When Tulips Bloom In Winter

BY : MewrSaidTheCat
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 899
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/GT/Xenoverse/Super/etc.belong to their respective owners. I own nothing except this derivative fanwork which I do not profit from.

Everything was bright lights, enticing aromas, and delightfully snow-capped…

It was going to be a White Christmas.




Son Gohan Jr. took in a deep, soothing breath; waves of euphoria coursing through him. It was his first Christmas back on his home planet after being *away for three Earth years, and he couldn’t have asked for anything more…

Walking through the silently charged festive streets on a snowy night before the eve of Christmas with his most beloved; everything he had ever wished for--the best present in the whole universe--literally, within his grasp. Entwined in his companion’s elegant fingers, his grip tightened possessively; an action that always resulted in a warm fuzzy tingle in his core that never failed to make itself evident in his cheeks; the giddy titter escaping his chapped lips, unstoppable.

He sighed deeply. His former self hadn’t known it was possible to be this happy.

The seven foot owner of the said fingers being squeezed gave the boy a curious glance.

‘Are you feeling alright, Gohan?’


‘What are you thinking?’

Another unstoppable giggle filtered through their mental link. ‘You should know the answer to that, my love! You’re in my head right now.’

Big deep-brown eyes peered up at its clear *lapis lazuli counterparts, playfully expectant; that signature winsome smile that rivalled the sun’s radiance painted all over his countenance.

His towering partner gamely closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to chase down Gohan’s thoughts in their shared consciousness; much like chasing lightning bunnies in a swirling mist…

Gohan watched his companion’s face closely. His endless fascination with the Earth-born Namek that took root since he was little had grown into fervent adoration, and later on—as time shaped him into an adult—inevitably blossomed into so much more. His senses, all of his mind and soul, were always endlessly enthralled by everything that was the ethereal being before him. Known to the rest of the world as the evil Piccolo Daimaoh’s spawn, but to him and only him, as a dearest best friend, mentor, *guardian demon, and now– his beloved other half.

So great and all-encompassing were his feelings for the Namek that he was convinced of no other explanation except that if souls could fall in love even before their human minds could rationalize and oversimplify the phenomenon with words and worldly preconceptions– then his soul had already long fallen. Hopelessly, irrevocably, and interminably.

Doing his very best to concentrate on walking sure and straight without bumping into anyone in the crowded street, the demi-Saiyajin tenaciously kept his gaze on Piccolo’s serene face; a stark contrast to his own which was rapt with anticipation. And when a small smile formed at the corners of those plush green lips, he instinctively held his breath.

‘Piccolo-san’s hand is so warm. It’s nice…’.” Piccolo recited in his usual euphonious baritone; and Gohan had to make a conscious effort to stop himself from drooling. Then, with eyes still closed, his Namek continued, “‘Ahh! Piccolo-san’s voice is just too sexy!’.

“Gaah!” Gohan jumped flabbergasted, squeezing his companion’s hand reflexively. “Don’t overdo it!”

The smile on his beloved’s face broadened, exposing some fang. “Sorry. I thought you wanted me to know what you were thinking.”

“Uhh. Yeah…” The teenager shyly dodged the Namek’s gaze, silently reprimanding the child in him that was becoming too indecently giddy.

A tug at their connected hands made him look up, and he gasped softly right before receiving Piccolo’s open-mouthed kiss. He squeaked when he felt some tongue and oh, Kamisama… that heated softness felt so nice against his frostbitten lips! He was blissfully getting lost in what felt like small eternities, when the mind-numbing kiss ended too soon. Gohan blinked up dazedly at his partner, mouth agape and lips tingling. He let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding, forming steam clouds that fogged up his eyeglasses.

They had stopped walking right there in the middle of the sidewalk, not remembering to care about passers-by; trapped in each other’s visage and basking in the buzzing energy radiating from their chests. Soon enough, feet tiptoed and arms lifted, giving in to reconnecting with those heavenly lips and the maddening urge to embrace the strong neck hidden beneath layered mufflers.

‘Piccolo-san,’ Gohan whimpered inwardly, as he continued to enjoy that saccharine-sweet warmth, becoming so light-headed and oblivious of where they were or the possible scene they could be causing. Deft green fingers eventually stripped him of his eyeglasses which he seemed to have altogether forgotten, too intent on getting a better angle as he obdurately prodded and cradled the Namek’s sharp fangs with his tongue, precariously knocking both their eyeglasses askew in the process.

Piccolo was likewise, hastily stripped of his own black-rimmed spectacles thereafter—which he only wore upon Gohan’s insistence as part of his “Earthling disguise”. Not that aliens weren’t welcome on Earth; it just so happened that Piccolo Daimaoh Jr. wasn’t just some ordinary alien, but one very famous and infamous all at once (for many conflicted reasons, some truer than the others).

“G-Gohan…!” Piccolo grunted as he was pulled down against the boy’s lips even harder, arms slinking from his nape to under his arms and around his torso to press their bodies flush against one another until there seemed to be a vacuum between them void of air or resistance. The young demi-Saiyajin was getting very much enthused with the kiss that the sounds slipping from his lips began to lose all reserve; to which against Piccolo’s more rational tendencies, green lips beginning to bruise purple couldn’t help but comply with equally mounting fervour. As always, the boy’s profound effect on him dashed all of his well practiced control. ‘G-Gohan, you’re hovering off the ground!’ the still somewhat coherent part of him thought important to mention.

