. Sex itself still made him nervous, and here he was, forced into a homosexual encounter by his girlfriend, who stood watching his every move with another woman only feet away. He must have done something very wrong in a past life.
Goku only stared at him blankly.
Several times he tried to speak and no words came out, making him look like a fish out of water. He finally cleared his throat noisily.
“O-Okay, Goku. Um... Hi. Well, um, Bulma wants me to see if you’d rather be with me instead of her or Chichi. Th-That is, I mean, s-see if you’d rather be touched by a man, f-for, um–”
“You mean now you’re going to be touching me all over?” Goku cut in, exasperated. “What is it with you guys? Why’s this so important? I don’t like all these touchy-feelies.”
“N-Now, just take it easy, Goku,” he said, putting on a weak smile and raising up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. Relax, we’re old friends, here.”
Goku relaxed considerably at that, but Bulma was fit to be tied. “Don’t tell him that, Yamcha! What are you just sitting there for? Hurry up, we don’t have all night.”
“Stop pushing me. You’re always pushing me!”
“You need a push, or you’d never get anything done.”
“Well, maybe I dig my heels in because I don’t like to be pushed!”
“Guys, please don’t fight,” Chichi pleaded, tugging on Bulma’s arm just as she was preparing to really lay into Yamcha.
She always does this! Yamcha snarled to himself. Yamcha drive me here, take me shopping, carry my bags, Yamcha cut your hair, Yamcha wear this, Yamcha wear that. I’ll show her– I’ll make Goku splooge so hard it hits the opposite wall!
“Dammit, why don’t you guys go out into the hall,” he snapped. “You’re making me nervous!”
“Freaking fine, you jerk.” Bulma grabbed Chichi and stomped over to the door. As she threw it open Roshi fell into the room.
“Ack! Why you– you old pervert! Were you watching through the keyhole that whole time?!”
“Hey, how am I supposed to keep on top of the situation if I don’t have all the facts?”
Bulma chased him out into the hallway and slammed the door behind them. Muffled stomping, shouting, and clattering could be heard from rooms away.
“God, women are scary,” Yamcha said, shaking his head with dismal resignation. “Or maybe it’s just Bulma.” After the ruckus outside faded, he turned back to Goku with a somewhat renewed sense of confidence. “Well, that’s better. Let’s just talk for a minute, okay, Goku?”
“Okay.”
“I know you’re sick of ‘touchy-feelies’ right now, but we need to figure out what’s going wrong between you and Chichi, okay? ‘Cause it’s important. Can you be patient with me and put up with it a little while longer, please?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Okay, good. Umm,” Yamcha struggled for a place to start. “Why didn’t you like what Bulma and Chichi were doing to you?”
“I was supposed to like that?”
“Er, yeah. Most guys love it when a pretty naked woman touches them. What didn’t you like about it?”
“I just didn’t. I don’t like it when people touch me too much.”
“Did someone touch you in a way you didn’t like when you were a kid?”
“No.”
Well, that rules out child abuse, he thought. “So when you say you don’t like a lot of touch, you mean... it annoys you? There’s no fear involved?”
“I’m not afraid of that! It just bugs me, yeah, cause they’re being rude.”
Yamcha gazed at him quizzically. Goku had never complained about hugs, or roughhousing, or minor touches before. Only the intimacy seemed to bother him. Perhaps his many years alone living and training in the wilderness were to blame.
“Why do you think it bugs you?”
“Well, Chichi and Bulma– I don’t get it. I don’t know what they want from me, and then they get mad like I’ve done something wrong.”
“You don’t like it at all to have a naked woman on or under you?”
Goku fumbled helplessly for words. “Well, I... There’s something about it that... deep in the back of my head is telling me something, but it’s just not right... I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it! What am I supposed to be feeling?”
“W-We’re trying to... I’m going to try to show you.” Yamcha felt a wave of sympathy toward the frustrated young man. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to show Goku how beautiful, how exhilarating, how cathartic sex could be.
Chichi’s timid and gentle approach hadn’t worked, neither had Bulma’s steamroller method. Maybe he needed something in-between, and improvised to fit.
“Goku, just take a deep breath and relax. Forget about the girls for a minute. I’m–” He paused and swallowed. “Do you mind if I touch you? Anytime you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”
Goku considered this for a moment. “Well, alright.” He seemed a bit more accepting of the situation.
“Let’s try a kiss, okay?” Yamcha scooted forward, his nervousness creeping back over him again like slithering snakes.
