~Trying something a little different from my usual. We'll see how it goes. O.o Enjoy! ^ ^
Coruscating ki sparked intensely as three mighty demigods roamed the skies of Earth; fierce power against power, immaculately crafted muscle upon muscle. They trained assiduously to force one another past the brink and beyond. They would not allow the somber forecast from the lilac-haired boy from the future to come to past.
The three of them had been at it all day. It was usually the time Goku and Gohan would make their way home for the rest of the night, wash, have their last meal and go to bed.Lovely pink, orange and other red hues filled the sky as day slowly progressed to night.
“Come on Dad. Mother is waiting for us.”
Gohan gently pulled on his father’s arm, eager for some of his mother’s cooking.
“Goodnight Piccolo-san,” greeted Gohan with a smile.
He waved to Piccolo and started to fly in the direction of his home; only stoping once he noticed that his father wasn’t moving. Their training routine had been the same for months, so Gohan hadn’t an inkling what was keeping his father.
Finally his father’s closed mouth opened.
“Piccolo and I are going to train some more. Go home, wash, eat and get some rest. Tell your mother not to wait up for me. I’ll probably be back much later.”
Gohan was about to contest him. He knew his father’s appetite. He wouldn’t miss a meal. And he suddenly felt extremely irate. Why would they train without him? If they could handle more so could he! When he turned to convey his thoughts to them on the matter, Goku gave him the most stern, severe, and piercing glare that he had ever given him, even surpassing the one given on Nameksei. Gohan swallowed audibly.
“O-okay, Father. Goodnight.”
Gohan turned around and flew off in haste. No one saw the single tear that escaped him beyond his will. He wiped at his face furiously. He didn’t understand what he had done to earn such a malevolent glare from his father, but he hoped that they would be able to talk about and fix whatever it was on the morrow.
“Son. Son Goku, there was no reason for you to treat Gohan that way. If you wanted time to train without him, all you had to do was say so. Now he believes you’re angry with him and doesn’t understand why. Just what…”
Piccolo started. Goku’s head was down, his bangs covering his eyes, but Piccolo could clearly see the trail of tears that began to line his face. He had never known Goku to cry. He hardly believed the powerful oaf was capable of such a feat, yet there he was. He had no clue what to do or say in such a situation which peeved him greatly. He stood his ground half a meter from him, waiting for Goku to make a move or say something. Just when he thought he could not take any more awkward silence, Goku spoke for once, ever so softly; his Namekseijin ears picking up every syllable with ease.
“It’s not… we’re not… It’s been months and we’re not getting much stronger. Gohan has awesome potential but has a long way to go and is still a young boy...”
Goku wiped religiously at his eyes struggling to halt the deluge he felt coming.
“...I’m scared. What if when the time is up we’re not ready? What if I’m not strong enough?! What if I get sick and die anyway?! I don’t want to die again! What if we fail and the earth is—,”
Piccolo had already closed the gap between them, and slapped him hard enough to bruise even him.
“I have never known you to be a coward Son. Are you already sick? Is it doing something to that thick head of yours? I hope that’s what it is because I don’t ever want to hear such drivel from your mouth again,” said Piccolo a lot more heated than ever, his normal stoic air shattered.
Goku gazed up at him in disbelief, gingerly holding his wounded cheek. He hadn’t known just exactly what he was expecting from Piccolo and wasn’t quite ready for the hard slap. But it was the look on Piccolo’s face that stole his breath away. He appeared furious but even more so hurt. Goku hadn’t meant that; he was just venting his own fears. He hadn’t wanted to plague his wife and son with it. He had thought as fellow warriors they could understand each other.
“Piccolo, I didn’t mean—,”
“Save it Son. You do not believe in us and for whatever reason you have lost faith in yourself. Train hard and fight to win or give up and die. Either way I cannot breathe for you. And don’t worry; I won’t be around to hold you back anymore,” declared Piccolo resolutely.
He took off in a fierce blast of ki, for the first time feeling a strange and painful tightness in his chest he didn’t much care for.
Goku panicked. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and used Shunkan Idou to reach Piccolo. He really didn’t feel like chasing him. Their collision was hard and brought them both harshly to the ground with a boisterous boom. The redistributed momentum from the speed of flying away to instant impact had them both rolling for a few meters. It finally ended with them in a heap; Goku awkwardly straddling Piccolo.