“Huh?” Gohan vaguely acknowledged, still very much preoccupied with the mouth he was plundering that nearly a full minute lapsed before he actually took heed. And even still– not completely relinquishing, if only to linger some moments more as he took it upon himself to nurse the bleeding cut and several bruises he had adorned Piccolo’s lower lip with; drunkenly licking the plainly visible puffy purplish stains upon green that was his proud handiwork.

Piccolo blinked blearily as he was finally released; cheeks dusted deep purple. He always had considerable difficulty regaining his full faculties after being attacked not so chastely. To which Gohan never failed to miss a beat in drinking in greedily. He sighed appreciatively at his husband’s elusive bewildered expression; the flashing background lights seemingly conspiring in highlighting his beloved’s exquisite colours all the more.

‘Kamisama… You’re so beautiful.’

Gohan ceremoniously buried himself in the crook of Piccolo’s neck to indulge in one last whiff of his mate’s sweet addicting scent, bestowed a feather-light peck on the tip of what he considered the handsomest nose in existence, before somewhat forlornly untangling himself and touching ground as inconspicuously as possible; Piccolo leaning forward slightly as they replaced each other’s spectacles.

Only when their fingers found each other’s and weaved together again (even tighter than before) did they resume walking. And though they originally planned to stroll leisurely and soak in the city’s festive mood until only a couple of hours before midnight, Gohan changed his mind.

“Shall we hurry back home as soon as we get everything we need?”

He received a mute nod, and they weaved through the crowd into selected stores to pick up some last minute items.

The taller of the two simply received packages to carry and peered down curiously at the owner of the messy ebony mane as they went about their task. The Namek received a few curious stares from strangers himself as he did so (mainly because of his intimidating height which no amount of disguising could hide), but he didn’t notice nor mind.

Gohan picked out a simple dinner comprised of food they mutually enjoyed: double mozzarella cheese pizza, a strawberries and cream chiffon cake, and red wine which he had acquired a taste for during their sojourn in *Asteroid E2.

Piccolo sniffed curiously at the food, ensuing a chuckle from Gohan who knew his Namek’s equally heightened sense of smell was picking up the inviting aromas in prodigious doses, and it was the decadently frosted cake he was zeroing in on the most.

The Namek’s sweet tooth—specifically for richly frosted cakes—was a precious little secret only Gohan was privy to. Piccolo had been obstinately shy about it when he first discovered it after numerous coffee shop dates, and it thrilled him to no end to have found something he could spoil his beloved on; especially now that it was his official and exclusive privilege as his spouse. Every chance at hounding his talented patissier-esque Z-Senshi friends to make sweets and cakes in the pretence that it was to satisfy his own cravings was not let up. And even if it eventually dragged the subject of his drastically altered eating habits all the more into the spotlight, watching his Namek enjoy cake made it all worth it.

By some miracle or freak of nature (depending on whose perspective)—having somehow imbibed the Namek’s scanty eating habits (even long before they tied the knot)—the young half-Saiyajin adult rarely ate as much anymore, if not only during his visits to his mother and only upon her stern assertion. Even if the eldest Son sibling had always been relatively more reserved in habits and manners compared to his Saiyajin kin when it came to food, it still caused quite a stir among his friends and family who were well-versed with normal Saiyajin eating habits. It shocked them how slender he had gotten despite his still above-average muscular build for a six-foot and two centimetre eighteen-year-old.

But Gohan was fit as a fiddle; even unwittingly twice reaffirming the title he earned as “Strongest in the Galaxy” in the recent apocalyptic *HFIL incident, and in the even more recent and renowned Intergalactic Games on Asteroid E2. And though he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere as broad-shouldered as his late father or as burly as Goten (who had an appetite that rivalled Goku’s)– he was taking on a more modestly robust build, one that they couldn’t help associate more with Piccolo’s physique; especially in terms of height where he managed to surpass the Son household by a full three centimetres. Who’s to say all those tiptoeing for kisses and suspended upside-down crunches two thousand times twice a day didn’t slowly but surely gain him those extra centimetres? Kririn tactlessly joked once during a Z-Senshi meeting that it must have been due to the copious amounts of Namek DNA he’s absorbed from too much sex with Piccolo (a comment received with volatile silence—the only one who took it seriously enough to acknowledge it being Gohan himself).

Even so, the demi-Saiyajin’s obsession to grow even taller so he didn’t have to lean back as much just to see Piccolo’s eyes properly, or hover off the ground to ambush his husband’s lips with kisses had not diminished at all with time. Much of the opposite can be said, in fact, that he even considered asking Shenron for a few more inches more than once. His friends had to committedly stop him, saying that it was a stupid idea and that if he got any taller he might as well have green skin to match. (Gohan’s sudden dreamy expression after that left them utterly flummoxed. Clearly, they were still far off the mark when it came to the extent of Gohan’s adoration for the Namek and all his attributes.)

Presently, they stopped in front of what looked like a clothes shop and Piccolo’s eyes narrowed at his mate who only smiled back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Gohan put his hands to Piccolo’s chest to stop him from following.

“Stay here. I’m picking up your present and I don’t want to ruin the surprise. I’ll be quick.” Adding for good measure: “And don’t read my mind!”

The Namek only raised a brow behind all the packages he was carrying. A present for him?

‘Gohan,’ he sent telepathically as the boy had already disappeared inside the shop. ‘I have yet to get you anything.’

‘Says the one who can conjure matter out of thin air.’

‘Well… Out of surrounding energy, to be exact.’

‘It makes no difference to me. All I know is that you are amazing and you turn me on so hard. I can’t wait to get home so I can have my way with you as much as I want.’

