Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance of a Prince ❯ Chapter 13 ( Chapter 13 )

Vengeance Of A Prince

(© Jady Arewar and Shi-Saiyan)

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Too many to list! Character death, incest, sex, Yaoi, Yuri, mockery of Saiyajin mating rituals, violence, lots of blood, hentai, insanity, etc.

Summary: Vejita's world falls apart when Trunks is accidentally killed.

Pairings: Gokou/Vejita, Vejita/Trunks, Gohan/Piccolo, Gohan/Bulma, Pan/Vejita, Pan/Bura, Vejita/Goten, Gohan/Pan, Gokou/Pan… and I'm sure I'm forgetting a bunch.

Chapter 13: (Dual Chapter)

There was nothing quite like power. Any type of power, not just ki, could cause his blood to rush. Even as he lay beneath the Saiyajin Kakarrotto, feeling the warrior's hands run down his body, exploring every crevice, kneading the scarred skin, he knew his power. He couldn't deny the hardness forming between his thighs, but Gokou was quick to assist in the situation, long soft fingers circling his need, stroking it gently, teasing him, pleasuring him without the threat of ending their fun.

Vejita moaned out against the warm lips pressed against his, hips moving against the rhythm of the hand. He grasped Kakarrotto's shoulder and gently guided his lover - one of many - onto his back, crawling atop Gokou, their lips never once breaking apart until Vejita rose up, eyes lidded as Kakarrotto continued the soft teasing ministrations. He felt Gokou's length growing firm, pressing against his ball sac, but he paid it little heed. This… all of this was solely about him, the Saiyajin no Ouji. "Do you want me, Kakarrotto?" he demanded, breathless.

"Yes," Gokou responded, running a hand along Vejita's inner thigh, eyes locked on Vejita's face as the elder Saiyajin savored each touch. Gokou loved the fact he could cause Vejita so much pleasure, knowing how much pain had engulfed the prince's past. If he had any control over it, Vejita would soon forget the definition of pain and would never need to relearn it.

It took every ounce of control Vejita had not to allow his eyes to roll into the back of his head and just allow his foe whatever Gokou desired. Vejita's determination for revenge was more powerful than his lust for a little romp, however. "What will you do, Kakarrotto?" he demanded gruffly, voice betraying the control he wanted to present. "To have me? What will you do?" Vejita leaned down, glossy gaze staring at the younger Saiyajin. Gokou's breath caught in his throat. "I… anything, Vejita," he whispered huskily, hands leaving Vejita's need, nails curling into luscious tanned skin. It was the truth, too, he realized. If, at this very moment, Vejita was taken from him, Gokou had no idea what he would do, but he did know he wouldn't be pleased with himself come the following afternoon.

Vejita's eyes turned violent before Gokou realized the sinister smirk that slithered its way across the prince's face. Harsh hands gripped his wrists and shoved them above his head. Burning ki circled the skin, wrapping it around the headboard. "Ouch! Jita… what…?"

"Shut up, you fucker," Vejita grunted, spinning around and shooting off small strands of ki that connected with Gokou's ankles, connecting the appendages to the bed's end. He turned around slowly, smirking sideways at the wide-eyed humanized Saiyajin. "You'll do anything, you said," he reiterated, leaning down on his hands, back arching as he stretched for the first time that morning. He could smell Kakarrotto's sweat and it left him aching for more. Vejita leaned up, wishing almost desperately that he had a tail. Ah… the tortures he could have committed to this worthless Saiyajin if Kakarrotto still had the overly sensitive appendage.

Perhaps with the second wish…

He ran a hand down Gokou's chest, savoring the baby-soft skin. Blood flowed as his fingers left the flesh, skin buried beneath his fingertips. Narrow eyes rose up, watching as Gokou hissed, turning his head aside. "You want me, Kakarrotto?" he growled out, voice seemingly echoing in the Saiyajin's ears. "Then scream for it."

~*~

Goten stared in silence up at the sky, watching as dawn drifted, making way for the warm sunny afternoon. He hadn't eaten since the previous night. In fact, he hadn't moved since nightfall, after Vejita had left. He lay beside the very river Vejita had cleaned him in, watching the sun through the trees.

"Vejita…."

The name left his lips like a curse… and a prayer. He understood Trunks' need for the Saiyajin no Ouji. Vejita was… the king of all demons, and once evil touched a soul, it could never be washed away.