Goku gazed down at Piccolo earnestly then, biting his lip, indecision quivering throughout his form. Piccolo peered at him perplexed as Goku came closer and closer to his face.
“Son, what are you—,”
The lips that caressed his own stole all viable thought from him. Just as he had regained enough of himself to think again, the sultry tongue—a good deal warmer than his own—invaded his mouth and began a devout conquest of his inner recesses. His long powerful fingers had already been threaded by the other’s slightly shorter, thicker ones, keeping both sets of hands locked together as Goku continued to plunder his mouth with immense fervor.
Piccolo was absolutely dumbfounded. Rational thought would have dictated that if Goku was sick, he had probably just transmitted it to him; that he should have been doing everything in his power to stop the baka. He obviously had no clue what he was doing. But rational thought was gone. Piccolo felt suddenly very warm inside unlike any time before, and he found himself needing more of that delicious heat that only the Saiyajin atop him could give.
Goku gasped in pleasure and relief as he felt Piccolo begin to participate in the kiss. Violet dueled pink for dominance in their sultry caverns until they finally had to pull away for breath. Goku gingerly removed Piccolo’s turban and brought their foreheads together in a disturbingly intimate embrace. Piccolo’s breath hitched as his antennae were overwhelmed by Goku’s thick but soft dark locks.
Piccolo knew very well what they were doing; he had studied enough earthlings during his travels and attempts at world conquest to understand the mechanics easy enough. What he didn’t know was why. What could compel Goku to do such a thing with him?! Having heard his thoughts clearly through their close proximity, Goku answered him.
“Because you’re an amazing warrior and teacher to my son and friend and… I love you, Piccolo,” said Goku passionately before kissing him again sensually.
Piccolo’s chest felt too warm and tight then. He thought it might burst. No one had ever much cared for him except Gohan, let alone love. He hadn’t thought such was possible; never keeping any illusions about such, even if had had many hidden feelings for others. But he knew he had to stop Goku. No matter how much either of them wanted it, or how 'right' it felt to either of them at the moment, it wouldn’t be. Goku had a wife, was supposed to be a hero, and even more than that; he couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of any pain to Gohan. It would surely break him. He was still so young and had already endured such a hard life. Unfair just didn’t say it.
Goku flinched and pulled away from him. His large shimmering eyes piercing his heart greater than an enemy’s blast ever could. Goku had heard all his thoughts as they touched. Damn. He was losing his touch if Goku could get past his defenses so easily. Goku started making to get up and Piccolo knew logically that he should just let him go home and be over with the whole thing…but he didn’t. He grabbed Goku’s hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it ever so intimately.
Goku hastily pulled his hand away, tears plaguing his eyes again.
“I don’t want to hurt Gohan or Chi-Chi… but… But I can’t help how I feel.”
Goku hiccupped and then gazed at him with imploring eyes, pleading for him to tell him what to do. Piccolo knew it was his last chance to set him straight and send him away. It was the logical choice. But after drowning for a few moments in Goku’s dark, arduous orbs, he felt he didn’t care much for logic.
He pulled Goku back to him and kissed him deeply, fervently, sucking his tongue entirely without shame or disgust. After a few moments, he pushed Goku up enough to look at him. Goku’s eyes were heavy lidded, his cheeks heavily flushed, but Piccolo knew he had his full attention. He knew then life could never be the same between them.
“Son, no one must ever know of this. We must remain unseen always. Do you understand?”
Goku smiled at him then with the most beautiful, soul-tingling smile, forcing his breath to hitch, and then kissed him again deeply. Goku stood up, moving just a half meter away from him. He swiftly tore off the rest of his ripped gi top, his bottoms and boxers haphazardly following. Piccolo gazed at Goku in new light. He had seen him in the nude many times, but never before did it have such a tremendous effect on him.
Goku noticed Piccolo was still dressed and bit his lip, thinking for a moment that he had changed his mind. Once he realized Piccolo was just admiring and taking in his form, he grinned from ear to ear. He started moving around sensually, giving Piccolo a private dance. His arms curled gracefully above his head in a dancer’s pose, his hips swaying in the light of the moon that had finally come out as he took fluid, dedicated steps that only a body that had been trained for years could pull off flawlessly.