Piccolo’s mental signal stuttered.

The demi-Saiyajin re-emerged shortly carrying a rectangular box which Piccolo eyed suspiciously. Something told him he didn’t need to read his husband’s idiosyncratic mind to know what the box contained.

Three years worth of unconditional intimacy covered just about everything that their pre-marriage relationship had not. If it was him and his weakness for sweet fluffy desserts– this was the teen’s predilection for dressing him up in human clothing ranging from “mild-mannered” disguises (spurred by the *recent fiasco with The Golden Warrior and his Namek missus’ real identity being pried open by the public) to downright “kinky and fetishistic” attires.

Piccolo had never successfully been able to rationalize how the boy could so easily melt his barriers, but if he was already more than willing to die for him countless times over, then their little “dress-up” games could hardly be counted as a sacrifice—if his pride would not be allowed to have a say in the matter. Though everyone knew by now that when it came to Gohan, the normally aloof Earth-born Namek already had little of it to none.

And Piccolo himself never had reason to deny it. Being the one Gohan chose to bond with and define his happiness out of all the eligible and more conventionally acceptable candidates for the part was a fact never lost to him. He knew how staggeringly lucky he was to be the apple of the pure-hearted half-breed’s eye—he and his pride, at least, agreed on that.

After Gohan had eased Piccolo of half of his load, they both walked indolently to the edge of the city, enjoying the festive yet altogether tranquil atmosphere, and before they knew it– they had stepped into the border where the city ended and the forest began. They walked further in until they were out of sight, as customary, before charging their Ki and blasting off into the sky in the direction of their humble home.

An unimposing bungalow type, spherical brick house that they fashioned using organic materials and Namekian magic situated in the section of the forest within earshot of Piccolo’s favourite waterfall was their abode.

Some distance behind it was a clearing littered with flowers in shades of blushing orange and diluted violet, miraculously in full bloom despite the thick snow carpets, and dancing with the playful night breeze.

“Mother will be expecting us around eleven o’clock for lunch tomorrow morning. We can head straight there because she offered to be the one to get *Tulip-kun from Capsule Corp.”

Piccolo nodded; a flurry of fond emotions flooding his chest at the mention of their dearest daughter.

“And then we head to Capsule Corp after lunch to help *Bloomer-san prepare for the Z-Senshi party in the evening. It’ll be great to catch up everyone after so long! I got you a white, long-sleeved shirt and black tie that will look stunning on you, Piccolo-san! Everything always does.” ‘Even nothing.’

Piccolo’s cheeks burned as he grit out, “Stop buying me clothes, Gohan. Why would you want to go through the trouble when you can just project the images to me and I can create it.”

“Because…” Gohan began with a hint of admonition. “If I want something that flaunts how sexy you are, you refuse to make it!”

The erstwhile unmarried Piccolo used to be in the dark about that word: sexy. But now he had a fairly ample picture of what it meant.

In fact… He had more than enough illuminating pictures, all of which he was made the unwitting subject of its interpretation – being the sole object of his overzealous husband’s hobby to do with secret identities and donning costumes. A lifetime of ignorance in such matters now completely wiped out after all the exposure he’d been put through (though “overexposure” would seem to be the more accurate term for it, in all senses of the word).

“It’s not my fault you’ve got so much pent-up sexy in you, Piccolo-san.”

Piccolo wrinkled his nose. “Stop calling me that.”

Sexy, sexy, sexy! Piccolo-san is super sexy! And I’m not going to stop rubbing it in until you own up!”

Piccolo could only growl under his breath.

“Ugh. Even Piccolo-san’s growl is super sexy!”

“Alright. Now that’s just childish.”

Hearty laughter from Gohan filled the air even as he walked ahead to their front porch. Already, Piccolo was starting to feel a growing dread for the upcoming Z-Senshi Christmas get-together the next day—and with good reason.

If it wasn’t embarrassing enough when it was just the two of them, Gohan was no different when he talked about ‘his dearest Piccolo-sama’ in front of their friends. Though Gohan tried his best to keep himself in check in the presence of others, their new married status seemed only to warrant more of his open declarations of love to a feverish degree, regardless of time, place, or audience.

In a press conference following the events of the HFIL incident where they were all forced to make themselves known to the world they saved, he shocked everyone even more by calmly revealing (after relentless probing from both the press and the masses) that he was very much engaged to be married and very happily head-over-heels-in-love so too. When they further hounded him for specifics, he politely requested that his personal life be respected and kept private, pointing out that surely even heroes deserved that.

The love-stricken youth, however, lost all inhibitions when their first child, Tulip Daimaoh Son was born, and was slowly even growing accustomed to the perks of his “professional life” (as he would often call it) as a celebrity superhero; never failing to talk about his husband and daughter in the highest, most loving regard. Thus, even gaining the once notoriously feared Piccolo Daimaoh Jr. a zealous fan club based on Asteroid E2.

Gohan was a young man and proud father now, but Piccolo still always saw the five-year-old Gohan in such moments when he would profess his undying adoration for him; cheeks blooming roses and stars in his eyes.

Said young man was now struggling to extract the key to their front door from his jeans pocket while trying to keep the load he was carrying balanced—a cliché that most people probably never imagined the strongest being in the galaxy had to grapple with, but as the cliché goes—the said packages teetered precariously and began to topple…!

Gohan’s exclamation is cut short when the said packages suddenly floated up and away from disaster, held steadfast in mid-air by a mild telekinetic field. A distinct click in the background told him that the door to their dwelling too had become unfastened, without any more need for the key.