Nevertheless, though the mere thought of Vejita caused his loins to swell with nothing less than pure lust, Trunks… Trunks left him breathless, caused his heart to swell with sorrow and eagerness to see the demi-Saiyajin again.

He could almost see that smirking face in the clouds above.

Goten was hungry, but he couldn't return home. He couldn't dare face his mother after what he'd done. Chichi loathed Vejita with every fiber of her being, and Goten now understood why.

Vejita was a very, very bad influence.

~*~

She shrieked, but her cries were muffled by the sock shoved deep down her throat. She could barely breathe. Wide terrified eyes watched as Gohan leaned down over her, a small smirk on his lips, eyes fuzzy with madness. Bulma recall that look, as hideous as it was. That look had been in Vejita's eyes when she had first set sight on him so many years ago when Furiza had been alive. It was so feral, so similar to that pure desire of greed and self-satisfaction. She could never mistake such a look. How… how had this happened to sweet innocent Gohan?

Piccolo, however, was little surprise, especially since it had happened to Gohan. Piccolo! He was responsible for this! It hit Bulma like a bag of bricks and her gaze narrowed at the Namek, but he stared back unaffected, arms folded across his chest, observing in indifferent silence, eyes occasionally flickering back to Gohan in curiosity of what the demi-Saiyajin had up his sleeve next.

"You hear them, don't you, Piccolo?" Gohan whispered breathlessly, hands roaming around Bulma's hips. The blue-haired ningen yelped and tried to tear herself away, but the belts that circled her hands and held them above her, connected to the posts around the bed, prevented any such movement. Gohan merely smirked. "Vejita and Father… you hear them."

"I hear them," Piccolo responded simply, voice gruff.

"You hear Father's cries?" Gohan whispered huskily, hands gripping on Bulma's blouse. The buttons were, one by one, ripped away, leaving her bra exposed beneath. Bulma tried to cry out to Gohan through the stuffing in her mouth, but merely a muffled two-syllable "Gmmpff!" escaped in mockery of Gohan's name.

~*~

Gokou cried out as intense, exquisite pain seared a path down his chest. Vejita left his fingers hooked into claws, nails still embedded in the flesh, and looked up at the other Saiyajin's face with the look of a hungry animal. The scent of blood heightened his arousal and that, combined with the perfect, magnificent body beneath him had him so hard it ached. Gokou's head was thrown back, his mouth open in a gesture of surrender. The ki bonds that held him, spread-eagled to the bed were unnecessary now, but Vejita left them in place. Gokou may have given himself over to the pleasure of the pain, but Vejita was taking no chances that the baka might change his mind in the middle of things.

Kneeling between the larger man's legs, Vejita flattened his hands, sliding them through the sweat and blood and down to encircle Gokou's arousal, applying just enough pressure to make Gokou cry out his name and his body arch off the bed. With a soft chuckle, Vejita released the throbbing shaft and lowered his head, touching his tongue to the pale, tender skin at the inside of his thigh. Gokou gasped and shuddered and Vejita scraped sharp fangs across the flesh, not hard enough to draw blood, just enough to make Gokou groan and squirm.

Vejita slid his hand up the younger Saiyajin's inner thigh and pressed a finger into him, all the while continuing to nip and lick at everything except the single part of the man that was screaming for attention. Gokou whimpered as the digit entered him, still caught up in Vejita's careful torture, waiting anxiously for it to end and the prince to finally take the length of him in his mouth. When it happened, the hot wetness engulfing the sensitive flesh, it was all the better for the anticipation that had come before.

The large Saiyajin screamed and arched into the searing heat of Vejita's mouth and the prince scraped his teeth down the rock hard length, causing the cry to trail off into moans. Gokou's hips slowly lowered back to the bed and Vejita released him from the wonderful torment of his mouth. Vejita looked up to see Gokou staring, eyes heavy lidded with lust, waiting to see what would come next. He wasn't fighting his bonds and there was no wariness or fear in his expression. He'd surrendered to his prince, bowed to Vejita's dominance of him and, in fact, was thoroughly enjoying being uke. Vejita grinned, wolfishly. It was going to be a long morning.