Piccolo didn’t know where Goku had learned such a delectable and delicate dance, but the swollen bulge in his pants told him it was time to move things along. He hastily discarded his shoulder weights and gi, stepped to Goku and pulled him to him. The other’s arms latched around his neck as his mouth was salaciously devoured. He materialized a large thick bit of violet cloth that could be taken for a blanket and threw Goku down on it; a smirk revealing a gleaming fang in the moonlight.
Goku smirked back at him and grabbed his leg. As he fell, Goku changed their positions. Piccolo looked up at him while on his back. He blushed violet as Goku opened his legs and got between them. He was quite certain he wanted it the other way, but he guessed he could give Goku that. Suffice to say he was astounded when he felt sultry, heavenly warmth envelope his long, swollen dark emerald green organ. He peered down at the pink lips, fair skin, and darker than night eyes that gazed at him with more ardor than a sun could be hot. Demons be damned he wanted to taste those lips again and could so easily drown in those vast orbs so similar yet so unlike his own.
He had maintained more control than he thought possible, allowing Goku to hold his hips down as he deliciously tortured his swollen length with his tongue. Just when he thought he might die from pleasure, Goku pulled away; leaving his rigid organ hot and glistening with his saliva. Then, before he could protest, he witnessed Goku do something he couldn’t forget if he tried. He got up and lowered his hips onto Piccolo, proceeding to impale himself. Piccolo tried to stop him. He was larger than him and was certain that there would be initial pain. Goku just grinned at him with that silly grin of his and continued with greater determination.
The saliva had helped but not nearly enough. Piccolo could tell he was in pain as his eyebrows knitted and his normally smooth face knotted into a sharp grimace. Knowing so stunted any pleasure Piccolo might have otherwise received from the moment. Goku panted harshly, pulled up to the tip, determined as if he were in a battle and then came back down again clenching his teeth. Piccolo gasped at the blissful warmth and pressure that absolutely surrounded and choked his member so thoroughly, biting his lip, violet rivulets rolling down his chin as he strived to allow Goku the time to adjust to his girth.
What might have been an eternity seemed to pass until Goku spoke again.
“Okay,” he panted softly.
The impasse broken, Piccolo flipped them around and began to feverishly thrust into his ex-nemesis. There weren’t words for the intense warmth and heightened bliss he felt. He felt freer and more simultaneously imprisoned than he had ever felt before. He went down a moment to drink Goku’s cries, his violet tongue reaching out to taste Goku’s tears of passion before thrusting his tongue in to plunder Goku’s mouth. He didn’t eat because it wasn’t necessary. But he knew once tasting him, nothing could ever compare.
Goku moaned heatedly into their kiss. Piccolo continued to thrust into him, pulling away from the kiss to focus on his rhythm. Piccolo could feel something powerful and immaculate building within; he flipped Goku onto his hands and knees without losing their joining, and began pistoning in and out of him with the greatest fervor. Goku’s voice had gone hoarse from all his moaning, groaning and heated cries of passion, calling Piccolo’s name like a broken record; forcing him to merely pant. With every thrust his inner walls and bundled gland within were being deliciously tortured by Piccolo’s heavy length.
Piccolo could tell he was close. He reached around and began to diligently stroke Goku’s swollen pink member in time with his thrusts. Goku choked out another moan and continued to pant as Piccolo kept working his body inside and out, perspirations draining down their glistening forms. So close, just a little further… And then it happened. Immaculate bliss undulated throughout their bodies; intense euphoria pervaded their minds as the beginning of their climax took them in waves. Piccolo threw his head back completely unreserved, continuing to pump sedulously until both he and Goku had been fully milked of their release. They collapsed in a heap onto the large violet cloth.
It seemed for the longest time the only movement that came from them was breath. But Goku wanted to change position and Piccolo was still very much inside of him. He didn’t want to bother him, but… On cue Piccolo eased out of him and rolled to his side. Goku crawled up to his face and kissed him deeply, which Piccolo thoroughly participated in. Goku pulled away and laid his head on Piccolo’s chest, lovingly rubbing his fingers in circles over the different textures of green, red and pink skin. Piccolo chuckled softly and threw an arm around Goku. He conjured up another large cloth and covered them.