Swivelling slowly, the awestruck teen spied a green finger that was the source of the magic that endlessly captivated him; and his eyes twinkled even brighter as the said graceful finger was brought before lush green lips and was blown clear of imaginary smoke.

Everything around Gohan ceased to exist at that moment; the door as it swung open, the packages floating in a neat pile around them, and if were possible– even his need to breathe and ticking time itself. All of his world became everything that was his bedazzling Super Namek.

A steam cushioned “Wow.” was all that managed to escape him before he threw himself at Piccolo and sealed purple-tinged, green lips with his own—heatedly pressing, kneading not-so-gently, and mutually bruising; his limbs locking tighter and firmer around as much of Piccolo’s body that it could encompass, looking for all the world like a koala clinging for dear life onto its favourite tree as they sucked and snagged each other with fanatically affectionate caresses and kisses.

‘Your telekinesis has gotten much more powerful!’ he gushed avidly into their shared link.

‘Mmm… been practicing… *E2’s unadulterated environment…’ Piccolo managed to respond to the best of his dulled articulacy at the moment; gently sliding off the teen’s spectacles and flinging it aside to float with the rest of the objects around them as an added demonstration of his heightened magical prowess.

“Show off…” Gohan breathlessly whispered as he took off Piccolo’s own “pretend” eye-glasses and angled himself to nibble on Piccolo’s ear, tongue flicking out and teasing the inner lobe with moist softness.

“Ngghh!” Piccolo’s telekinetic hold wavered as shivers shot up his spine; but Gohan didn’t seem to notice nor care, and the torment to his lover’s sensitive ears persisted.

Now that they were back in the privacy of their home, Gohan clearly had a lot of bottled-up “adoration” to release. Not that he wasn’t enjoying how he was being driven blind with arousal via one of his most erogenous zones, but having to withstand the sensual torment while all of his concentration was needed to balance more than a dozen objects with an experimental higher level of psychokinesis was pushing his mental capacity to overdrive.

Helpless to the eager intrusion, Piccolo could only part his lips obligingly, as Gohan returned to woo his mouth. The demi-Saiyajin’s free hand replaced his tongue to thoroughly trace the grooves of his earlobe and gradually roam farther north to massage the base of his antennae.

Piccolo could only manage to flick out his tongue now and then, barely grazing those hungry demi-Saiyajin lips; whetting and tasting, but pulling back just as quickly as reticent groans and gasps are forced out from his core unbidden – altogether unintentionally depriving the youth the satisfaction of a full-blown torrid kiss.

Gohan growled in frustration after some bouts of it, and clung even tighter to him in an effort to deepen the kiss.

‘Piccolo-san, you’re being a tease!’ the raven-haired boy whinged as he once again pulled the larger frame snug into his own with a force beyond human resistance. Unmistakably, evidence of his frustration was making itself known in the form of the rock-hardness jabbing into the Namek’s firm abdomen. It was Piccolo’s turn to growl at the sensation.

‘Piccolo-san… kiss me… *onegai!’


A loud ‘thunk’ followed by another, and another, reluctantly tore the couple’s attentions away from each other.

Gohan hazily turned in time to see the rest of the packages wobble in the air for a split-second before succumbing to gravity. In a flash he had caught all the important ones: the wine, the cake, and the pizza; saving their Christmas dinner.

“Nice catch,” Piccolo panted shakily, barely able to maintain his posture, but still managing to telekinetically cushion the fall of the remaining packages. Following his mental command, Gohan’s eyeglasses gravitated towards him, and he gently replaced the item on the boy’s face.

With cheeks heavily tinted and eyes looking for all the world like an apologetic kitten’s, Piccolo said, *“Suman. I haven’t gotten the hang of it as well as I thought… It’s much harder to do when you’re err… kissing me… that hard.”

Gohan laughed numbly, feeling nothing else but his arousal, which promptly intensified at the rare coy display. His heavily intoxicated mind all but wanted to jump his husband right there and then; but he knew he didn’t really have to wait that much longer…

“My bad.” He pulled his lover by the sleeve with him as he stepped inside. “That means we just need to keep practising until you can manage it then, Piccolo-san.”


They secured the food and packages without further incident. Gohan then worked to light the fireplace while Piccolo prepared the utensils and wares they would be needing for their simple Christmas dinner. When he had finished setting them on the dish rack to dry (though he always cheated and used a bit of magic when it was his turn for dish-washing duty), he thoughtfully approached Gohan who was getting as impatient as he was cold.

Chucking the matches to one side, the half-breed finally gave in to using a small Ki blast to ignite the logs. He looked up at his approaching partner with one of his signature sheepish titters. Gohan stood up suddenly, his eyes curiously glued to—not Piccolo’s face, rather… to his apron.

The same apron that he had given his Namek husband as an anniversary present (one he had sewn himself); a simple white one with an equally stark yellow and fuzzy *chibi-fied chick embroidered right smack in the middle. Gohan had already seen Piccolo don the apron no less than a dozen times over, and yet it was noteworthy how he never failed to ogle. The boy soon noticed the object of his stare staring at him staring, and it pulled up a nervous laugh from his chest.

Gohan plopped down the couch and motioned for Piccolo to sit – patting the space beside him with an intense expression that Piccolo only recognized too well by now as sexual hunger.

Get your gorgeous Namekian ass over here, now, he could practically feel Gohan’s hooded eyes command his body.