~*~

Bulma screamed against the gag as Gohan began to strip and his intentions became glaringly clear. She'd known what was coming when he'd started tearing her clothing away, but had refused to face it until now. The sound that came out was muffled and pitiful and Gohan smiled, cruelly, moving toward the bed in a slow, graceful predator's walk. "What's the matter, Bulma? You can fuck one Saiyajin, but not another? Is it just because he's a prince? Is that what makes him acceptable?" he asked. He spat the word prince as if it had left a vile taste in his mouth. Climbing onto the bed with her, kneeling between her thighs, he leaned close to her ear. "Would you rather it was my father here, between your legs? Ready to fuck you? You know my mother always thought you were sleeping together. That's why she was so hard on him all the time. I've known since I was a child and you know what? I think she was right." Tears sprang to Bulma's eyes. Even in the midst of the horror she was facing, the thought of Chichi believing Gokou capable of having an affair made her ache. Gokou would never have done anything like that, even to Chichi, who treated him like garbage.

A strong male hand sliding up each of her inner thighs brought her sharply back to the present situation and her eyes widened as Gohan lowered his face between her legs. Her entire body bowed when his teeth sunk in to the delicate flesh and a scream that penetrated the gag was torn from her throat. Gohan raised his head, her blood coating his face, flowing freely from her body and onto the white sheets beneath her. In a completely feral gesture, Gohan's tongue came out and licked at the crimson liquid, his eyes never leaving his terrified captive's. The look on his face was animal, pure, primal hunger, not for food, but for bloodshed. "Piccolo," he said, quietly.

"Yes?"

"Get some senzu beans. I want this to last." Bulma didn't look away from the feral Saiyajin, but she heard the Namek leave through the window to do as he'd been ordered. Staring at the man she'd watched grow from birth as he drank the blood he'd drawn from her body, Bulma wondered when she'd slipped out of reality and into a nightmare.

~*~

She stirred awake softly, eyes hazed and fuzzy. Light hurt her eyes. She found herself about to move to close the shades, but paused as she felt warmth around her, cuddling her. Bura's eyes opened, gazing down at the larger female against her. Their limbs were intertwined beneath the sheets so much that none could tell what belonged to whom. Bura yawned faintly and slid down into the warmth of the bed, further into Pan's warm embrace, and tucked her head beneath Pan's head to avoid the harsh afternoon light. The warm heated scent of Pan's body filled her lungs and Bura breathed it in, wrapping an arm tightly around the Son's small waist. She smelled so… so good, so edible. It made Bura lust to touch her, to awake the elder demi-Saiyajin, but somehow she prevented herself, the need for sleep too much. Her eyes drifted closed, breath slowing, never once noticing the erratic sharp drops and spikes of ki throughout the mansion.

~*~

Third… fourth… his thrusts of his hands became harsh, trying without doing so to rip apart the Saiyajin from the inside out. Blood covered his fingers, moistening them as they jammed inside without mercy. His lips drew back, leaving the Son's still-aching cock exposed. Gokou was silently pleading through his eyes, but he said not a word; Gokou didn't dare. He would demand nothing. He would want everything.

Vejita's eyes slid down to the pooling blood atop the chest. Vivid painful memories rushed through his thoughts, seeing the familiar scene. Was this what he'd become? Furiza would be so proud. It would hardly stop Vejita, however, but it drew his lips back with a snarl, eyes narrowing. Gokou and his damn son had caused him to do this! They had to pay… and pay they would.

He reached upward, digging his nails into the Saiyajin's abdomen. Gokou turned his head aside with a whimper of the pain. This would only be the beginning, Vejita vowed silently. He watched his hand, moving the nails in various directions, creating art from blood and pain. The symbol… after so many years he had still not forgotten it. So much time had passed, and yet each curve, each line… it was as if he'd never stopped seeing it.

Vejita removed his nails and wiped aside the puddles of blood, smearing it across Gokou's chest. There, before his eyes… if only….

Gokou looked up as he felt everything stop. Vejita had removed his fingers, and silence… breathless silence had overcome the bedroom. His eyes landed upon the wide-eyed Saiyajin, and he followed the onyx gaze, seeing the wound on his skin. "What is it?" he whispered.

"The mark of the Saiyajin no Ou," Vejita snapped with a snarl, digging his hand into the flesh and ripping it back in disgust. Had he lost his mind? He was no king! He wasn't worthy to be king! A failure could never be king, not while this damnable creature beneath him was always outsmarting him, outdoing him! Him and his fucking murderer of a son!

Vejita trembled with rage as he tossed aside the chunk of flesh and slapped Gokou. The younger Saiyajin jerked, tears streaming down his face. "And it's all your fucking fault, you bastard!" Vejita snarled, gripping the muscular hips. He panted for breath, eyes tracing down the scars he'd just created.

"Not such a pretty-boy now, are you?"