“C-Close your eyes and tilt your head up, huh?”
Goku did as requested, long dark lashes meshing together over high cheekbones. His face grew slack in relaxation, and lips parted slightly.
Yamcha blushed further, stricken by the amount of innocence in that trusting countenance. Just pretend he’s a girl, he urged himself, leaning down until their lips met.
Just a brief, warm press, simple and chaste. He pulled back and Goku opened his eyes.
“See? Nothing wrong with that, right?”
Goku cracked a smile. “No, that wasn’t so bad.”
“Okay, let’s try it again. Open your mouth a bit this time, and we can try, um, ‘tongue wrestling’.”
“Okay!” Goku quickly closed his eyes and tilted his head again, more interested now that it involved a game.
Yamcha kissed him, and dared to venture his tongue forward to stroke the other’s. Goku, however, took this as his cue to forcefully pin the caressing tongue with his own. Yamcha pulled back with a meep.
“Gotcha, Yamcha!” he laughed.
“Uh, heh-heh. Yeah, you sure did.”
He cocked his head, confused at Yamcha’s frazzled expression. “Was that wrong?”
“Uh... D-Don’t make it into a competition, Goku. In kissing nobody ‘wins.’ Think of it as a give and take, a push and pull. You want to move with your partner, not against them.”
This didn’t have the same appeal as a fighting game, but intrigued him nonetheless.
“Ready to try again? I’m going to try touching you on the back and arms and stuff, okay? Just some simple caresses.”
Goku nodded, already leaning forward for the kiss. Yamcha held him lightly by the shoulders and leaned in, brushing their lips together delicately before pressing harder and exploring with his tongue. Goku awkwardly attempted to follow the man’s instructions about “push and pull,” but still ended up overdoing it.
“Not so hard, Goku,” Yamcha mumbled against his mouth. “This isn’t a fight. Just move with me.” Goku relaxed and improved considerably this time, responding to the teasing, guiding strokes of the older man’s tongue instead of fighting against him.
Yamcha moved one hand to stroke the wild shock of hair, while the other hand caressed his arm and back, pulling them closer together. His nervousness had all but vanished, his confidence burgeoning.
This isn’t so bad at all, he thought. Just like with a girl.
Better actually. Goku wasn’t so damn demanding as Bulma, didn’t gaze down at him with those superior eyes that always seemed to say “I know so much more than you.” Here he felt like a teacher, and Goku the willing student. He actually had expertise in this area that Goku did not, and could teach him something.
He pulled back, and those huge dark eyes searched his face. Goku’s lips had grown rosy and slightly swollen.
“Nice, huh?” he ventured.
“Uh-huh. So what now? Was I doing better? I want to do it the best I can.”
Yamcha eyed him shrewdly. He still thought of this as a game, not an erotic experience. A glance at the young man’s lap told him that the closeness was not having the desired effect.
“Still not turned on that much, huh?”
“Turned on?”
“Hmm.” He reached for Goku’s manhood. “Maybe if I–”
“Hey, no,” Goku protested, twisting away. “That’s private.”
“Since when are you so modest about your parts, Goku? When you were a kid you didn’t think twice about streaking or giving ‘pat-pat’ to total strangers.”
“Well, I don’t care if people see it. Pat-pat was just a tap, and Bulma would get so mad when I did that, I thought– and when I trained under Kami he told me my parts were a private area, and when I get punched there it hurts more than any other area, and I don’t understand why you guys keep wanting to grab me there.”
“Well, it’s supposed to feel good, Goku. When you’re with a lover it’s okay for them to touch your privates.”
Judging by Goku’s hesitation, it wasn’t the time to press the matter. “Alright, let’s just hold off on that a bit. I want to try something else.”
Yamcha shifted, readjusting his position, and began to raise his ki level. “I was thinking, maybe because you’ve become so powerful, you need more power to stimulate you, you know? Like you’ve become immune to normal levels. It’s just a theory, but let’s try this.”
He rubbed his hands together, and the soft golden glow of ki emitted from between them.
“I’m gonna keep raising my power level ‘til it’s pretty high, and I’m gonna manifest some ki in my hands here so when I touch you you’ll be caressed by the energy as well. Sound good?”
Goku nodded, quietly watching the light radiate from his friend’s palms.
“Close your eyes and concentrate on the feeling. Just relax all over and we’ll see how this goes.”