Okay, Piccolo thought, this must be why we didn’t get any appetizer…

The willingly domesticated Super Namek obeyed, feeling the familiar coil in his stomach tighten and burn, sending waves of heat throughout his body—all the way to his toes to the tips of his antennae. He had forgotten to take off the apron before facing Gohan, forgetting the strange effect it always had on the boy…

Too late.

No sooner had he seated his “gorgeous ass” on the couch was he predatorily pounced on, his head falling none-too-gently into a fluffy pile of throw pillows, and just like that, was effectively boxed in by the demi-Saiyajin’s body with no way out. He was straddled and kissed— lightly at first; but then Gohan discarded his eyeglasses and Piccolo was once again arrested by that lidded, lust-hazed stare, as nimble fingers worked to undo his plain white button-up cotton shirt. The more skin was exposed to the boys preying gaze, the more that gaze grew hooded and needy; those fingers noticeably gaining urgency in its task. Intense brown orbs bore into foggy blues, never breaking the connection, not even to blink.

Piccolo thought to ask his partner if he would rather he zapped off the shirt to leave only the apron (as he knew that was what Gohan was ultimately driving for, which was always the case). But he himself was shamefully torn between impatience and the whole thrill of the foreplay; which only got harder to bear as his own body grew hotter and hotter with bated anticipation.

His breathing quickened as Gohan reached underneath the apron to unfasten the rest of the buttons hidden from view; deliberately running lithe fingers over the textured ridges and smooth plateaus of his chest and finally managing to open up the fabric enough to give reign to heated calloused hands over exquisite Namekian skin; kneading up and down in a very stimulating manner.

Piccolo’s heartbeat escalated further, each breath becoming laboured and heavy as he closed his eyes to the mind-numbing sensation of Gohan’s strong touches upon him. He heard a half-growl, half-moan before a hungry mouth closed in on his neck; wasting no time in licking, sucking, and worshipping the gracefully long and muscular expanse of flesh with lips and tongue; as though the taste of him was akin to some sacred dish to be savoured and consumed very slowly.

Those possessive hands and mouth combined with the tantalizing noises made by his lover as he “helped himself” to his body, more than sufficed to awaken his most intimate parts, bringing with it that by now all too familiar feeling of slipping control seeping from his conscious mind; giving way to the takeover of his more primal tendencies. His hands which had been ambivalently pressing against Gohan’s shoulders but accomplishing nothing whatsoever to diminish the intensity of the boy’s onslaught, soon gave in to stroking the raven-haired boy’s nape in encouragement. Eventually, one hand slipped low to Gohan’s back, dangerously close to the base of his tail; resting at the curve of his hip where his claws involuntarily dug little red marks – only stopping short of breaking skin but inflicting just enough pain to make the boy purr in pleasure amidst little jolts of pain.

“Piccolo… nnggh… san!” Gohan heaved in-between kisses, breathing his love’s divine scent as deeply as he could into his soul, riding the euphoric feeling of his mind repeatedly reeling from the addicting sweetness. ‘Piccolo-san… Piccolo-san… Piccolo-san…! I love you…’ came the boy’s thoughts, loud and clear.

Hungry mouths sought each other and exchanged frenzied kisses; all the while, Piccolo tenderly coaxed Gohan to lower his Ki by gently rubbing at his back near his tail’s base (their prearranged signal). As it often did when his passions where misting over his senses, the half-Saiyajin’s energy was spiralling out of control. Piccolo’s breath hitched when he felt that tell-tale spike in the boy’s Ki, knowing full well what it meant: that Gohan’s irises were most certainly glowing Super Saiyajin behind curtained eyelids—and that the boy was oblivious to his transformation again, much too absorbed in their current activity.

The phenomenon used to cause Piccolo considerable alarm, because Gohan would end up continuously ascending and dispersing ridiculous amounts of Ki without even being aware of it. Until Vegeta so “graciously” (and indiscreetly) explained to them (and everyone else present then) when they had formally announced their “engagement”, that it was a “Saiyajin thing”, especially to Saiyajins who had won over their ideal mate and was in the throes of passionate sex with their chosen individual. The Saiyajin prince was quick to add that even if such a thing was hardwired into Saiyajin blood, it rarely ever manifested in its extreme. Because their kind normally mated for more practical reasons – that primarily being the need to simply gratify carnal desires or for the continued survival and proliferation of their species. “Love” was but a myth to most original Saiyajins and was rarely ever the reason for sexual needs—therefore almost hardly ever a requirement. In a nutshell, Saiyajins never needed nor entertained the notion of falling in love, but in the unheard of occasion that they did– it was almost always chaotic and unstoppable. Emotions were the Saiyajin’s key to unlocking and controlling their power, and “love” was that one key that they had trouble using for that purpose; therefore, more often than not, resulted in more destruction to the wielder than to foes. Previously stated case in point was why it was considered foolish and dangerous, and scarcely ever condoned in the first place.

Furthermore, if the courting process was luckily survived,  it would still typically require an insuperable amount of self-control to prevent a frenzied Saiyajin’s Ki from running completely amok while copulating with their lovingly chosen mate and having all that energy explode in a fearsome implosion (or explosion—whichever came first). Of course, Vegeta especially relished further expounding that the danger could be presumed to be even more extreme, if the said Saiyajin supposedly happened to be the “Strongest in the Galaxy” (at which point, most of their Z-Senshi company paled, as opposed to the couple in question with fierce blushes fast staining their faces).

Certain that he could not promise to abstain from making love to his husband even at the expense of the planet, Gohan could only meekly promise everyone that they would be careful… Very, very careful; while getting no solicitation from Piccolo who seemed to have lost his powers of speech at that moment– completely too nonplussed.