“Unseen,” he whispered to Goku.
“But not unloved?” whispered Goku before nuzzling closer into the other body.
“Not unloved,” said Piccolo, answering Goku’s earnest question, lightly bringing his chin to the top of Goku’s head.
Goku knew it was the closest he would ever get to an “I love you too” from Piccolo, but he didn’t mind, as long as it was true.
Several meters away, ki cloaked, and hidden in the brush Vegeta stood with his mouth agape. He could not believe what he had just witnessed. He took Kakarotto to be the big overpowered third class oaf he portrayed himself as but never in his wildest dreams would he have ever thought…
He grimaced as he noticed that his gi bottoms were suddenly too tight. Much to his disgust he had become painfully aroused watching them. Instead of leaving like he should have once he realized what they were up to, he continued to watch all the way through to the end, unable to pull his eyes away from the uncanny moment. He had been spying on them for weeks—waiting for the gravitational chamber to be upgraded— trying to detect any secrets or changes in their training that might prove useful to accelerating his ascension. Not much had changed until that night. He had told himself before that if something did not catch his eye that day, he would stop spying and just continue his own rigorous regimen alone as he should. Lo and behold! The universe must have a sick sense of humor. He quietly took a path back to Capsule Corp, relinquishing flight so as not to be detected.
Once there, he ran past the cerulean-haired woman before she could start harping on him and made a B-line to his personal quarters. Much to his dismay, his erection had not receded during his trip back but was instead more swollen and angrily reddened. He hastily removed his garments, discarding them on the floor and stepped into a hot shower he already had running through voice activation.
He thought about turning it to cold just to be done with the whole thing, but the images of Goku and Piccolo kept sauntering through the front of his mind as if they belonged there. Hot water ran down the muscular curves of his heated body, momentarily dampening his hair’s natural ability to defy gravity. His powerful yet unbelievably soft-for-always-being-gloved hand began teasing each perked nipple alternately. His other hand found its way to his leaking member, rubbing the pre-cum past the slit and over its bulbous head as he bit his lip stifling a moan.
Never in his life had he been so compelled to do such a thing. He had watched in utter repugnance as other planet purgers dastardly enjoyed the “perks” of planet purging, but he was an elite prince. While he could not deny the thrill that came from fighting, killing, the blood of an enemy pouring out of flesh profusely ensuring victory; rape was a low he would never allow himself to succumb to. He had been stuck under that obnoxious tyrant’s thumb, but he had always fought to create and maintain his own principles. No one could force him to entirely relinquish his pride! Witnessing the sickness and filth of so many others while under the Planet Trade had severely crippled whatever libido he might have had; causing him to be practically frigid since puberty. And since the kusotare tyrant basically kept him as pet, most in the Planet Trade had steered clear of him in that regard. The only time he could recall having a conversation about sex was when he had caught Raditz and Nappa sinking to the dastardly low of rape. He beat the hell out of them that day and in his rage finished the purge himself two days ahead of schedule.
Yet there he stood diligently stroking himself—harder than a politician’s head—panting like a bitch in heat as rivulets of blissful warmth radiated throughout his hardened flesh. A pink tongue came out to sensually lick his abused lips that had become swollen from biting; he whimpered as his hand tightened furiously around his long, bulbous organ, his hips beginning to thrust in a mindless frenzy. He could feel his heart rate heighten as his body began the gyrations of the ancient dance. After what seemed a blissful eternity, he could feel the telltale storm stirring inside him and moaned loudly at the purity of it. His mouth opened after that in a silent scream; his hand began pumping around him with a haste that bordered on madness, as undulations of the purest bliss began to rack his body and buckle his spine. He pumped furiously into his hand, his seed spurting out of him hard onto the shower wall, easily cracking the expensive material.
Vegeta panted harshly and grimaced at the broken wall in front of him. Even then he could not rid his mind of the image of Piccolo and Goku together, connected in flesh, as hot muscle slammed against— No! He had to stop thinking of it. Why couldn’t he stop! He swiftly turned the shower to cold and screamed indignantly, but it did the trick.
That night his dreams were plagued by green and pink melting against black and cream. Even in his sleep his mind would not allow him solace from what could not be unseen.
Until Next Time...