The lids fell shut and Goku sat placidly, awaiting whatever was to come.
Yamcha stared at the beautiful boy in wonder. He still couldn’t get used to the idea of Goku as an adult. For so long he’d stayed so small and childlike, hardly any different from the rowdy imp he’d met in the desert so long ago, the little boy so naive he couldn’t tell one gender from the other.
Now he was a grown man, and the sudden change was disconcerting. The little shrimp had doubled in size, grown muscular and relatively tall, and yet he still retained a boyish softness about the face, a skinniness about the neck that despite his warrior’s toughness made him seem almost tender. Yamcha suspected that even at the age of 18, he still wasn’t done growing. Unusual, but then everything about him was unusual.
Goku sat before him perfectly relaxed, perfectly trusting– perfectly vulnerable. The strongest being on Earth had placed himself in the hands of his old friend, and Yamcha felt overwhelmed by the responsibility. Had he ever been trusted so completely, and with so much?
The simple gesture touched him more than he ever could have expected.
Goku, he thought, I won’t take your trust lightly. I know I’ve made no great accomplishments to rival yours, know I haven’t been strong enough to be of any help when it really counted, but... I swear I’ll help you in this way, at least.
Trembling hands reached for the still figure.
Goku flinched ever so slightly as warm thumbtips pressed into the center of his forehead. They parted slowly, traveling in opposite directions over the expanse of his brow, the ki leaving behind a tingling trail in its wake.
Strong fingers joined them, trailing along in a feathery glide. The glowing pads slid down his temples, circled around under the eyes, then gently traced over the delicate skin of the eyelids. They reversed course to travel down the bridge of his nose, tapping playfully at the tip.
This face, this body– so different from the Goku he’d known. He felt like a blind man identifying a person for the first time, his exploring hands solidifying that touch-image into memory. A rediscovering among friends took place.
One hand moved off to cradle his cheek, then strayed toward the tender lobe of the ear, while the other traced swollen, ruddy lips. They parted, as if to admit entrance, and the fingers left a ki-enhanced kiss upon them before moving on.
Both hands slid down his neck, fingers splaying over cords and tendons. They skimmed down his arms, over powerful biceps and strong forearms, till they met the hands resting lightly upon his knees. Yamcha grasped them and held them up, rubbing the palms with his thumbs and then lacing their fingers together. Goku opened his eyes and gazed at him drunkenly.
“This feel good?”
“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly. “You do this for Bulma, Yamcha?”
“Sometimes. But usually she’s pretty impatient and wants to get right to the heavy stuff,” he said, noticing that Goku’s breathing had grown heavier. Finally, a real reaction. So far, so good.
Goku closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of those fingers that skimmed back up his arms and drifted down his chest. Yamcha pressed his palms flat against either side of Goku’s chest, long fingers curving over the thick muscle, palms shielding each nipple. He let loose a shivering pulse of ki, stronger than before, into that warm body. Goku jolted with a harsh gasp, his breathing growing faster and more erratic.
“Doing okay?”
A vigorous nod and heaving chest were his answer. He leaned in and began kissing gently along Goku’s face and neck, and Goku arched to allow him better access, placing his hands tentatively upon the older man’s shoulders. The questing hands moved downward, raking over his tight abdomen, then smoothing in random patterns over his back... moving down his waist to the base of his spine...
“Ahh-AH!” Goku cried out, arcing like a bow.
Yamcha pulled back in alarm, not expecting such a violent reaction. “Wh-What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”
Goku’s head still spun with wild sensation. “Ahh... No...”
He took Yamcha’s hands and placed them back where they had stopped. “That felt– felt amazing. D-Do it again, w-with the ki, it was– it was– ahh, wow.”
Yamcha flared the ki in his hands and cautiously felt around Goku’s lower back, craning over his shoulder to try and see. He knew he’d found the spot again as Goku let out a sharp cry of pleasure.
“This feels good?” he teased, quirking a smile.
“Ahh! Yeah, yes! Nnnnnhh...”
“Goku...” He concentrated and determined that the spot he was touching was a circular spot faintly different from the surrounding skin, the skin irregular and raised like scar tissue. “Goku, this is your tail scar! Does that really feel good for you?”
“Hhhhm...”
“I guess that was a dumb question. Strange. Here I’d have thought it would hurt you,” he mumbled to himself, circling the scar lightly with his fingers. “I wonder why...”
A firm press into the center of the scar and Goku cried out, arching into the other man’s body.