As they were a fairly new couple, they were still both learning to help get Gohan’s power in check whenever they did what normal madly in love married couples did. Only, they were anything but normal.

Fortunately, after more than three Earth years of being “madly in love” and having an “above-average active sex life” without any unfortunate incidents of Ki implosions or explosions and such reported so far, it served a reaffirmation to everyone who knew them both– of the running fact that if there was anyone most qualified to get the world’s most powerful Saiyajin’s powers in check, no one was more suited to the job than the Earth-born Namek.

Before that invaluable chunk of knowledge that Vegeta had provided, Gohan did ascend almost two levels worth of Super Saiyajin the very first time they got sexually intimate, and also a greater portion of all the other instances that followed.

But Piccolo’s fears were easily assuaged by the fact that it was Gohan after all, and there was no one in the world he trusted more. That, and truth be told, he rather liked it when Gohan lost control. He would know more than anyone else, how many times the boy relinquished his own desires to meet other’s expectations of him. Which was the very reason he even thought it healthy if the boy actually felt free enough to totally cut lose every now and then; and he was more than honoured to provide a channel for that – even if that “channel” had to be his own body.

That day when Gohan first cleared up all doubts about his feelings for him and they had both allowed a night of intense mindless passion to overtake them, he didn’t expect to wake up from it unscathed. But to Piccolo, any amount of suffering was well worth the price to see Gohan finally do and get what he truly wanted for once.

He couldn’t deny the unimaginable pleasure that he experienced of course, but the pain unintentionally inflicted upon him then, though undoubtedly excruciating at some points—having to withstand not only the physical act of sex for the first time with one of the strongest beings in the universe who wasn’t holding back the slightest but also the full brunt of Super Saiyajin energies coursing through his prone body as the boy took his virginity—was hardly anything compared to how much it hurt to think that that innocent, unselfish boy that he loved more than life itself had been holding back true feelings in his heart for the longest time out of regard for his own. Because Gohan held his best friend’s feelings in the deepest and highest regard. Worrying endlessly about others was never a good thing, but Gohan couldn’t help being that way as anyone who had a good heart intrinsically was. However, as a result, it wound-up the poor boy so tightly he could almost physically choke on all the pressure constantly bearing down on him since a very young age; having to grow up sooner than most, and fight never-ending horrific battles. That, coupled with his mother’s constant nagging about inconsequential matters; his father’s carefree and irresponsible disposition; and lately, the stress that even the public has added to that, with all that’s been happening that got the world hell-bent on learning the true identity of The Golden Warrior.

But Gohan, for some reason, always found comfort and quietude with him; one of the greatest reasons he promised to never leave the boy’s side despite all the challenges that came with that decision.




“Gohan, why weren’t you afraid of me? Despite everything I did to you back then?”

“Likewise, Piccolo-san. Why were you kind to me even if you didn’t have to be? Your answer is as good as mine.”




The truth is, he has never been able to come up with an answer to the question Gohan posed as an answer to his question… It just happened, and it just is. Just like that, they loved each other unconditionally.

Sometimes unanswered questions were the answers in itself; an awakening. It was then that he fully realized—and dared truly acknowledge—how much he needed Gohan too. How much he loved Gohan beyond words; beyond everything– against all logic.

Gohan was the only reason for his continued existence; his sole purpose for fighting and wanting to be strong. True, he defended the Planet Earth as a whole, but without Gohan in it, he knew there would be nothing left on Earth truly worth defending.

The Z-Senshi came to respect his intelligence and wisdom, but even so, he never allowed himself to entertain the idea that he was an indispensable member of their group. Gohan, on the other hand, never once believed that he was any less; his half-human friend was the only one who never gave up on him even in his worst times—even when he was *held hostage in the bowels of HFIL when any chance of rescue seemed futile.




“I never would have become as strong as I am now if once upon a time a demon prince hadn’t deigned to teach a weak, snivelling, and cowardly little half-ling that real strength comes from the heart. That it’s not about how strong you are… it’s about what you’re fighting for

“I’m not going to just stand here and let him die! I’m going to save him, no matter what!”




And you did, Gohan.

More than you know.




“Piccolo-san! Magic off your jeans!”

Gohan’s urgent plea snapped the Namek out of his nostalgia.

Though this was something they’ve done more times than he could count by now, he still found it hard to believe that it was actually happening each time it did. The heightened level of happiness they shared whenever they were together was literally impossible to name.  

Piccolo complied to the request with a shaky flicker of his wrist. His elegant hand was lovingly kissed before being coaxed to flatten against the youth’s perfectly sculpted chest. Gohan then slid his own palms in between seductively long and sturdy thighs, gently pressing them apart.

“G-Gohan…! I think I—” Piccolo only managed to draw in enough breath, before a strangled gasp forces the wind out of him as he felt thick calloused fingers explore his warm wetness. “Ahnnggh!”

Gohan’s eyes glowed translucent green, caught in mid-ascension; unwavering intent in them as they held Piccolo’s half-masted, misted gaze. All the while his fingers did not lag in their movements; dipping in and coaxing more of his mate’s honey to flow out. It didn’t take long for the Super Namek’s hypersensitive opening to begin to swell and Piccolo was all too soon heaving breathless, eyes squeezed shut and unable to stay focused anymore. The half-breed was too mesmerized by the erotic look on his beloved’s face to process right away what he was trying to say; but as soon as he pulled out and brought the wet digits to his mouth to suck the sweetness with zeal, his eyes grew wild.

