Rules of the Game
folder
Dragon Ball Z › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,486
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Dragon Ball Z › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,486
Reviews:
24
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Rules
Summary: Taking place in the future timeline, Juunanagou and Gohan (about 18 years old) find themselves wound up in an intense game. \"Everytime you said that [fuck] to me is how many times I\'ll do it to you.\"Warnings: M/M, N/C
Disclaimer: I\'m a college student, don\'t sue!
Rules of the Game
Gohan stumbled through the desolate city streets trying desperately to maintain his speed, balance, and breathing. He recognized this part of town. There was the school on the next block, a public library, a quaint and cozy diner, the first national bank. It had been reduced to shambles since they came. Everything was a game to them, even lives. He could feel the blood from the fresh gash along his left temple oozing down his cheek, almost over his chin and down his neck. He was sweating, but he was so cold and dizzy from the battle he had just had with Juunanagou. The air stabbed his lungs like broken glass; his legs felt like they were made of cement.
He couldn\'t see him and he heard nothing. Ducking behind what were the remains of a brick wall, he hid. For a moment he felt safe, but that feeling never lasted for too long.
\"You\'re a fast runner. You almost had me going.\" The figure before him smirked coldly, his icy stare digging into the half-saiyajin\'s skull. He was about 5\'8\", thin but muscular- but nothing like the bulkiness of Gohan- his skin was smooth and creamy with no imperfections. His hair, a fine raven black, hung nanometers above his shoulders. The sky blue eyes that stared out of his face were calm, yet fierce. He was a menace, a killer, a wrecking ball on legs. He was artificial human number Seventeen.
Gohan fell to his rear at the sheer shock of the boy before him. He scooted away frantically until his back pressed into the rough bricks, but the android closed in the gap, kicking a pebble as he did so.
\"You didn\'t like our game, Gohan? But I thought it was really fun, a \'killer\' time, you could say.\" His lips curled into a pleasant smile; his left hand rested on his hip above the gun sitting in its holster. If he weren?t wearing such funny clothes, he\'d be the poster child for those horrid black and white western movies.
\"Stand up.\" Juunana growled impatiently, narrowing his eyes.
Gohan tried, but his legs didn\'t work; they were like congealing wax- soft in the middle, and hard and brittle on the outside, cracking whenever he attempted to put his weight on them. Juunana looked irritated at the boy\'s incompetence. He waited, almost patiently, until Gohan stood to his feet. Gohan\'s orange martial arts gi was crusted with blood, torn at the seems, stained, and had a thin film of sweat glistening on the cotton threads. He pressed his body deeper into the bricks, his face clenched in an angry and frightened scowl. His fists were so tight that his short fingernails dig into the skin; he had blood on his fingers. Now that Juunanagou had him pinned, there was no escape. Gohan shuddered.
\"Want to play again?\" Juunanagou questioned jovially, flashing a perfect smile and running a hand through his hair.
\"Fuck you.\" The words escaped his lips before his brain could click in and say, \"If you say that, you\'re going to end up dead!\"
\"What did you say to me?\" He dropped his voice to a menacing whisper. A shadow danced across Juunana\'s haunting features; it reminded Gohan of kids at camp holding a flashlight under their chins while telling scary stories. But this was actually frightening. He had done it now.
\"Fuck you! That\'s what I said to you! Your perfect ears heard me.\" Gohan was trembling. \"Just leave us alone, Juunanagou, I can\'t take anymore of your destruction, the killing. You kill for pleasure. That\'s fucking sick, Juunanagou!\"
Juunana was entertained by the irrational outburst from his captive. He shifted his weight onto his back foot and waited for Gohan to finish, his eyes never breaking their emotionless stare.
\"What you and your sister are doing isn\'t fair! It\'s not fair--\"
\"Fair?\" Juunana\'s voice was smooth, calm, yet possessed a trace of emotion that didn\'t exist before this moment. \"Would you like to me to tell you what is fair?\" He stepped closer; he was only eight inches away from the trembling, bleeding, terrified saiyajin.
\"Is it fair to be a normal kid one day, and someone\'s insane experiment the next? Is it fair to have no recollection, no memories- nothing! - of what you once were? Is it fair to have everything stripped away and then someone\'s demented bullshit replacing it? I was killed. What I do is nothing. Those people. . .\" He paused. The emotion in his voice became rawer, more vibrant. He roughly grabbed Gohan\'s hair and pulled his face toward his lips. Gohan yelped and attempted to suppress a pained gasp. Juunanagou\'s lips brushed the shell of Gohan\'s ear as he continued, \"Those people die knowing who they are. Their \'loved ones\' can always look back on that: the memories. That isn\'t death if you have memories. That is fair. And don\'t you ever swear at me again, Gohan.\"
Juunanagou lashed out and grabbed Gohan tightly around his neck, then threw Gohan against the wall in a rage. The grout gave way and Gohan\'s upper body crushed the bricks beneath his weight as he fell completely through the wall. He groaned. The pain was consuming him. When would it end? Soon, probably, he really had done it to himself this time.