“Wow, that’s one hell of a hot spot.” Yamcha shifted backward and moved his hands down onto Goku’s hips to give him a reprieve from the intense sensation, only to realize that a massive hard-on had been jabbing him in the stomach and he hadn’t even noticed.
He blushed furiously at the sight, but embarrassment turned to a smug pride as he realized that he’d accomplished what neither of the girls had been able to. This could work yet.
Goku’s eyes opened to slits and that flushed face stared up at him to see why he’d stopped. “Yamcha, I– I–” he stuttered between hard breaths, unable to put voice to a need he couldn’t understand. “I need– I–”
“C’mere, Goku,” Yamcha said softly. After carefully turning Goku around, he positioned him between his own bent legs and pulled him up against his body, back to front, then looped an arm around Goku’s chest and delivered a soothing rub to that hot flesh. He pressed his knees inward, hoping the closeness and feeling of support would be a further comfort to his friend.
Once Goku was secure he caressed his shoulders and neck, adding a kiss now and then, and lowered the amount of expelled ki in his right hand until it glowed only faintly.
“Goku, I’m gonna try stroking your cock now, okay?” he murmured in his ear. Goku granted permission with a nod and Yamcha touched the hot skin gingerly, experimentally, then wrapped his hand around the thick shaft. A small shudder ran up the length of Goku’s body.
Embarrassment had worn away, replaced with a detached fascination. He’d never held another man’s cock before, never seen another man squirming in pleasure, much less from his touch. He traced a finger around the full head, over the eye, up the pulsing veins crisscrossing the surface. Goku’s breathing sped up further at the gentle exploration. Yamcha raised the ki in his palm before again taking hold and beginning to stroke slowly and steadily, earning a choked whimper from Goku.
Yamcha pressed kisses into his jawline and ear. “You’re really hung, you know that, Goku?” he breathed, chuckling slightly. “I always used to be kind of proud of my size, but damn, you put me to shame.”
Three kisses later, Yamcha realized Goku had gone stiff and quiet as though he were resisting. “What’s the matter?”
“Why would you want me to hang?” he asked, frowning.
“Why–?” Yamcha’s brain reeled as he struggled to understand Goku’s logic. “Gah!” He laughed and dropped his forehead onto Goku’s shoulder.
“Goku, one of these days we have to get together for a beer and I’ll tell you all about slang words. I don’t mean hanging-from-the-gallows hung, I mean–” he raised his head and twisted to look Goku in the face. “Goku, when you say a guy is hung, it means he’s got a... big penis.”
“Oh.” Another short silence. “That’s a good thing?”
“Of course it’s a good thing! It means you get bragging rights. You know, in the locker room you get to say stuff like, ‘All ladies shake their thing for the man with the swing,’ and your buddies are supposed to come back with things like ‘The bigger they are, the quicker they fall,’ and ‘It’s the wind in the sails, not the size of the boat, haw-haw-haw.’ Y’know... dumb stuff like that.” Goku had begun to slide away from him, so he readjusted their positions, stroking more firmly now.
“Ungh! Hahh... What locker room?”
“Look, I’ll explain it to you later,” he rasped, squirming uncomfortably. Goku writhed and began to emit needy sighs as he increased the ki in his hand again. The lustful noises filling the air and the repetitive brush of Goku’s firm ass across his groin had become impossible to ignore. No matter how he shifted in place, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable again, or to cool off.
Yamcha glanced down between their bodies and was mortified to find that he was hard as well, his shaft pressed up against his belly and the head distending the elastic band of his underwear.
Turned on by a man– his life really was falling apart. No sense worrying about it now when they had come this far, though. Yamcha took several deep, steadying breaths and decided to move on to his finishing move.
“Stay with me, Goku. I’ve got an idea.” He wrapped one arm around the heaving, panting teenager and held him close, and held the other hand palm up in the air to his side. Goku whimpered at the lack of sensation on his cock but was placated by the ki-imbued hand rubbing his stomach, running a line up and down his pleasure trail.
Yamcha clenched his teeth, cast a fierce gaze of concentration upon his upturned hand.
“So ki dan!”
The ki bullet sprang up from his palm, hovering above his hand and spinning crazily at breakneck speed, crackling and sparking with energy. With a clench of the fingers and narrowing of the eyes, he shrank the glowing orb down to the size of a ping pong ball, pleased with the more delicate control he’d achieved over the technique since the last tournament. He removed his hand, carefully letting it hover on its own in the air, then stabbed his first two fingers upward in command.