“Your ovulating!” he burst out.

Piccolo panted some moments more, sending small steam clouds in the slightly chilly room before he could gather enough sense to reply.


“You smell and taste much sweeter when you are…” Gohan commented, attractively lush brows furrowing in concentration as his fingers automatically sought that tight warmth again to resume stimulating his husband from deep inside.

Piccolo gasped, hips bucking involuntarily and fangs digging into his lower lip in an attempt to contain a violent whimper as those fingers hit his most sensitive spot in one particularly enthusiastic push. As expected, he could feel the boy’s temperature rising in the back of his reeling mind; the very symptoms of the demi-Saiyajin’s slipping control.

“G-Gohan! Y-your Ki…!” he somehow still managed to grit out.

Without giving any indication that he heard his love’s words, the raven-haired boy bent down to spread his thighs further apart, peeling the apron to one side to get a full view of his love’s most private parts. Piccolo turned his face the other way as he felt his cheeks burn madly, fangs drawing blood from his quivering lips, and fingers clawing into the couch.

Gohan then continued to touch and stimulate his lover there for some agonizing moments more, all the while intently watching his lover’s expression, thoroughly enjoying the feel of Piccolo’s wet, hot softness lathering and massaging his fingers before he finally stopped and withdrew. But as always, not wanting to let any of his beloved’s essence go to waste – he took his time licking the delicious nectar dripping from three of his fingers that had been eagerly intruding on his love’s searing entrance. He didn’t give Piccolo more time to recover and resumed wooing that tender gushing opening – only this time with his full mouth and tongue.


Piccolo’s body arched off the couch against his own volition but firm hands kept his hips pinned down; legs spread wide enough for Gohan to get all the access he needed, as he drove his lover into a frenzy of moans, whimpers, and shudders. The boy’s tongue relentlessly pelted and irritated the nub that was a hermaphroditic Namek’s most sensitive part, forcing it to throb and swell and become more visible until the slightest touch made his husband tremble and groan throatily, practically teetering at the precipice of delirium from sensory overload.

Gohan knew that even if it was similar in shape to a human male’s penis when aroused, its sensitivity was more comparable to that of a human female’s clitoris; and persistent as he was, he was still careful as he let his mouth travel over the beautiful pinkish-purple organ, his lips caressing with feather-light delicateness before taking it whole into his mouth and sucking; slowly, but forcefully. As he did so, his hand returned to the soaked blushing entrance below, building a rhythm in his thrusts until the narrow purple crevice had swollen and lubricated itself enough to accommodate three hefty fingers to the hilt. The demi-Saiyajin moaned at the sensations in his mouth and fingers: Piccolo’s soft wet heat squeezing him fiercely, and the now aggrandised length throbbing wildly inside his mouth. He only sucked more avidly as his own heavy arousal pulsed painfully within his restricting jeans.

With a stifled scream of his love’s name, Piccolo came long and hard (Gohan practically an expert at prolonging his mate’s orgasm by now; not relenting in his actions until Piccolo was spineless and limp, panting and magnificently spent beneath him). The Namek flushed and shivered as his mate continued to drink every drop of his dew and lick him clean.

Gohan finally resurfaced, his tongue still savouring the aftertaste of his love on his lips. He basked in the sight of his sated beloved, so pretty against the deep-violet couch, inert Ki thrumming all over his majestic Namekian body. He carelessly wiped his mouth with the back of his palm to kiss Piccolo, who was still much too dazed to respond. Cupping the Namek’s handsome face, he diligently lapped up the purple blood and saliva that had oozed down his chin; nursing the cuts on his lips where sharp fangs had ripped it.

“Piccolo-san,” the boy spoke up, his voice a low rasp, still heady with sex; but his Ki was regularizing and his Super Saiyajin form had already dissolved. “I want another baby…”

Impatient for a response, Gohan continued to shower his mate with wooing kisses as he waited. Soft presses to slightly parted lips soon trailed off to one side to worship a sensitive pointy ear with his tongue. Piccolo grunted weakly as jolts of electricity began to reignite a fire in his veins all over again.

“I would really love it if we had another baby, Piccolo-san…” The languid but tantalizing assault to his ear recommenced. When Piccolo remained speechless (mostly because he was still reeling from the powerful orgasm and blissfully disoriented in the afterglow), Gohan sat up on his lap, looking wistful. “Tulip-kun could be lonely.”

Piccolo squeezed his eyes and took a deep breath in another attempt to un-fog his mind. And deciding that he still didn’t have the wits about him to speak, he opted for a telepathic answer, ‘If you want another child that much, then—’

“Really?!” The attractive youth’s face lit up so fast, it almost made Piccolo laugh (if he still wasn’t so physically drained). Instantly strong arms had encircled his neck, soft cheeks pressed against his. ‘I’m so happy, Piccolo-sama! Thank you!’

‘There is really no need for thanks… Isn’t that what married couples do?’

“Yes… But I know how hard pregnancy is for you… I really wish you’d do *what you did to me in Ersatz Earth again so I could be the one to…” the words died in Gohan’s throat as his cheeks burned.

‘I’m working on it.’ Piccolo smiled, fangs and all.

“Piccolo-sama! You make me so happy!” Gohan chirped, planting a chaste kiss to the tip of that perfect button nose he was so fond of. “I’m going to take a shower, then we can have dinner! You are so appetizing, I’m famished!”