~*~

"Tell me how you like it, Bulma," Gohan whispered, licking his lips as he pulled away for breath. He could smell her arousal. She wanted him… such a slut. It made sense that Trunks was her and Vejita's son. That boy never tired of sex. He still remembered the fourteen year old teenager walking into his bedroom that late night, sweaty and wild-eyed because of the full moon. It had only been a matter of time before the mood had affected him. He would have gone to Goten, but Gokou had taken his uncontrollable son away from Chichi before the moon had affected him.

Trunks had rushed up to him and shoved him down on the bedspread, lips claimed in seconds. The pure scent of need from Trunks, and his own wild lust hadn't caused him to stop the young prince.

He'd been so tight….

Gohan ran his hands up, tangling them through the curls between her legs, appreciating every trimmed inch of blue hair. Bulma sobbed through her gag, yanking at the binding that held her still. She tried to close her legs, but Gohan only shoved them down harshly without comment. He could sense Piccolo miles away, quickly approaching the little floating building beneath Kami's Lookout. He wanted the Namek back, and without words he told Piccolo to hurry up.

Rising up on his hands, he settled himself between the nimble thighs and ran his tongue between sagging breasts. "Poor Bulma… getting so old," he whispered before taking a hardened nipple into his lips. Bulma was about to shriek a vain protest, but all that escaped was a cry of pain as Gohan bit down, sucking in the blood that flowed from yet another wound. Bulma felt dizzy with blood loss. She could still feel her life's liquid flowing from her inner thighs.

~*~

Vejita might have noticed his former lover's distress if he hadn't currently been fascinated with the sight of Gokou's blood. It was welling from the deep slashes on the younger Saiyajin's back, where Vejita's razor sharp nails had slashed at the pale, perfect skin. He admired his work for a moment and then leaned down to lap up each drop of the precious crimson liquid, savoring the sweet, coppery tang of the other Saiyajin's blood on his tongue. Then, he roughly turned Gokou over, once again exposing the gaping tears in his abdomen. Vejita ran skilled hands up the expanse of steel muscles under satin skin and Gokou moaned, arching his back a little, so his chest was pressed more firmly against the caressing hands of his prince.

Vejita glanced up at the larger man's face and had to pause for a moment to admire the pure, raw, male beauty of it. His lips parted in pain and ecstasy, eyes closed to further the sensations, unruly black hair dampened by sweat and spread out on the white pillowcase behind him, spiky midnight eyelashes against pale, white cheeks. Ebony and ivory and perfect in every line of his face and form. Vejita growled with a primal, savage appreciation for the body beneath him and then lowered his face to the already healing wounds he'd created. His tongue lapped at the sluggishly flowing blood, probed the edges of the wound and Gokou cried out in pain. Vejita barely flicked a glance his way, just moved his seeking mouth from the open wound to the still smooth skin above it, licking and nibbling his way up the perfectly formed chest until he reached the hollow of Gokou's throat. Pausing there, he dipped his tongue into the hollow and savored the taste of Gokou's excitement and fear. His teeth grazed the flesh, lightly and Gokou arched his neck back, exposing the vulnerable underside of his chin.

It would have happened whether Gokou had given his instinctual permission or not. The fact that he had, indeed, according to Saiyajin law, asked for that permission was something that Vejita refused to even think about. In any case, what followed was inevitable. Vejita reared back his head and bared his teeth, fangs glinting in the morning sunlight. He caught a brief glimpse of Gokou's face, midnight eyes open now, watching, but there was no fear in them. Only acceptance. Refusing to allow himself to examine that, Vejita buried his teeth in the soft skin of Gokou's throat and swallowed the rush of thick, tangy, sweet honey that flowed into his mouth. His own blood sang as he drank from the younger Saiyajin's throat, his teeth locking into the yielding flesh. Gokou let out a soft gasp, but that was all. He kept his head back and allowed it to happen. He lay bleeding on the bed and let Vejita claim him.

Moments - or was it hours - after it began, Vejita ripped his teeth from Gokou's throat, unceremoniously and also not gently, leaving yet more wounds that would scar permanently on that perfect pale skin. The pang of regret that he felt in some deep, distant, remote part of himself at the sight of any marring of that flesh was shoved aside, impatiently, as Vejita hooked his fingers into Gokou's side and flipped him over yet again, pinning him to the bed by sitting on his ass. He gazed down at the broad, well muscled back before him and smirked. This side of Gokou was untouched. That would have to be remedied.

~*~

TBC

(Dual Chapters continued next.)