“Tsuo!”
The ball sprang to life and leapt onto Goku, who gasped as the intense point of energy touched his skin. It streaked a mad path over his body and left a streamer of light in its wake, whirling round his limbs, jittering over the muscles of his stomach and chest, thumping and sliding over his back and teasing his neck and ears.
It flashed over the tail spot and Goku screeched, Yamcha moaning as well as the orb brushed by his member and Goku bumped up against him. He pushed down the confining underwear and freed his erection, pulled Goku tight against him so movement of the hard cock could massage his tail spot.
Goku moaned loudly as the ki bullet dallied in a zigzag pattern over his front, teasing the nipples and navel. Using the last of his senses, Yamcha snapped the ki ball off his friend’s body, forcing it to hover nervously in the air before them. Precum oozed steadily from the younger man’s cock– he was close.
Goku, if this doesn’t make you splooge, nothing will. “Hsss...”
He pinched his hand together, then stiffly and slowly separated fingers and thumb. The ki ball flattened correspondingly. He made a stab upward with the first two fingers, then parted them, and a hole appeared in the center of the disc, growing wider until the disc had become a spinning ring instead. Yamcha smirked, and with a flick of his wrist sent the ring soaring toward them again.
“Enjoy, Goku.”
The ring slowed as it came toward Goku, centered on its target and slowly lowered itself down onto his aching cock.
“Aiiiaa-ahhh! AH! Ah, God!” Goku bucked violently, hands clenching and twisting spastically in the air before gnarling in the sheets at his sides so tightly the fabric shredded.
Yamcha laid kisses upon the back of his neck, stroked his chest and thrust rhythmically up against his tail spot, losing himself in his own pleasure and thrilling in the screams of ecstasy from his partner. “Hahhh... hahhh.”
The ki ring spun crazily, traveling slowly up and down the length of his shaft, its vertical motion gaining in speed. Overloading him with sensation.
“Ahhh! Ah– Yamcha, I’m gonna– I’m gonna burst!”
“It’s okay, Goku. Let it happen,” he ground out. “Don’t hold back.”
Through harsh, heaving breaths, a rattling growl rose up within Goku, making his entire ribcage vibrate. He grabbed the arm holding him, eyes wild, his body shaking convulsively with the effort it took to resist what he wanted. A thin, high-pitched whimper of desperation keened from his throat.
The emotion behind that lust-filled whimper broke something in the older man, and with a strangled sigh he burst against Goku’s back.
Yamcha slumped against him, vaguely apprehensive of what he knew was coming but too woozy with the high of orgasm to care. He could take a little pain, for Goku.
Lips of an open, trembling mouth reached for him. “Yamcha, I have to– I have to– I have to–”
“It’s okay, Goku,” he panted.
Goku thrashed his head back and forth, choking on his words. “You’ll get mad.”
“I won’t. Do it Goku, take what you need. Do it. Do it!”
Jaws slammed down upon his arm like an iron trap, teeth sinking in halfway to the bone. Yamcha gasped and bit his lip against the searing pain as those possessive teeth drove in again and again.
A shudder ran the length of Goku’s body, and he let loose a muffled scream against Yamcha’s arm as orgasm wracked through him in waves. The ki ring exploded in a thousand sparks of light, and with a convulsive jolt he shot an arc of molten white through the air to splatter against the headboard.
Spent, Goku slumped forward, still clutching the offered arm. Yamcha held onto him tightly to prevent him from falling, though he was almost ready to swoon himself. He peered down and saw Goku mindlessly licking the wounds he’d caused, his eyes unfocused and glassy.
Minutes passed in silence as both men recovered. Finally the drowsy licks slowed and stopped, and the younger man looked up, consciousness bleeding back into his eyes.
“Wow,” he breathed. “That was– that was really awesome. That feeling... that’s what you guys were trying to show me all this time?”
Yamcha nodded, giving him a small smile. “Well, at least we know that all your parts work,” he said, running a hand through the spiky black hair. “You just need a little more stimulation than most.”
“I guess,” he trailed off. “Yamcha?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for showing me.”
Yamcha grinned. “No problem, kid.”
“So, can we do it again?”
“Ah, well, I-I don’t know...”
A tormented wail interrupted their tender moment. “WAAAHHH! My husband is gay!!!”
Yamcha nearly hit the ceiling, and instantly hid himself under the covers.