Before Piccolo had managed to fully sit up, Gohan was already by the door to their bedroom. The Namek rubbed his nape, only then beginning to fully recover from the mind-blowing high. He remembered Gohan’s own need, and he immediately voiced his concern.

‘Gohan, you’re… uh. You’re still… do you need help?’

‘Oh yeah, I forgot… Bathe with me?’ came the all-too-eager reply.

Piccolo marvelled at how three Earth years worth of marital intimacy had not slowed their sex life one bit; Gohan’s energies when it came to lovemaking virtually inexhaustible. In many ways it was more rigorous than their actual training sessions, which would probably account for why they were both in such tiptop fighting shape. The latter he could still gain the upper hand at, but when it came to sex—something he was fairly new at—Gohan had the power to zap him of all his strength, especially when his Ki threatened to spiral out of control.

‘Piccolo-san… I can hear your thoughts.’ Gohan’s voice piped up with an obvious pout. ‘You should try being a half-Saiyajin madly in love with a Namek too sexy for his own good…’

“I don’t need to… For better or worse, I feel the same way about you.” Piccolo answered aloud, having reached the bathroom entrance just in time to see Gohan step into the tub and wheel around to face him, completely exposed in his need.

The Namek forgot to move for a few moments, mesmerized by those crimson stained cheeks against sun-kist, light-golden skin and the stunning physique before him usually hidden by modest clothing.

‘Uhh, Piccolo-san, it won’t go away if you stare at it. You’re making it worse… especially looking like that.’

‘Ah. Suman.’

Piccolo discarded the flimsy apron, leaving himself completely naked as well – much like their telepathic link that was hardly ever closed now, their minds entirely exposed to the other in one shared consciousness. It almost felt like being fused; except with Gohan, it was unbelievably comfortable.

His muscles still hummed from his earlier orgasms: the ghostly feeling of Gohan’s fingers moving inside him, that hungry mouth all over him, and the heated kisses; all sensations buzzing fresh in his mind, making him shiver inwardly. He took a deep breath as he closed the distance; anticipation coiling in his gut all over again. He moved in to kiss the boy who responded at once, more than welcomingly.

Gohan inhaled sharply as hands wrapped around his throbbing need and began massaging the length of. He groaned in appreciation—it felt so good!—as he was made to lean against the wall, the shower spray hitting them both and sending lukewarm water cascading down their bodies. His lover was efficient, and after only a few minutes, he came hard, with his face buried in his mate’s chest to muffle his (rather loud) cry of pleasure. When the convulsions had subsided, he weakly reached up to pull his Namek down for another leisurely kiss as they slid to the stone floor of tub they had been standing in; their lips still swollen and busted where not-so-accidental bites had ravished it earlier; their blood mixing into a sugary-spicy-coppery tang.

They sat there for a few minutes, Gohan’s naked body straddling Piccolo’s as they let their breathing regulate. The half-breed then sought out that sinewy flesh in the crook of his Namek’s neck and shoulder, sucking idly until he was calm and sated. When their pulses had normalized, Gohan’s voice resonated in Piccolo’s mind:

‘I want a boy this time… I want to name him "Piccolo".’

They untangled from each other as Piccolo slowly got up first with Gohan following suit. Having telepathic conversations during their daily activities—yes, even while bathing—was nothing unusual for them. Piccolo helped Gohan soap and scrub, while Gohan did the same for Piccolo (although mostly just with the scrubbing because he really didn’t need soap. Piccolo always smelled so good naturally; water alone did wonders to cleanse a Namek inside-out).

‘I’m not sure he will like that name…’

Gohan turned to look at his mate, fixing him with a meaningful and somewhat hurt glare. ‘"Piccolo" is a beautiful name.’

The Namek’s long fingers lightly brushed over the demi-Saiyajin’s forehead, sweeping aside wet strands of soaked ebony fringe from his face, tilting his chin upward slightly, and his thumb caressing the boy’s lower lip with feather touches as he replied matter-of-factly, ‘So is "Gohan".’

The boy wrinkled his nose despite his blushing cheeks. ‘Not nearly as wonderful as "Piccolo".’

“We aren’t exactly disagreeing on anything here, are we?” voiced the taller of the two.

“No… I guess not.” Gohan chuckled.

‘Why don’t we ask him when he’s conceived?’

Gohan smiled brightly. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

After rinsing under the shower spray where they felt the pressing need to kiss some more, they both stepped out of the tub. Piccolo telekinetically wrapped a towel around Gohan, and then magically dried his body off before restoring a suitable domestic garb on himself.




The countdown to the eve of Christmas was quietly spent outdoors in their garden beneath the starry night (which was warmer than it should have been—just the right temperature for cosy cuddling, in fact—thanks to Piccolo’s magic) as their modest Christmas Eve dinner was promptly consumed. Gohan curled up snugly atop Piccolo while said Namek’s back, in turn, was sprawled comfortably on a cosy divan he conjured; both of them bundled in each other’s bodily heat while further cocooned in multiple layers of quilts and comforters.

They sleepily watched the fireworks display in the boundless and distant horizon, catching sight of several shooting stars higher up the dark clouds while they did. Gohan remarked with a yawn that maybe it was time to wish back the moon that Piccolo had obliterated when he was a child. Piccolo responded that he wasn’t sure if that was wise just yet since Gohan had recently grown back his tail *when he transformed on E2…

Both of them had dozed off under the starlit sky before they could come to an agreement on the topic, dreaming a shared dream of a fuzzy Oozaru and a giant Super Namek wrestling in the barren wastelands of their childhood under a big bright full moon…

End of the first half.
Continued in the second half…

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