The group outside that had been taking turns peeking through the keyhole decided it was safe to come in. Chichi had fetched a bathrobe for herself and let Bulma have the sheet they’d been sharing.
Bulma gave her boyfriend a disapproving glare. “Oh, my god, Yamcha, did you really just cream all over Goku’s back?”
His head whipped back to take in the full extent of the mess he’d made and then he frantically wiped it off with the comforter, grinning and sweating sheepishly. “Uh, I-I–”
“I can’t believe this. I’m dating a fruit!”
“This was all your idea!” he bellowed. “What did you expect me to do?!”
“You were supposed to show him. You weren’t supposed to enjoy it.”
“I-I’m not gay!”
“Even though you just splooged for a man?”
“Augh! It was all your– you’re the one who– ahh, just leave me alone!” Yamcha stumbled off the bed and ran to the corner. He crouched there in total dejection, a hundred imaginary “GAY” signs hanging over his head in accusation.
The girls ignored him and began drilling Goku.
“I told you he was gay,” Bulma declared. “What was the deal with all that biting, Goku?”
Chichi sobbed and smacked him repeatedly with her fists. “Goku, how could you! Why didn’t you tell me you were gay before we got married?! How can you humiliate me like this?”
“Ow! Hey! What’s ‘gay’?”
“Oh, get real, Goku!”
“Goku, why?!”
“Now, you girls just knock it off,” Roshi said sharply, ending their tirades. “Don’t go jumping to any conclusions. It seemed to me the boy was only turned on by the ki manipulation, not by Yamcha.”
“You actually paid attention? Huh, I’m surprised you were doing anything besides ogling our asses out there!”
“An old guy like me knows how to multitask.” He ignored Bulma’s fuming and stepped up to the bed, all business. “Goku, was it Yamcha that got you excited just now, or was it the ki in his touch?”
“Oh, the ki stuff,” he answered immediately.
Chichi ran up to Yamcha and dragged him out of the corner.
“Yamcha! You have to show me how to use ki like that. That thing, that ball of light that really drove him crazy– you have to teach me that!”
“The so ki dan? But that takes years of training to learn.”
“Years?! I don’t want to have to train for years just to make my husband want me! I want to be a mother! I only trained and entered the budokai to impress Goku. I want a bay-beeee! I want one right now!”
The others looked at each other helplessly. “Well,” Bulma said slowly, “Goku, do you think you could do that ki-touch to yourself in order to get turned on, and then have sex with Chichi?”
“Um...” Goku tried to picture the logistics of using ki on himself in order to gain release. It had been so much easier when someone else did it. “Um, well, maybe with some practice. What am I supposed to do with Chichi at the same time, though?”
“Ugh! Goku, you’re so simple!” Bulma clapped her hands for attention and took command. “Look, let’s get back on track. We came here to help these two have sex. Maybe if Goku actually does it like he’s supposed to he’ll catch on. Chichi wants to have a baby, so Goku’s gotta cum inside her. Right? Everybody with me? Good! Fortunately, I have a plan.”
---
Next chapter up soon! But before we go:
*A Public Service Announcement from Yamcha*
Yamcha (sitting in the Masterpiece Theater study and dressed as Alastair Cooke, holding a glass of brandy): Hello all. You just read a lemon featuring me; hope you weren’t too traumatized. Look, I know what people think of me. I have a few fans, and a thousand times more people who hate my guts. Whatever.
But whether you want to write me as a nice guy or as the embodiment of everything you hate about the male gender, could I just make one tiny request? Please? Ahem. If you’re going to call me by my old moniker ‘the desert bandit,’ it’s just that. Desert. D-E-S-E-R-T. I am not a dessert bandit!
Orchideater: Bwa-ha-ha-hah! Every time I read somebody making that error I think of you dressed as the Hamburgler, sneaking cakes and candies out of a pastry shop.
Y: Shut up, shut up!
OE: And Fat Buu could be driving the getaway car! *dies*
Y: Argh! Quit it! I’m trying to be serious here! It’s ‘desert’. One ‘s’! Think of the two ‘s’es in dessert as– as the s-shaped swirls in a dish of chocolate mousse.
OE: That’s a crappy mnemonic device.
Y: It’s all I can think of! I’ll try anything to get people to remember!
OE: I like seeing that typo every now and then. Now get back to the fic, and stay the hell away from my York peppermint patties, you thief.
Y: *cries*