Gohan, sitting up slowly, placed his hand over his ear. Juunana\'s breath had been cool, so very unlike that of a human. And the cool hands on his neck but moments later were nothing like the living hands of humans. He had begun to bleed again from the scrape on his temple. Gohan\'s dark eyes roamed up the body of Juunana, unsure of his next move; he could feel his muscles contract and tense in anticipation of the oncoming blow.
Juunanagou took a step back and inspected his captive. He was bleeding from the gash he had just inflicted, his clothes were torn, a black eye, swollen lip, torn hair, bruised back, perhaps a broken rib. Cuts and scrapes everywhere. But it was his eyes that drew Juunana in. Dark and dilated, unsure, afraid. And the faint smell of blood. If he took a step closer he could probably taste it in the air.
Juunana\'s calm and emotionless façade returned. He licked his lips and the half smile returned. His slender fingers pushed some loose strands of hair behind his ear. An idea struck him then.
\"Stand up Gohan. I have an idea for another game.\" His smile widened. \"Come on. Stand.\" His voice retained no harshness from the moment before. \"Don\'t make me help you to your feet, it?s so uncharacteristic of me.\"
Finding his footing, the tattered saiyajin rose to his feet. The pain in his back caused him to stoop forward; his pre pressed firmly on the erect section of the wall for balance. The blood ran in a small rivulet over his flushed cheeks, down his chin, and splatted in a puddle in the dirt. Please, just let it be over, I can\'t take it anymore. He was dizzy, stumbling, he almost fell. So cold, so sweaty.
\"My idea for our new game is simply brilliant!\" Juunana chimed. His eyes seemed to light up, but it was so difficult to tell with the shadows that the setting sun casted to the west. \"Every time you swore at me. . . What word did you use, Gohan?\"
\"Fuck.\"
\"Yes, that\'s it. \'Fuck\'. For every time you swore at me is how many times I\'ll do it to you.\" Yes, Juunana was pleased with himself; what a clever idea.
Gohan became rigid; he was the literal deer in headlights. Wait, repeat that. Did he mean that? Gods, no. Keep your mouth shut or he\'ll do worse.
\"So tell me Gohan, how many times did you say that naughty word to me?\"
\". . . Three.\"
\"Technically, you said it four times, but I\'ll drop that last time. Aren\'t I nice, Gohan?\"
Gohan was frozen. His stomach lurched, he could scarcely breathe. So dizzy, feet like wet noodles, lungs filled with fiberglass. Everything went dark. It all hurt so much, and it was bound to get much worse.
A/N:Please comment, I would like to hear from you! Your comments help me finish the following chapters. Thank you!
To be continued. . .
Disclaimer: I\'m a college student, don\'t sue!
Gohan stumbled through the desolate city streets trying desperately to maintain his speed, balance, and breathing. He recognized this part of town. There was the school on the next block, a public library, a quaint and cozy diner, the first national bank. It had been reduced to shambles since they came. Everything was a game to them, even lives. He could feel the blood from the fresh gash along his left temple oozing down his cheek, almost over his chin and down his neck. He was sweating, but he was so cold and dizzy from the battle he had just had with Juunanagou. The air stabbed his lungs like broken glass; his legs felt like they were made of cement.
He couldn\'t see him and he heard nothing. Ducking behind what were the remains of a brick wall, he hid. For a moment he felt safe, but that feeling never lasted for too long.
\"You\'re a fast runner. You almost had me going.\" The figure before him smirked coldly, his icy stare digging into the half-saiyajin\'s skull. He was about 5\'8\", thin but muscular- but nothing like the bulkiness of Gohan- his skin was smooth and creamy with no imperfections. His hair, a fine raven black, hung nanometers above his shoulders. The sky blue eyes that stared out of his face were calm, yet fierce. He was a menace, a killer, a wrecking ball on legs. He was artificial human number Seventeen.
Gohan fell to his rear at the sheer shock of the boy before him. He scooted away frantically until his back pressed into the rough bricks, but the android closed in the gap, kicking a pebble as he did so.
\"You didn\'t like our game, Gohan? But I thought it was really fun, a \'killer\' time, you could say.\" His lips curled into a pleasant smile; his left hand rested on his hip above the gun sitting in its holster. If he weren?t wearing such funny clothes, he\'d be the poster child for those horrid black and white western movies.
\"Stand up.\" Juunana growled impatiently, narrowing his eyes.
Gohan tried, but his legs didn\'t work; they were like congealing wax- soft in the middle, and hard and brittle on the outside, cracking whenever he attempted to put his weight on them. Juunana looked irritated at the boy\'s incompetence. He waited, almost patiently, until Gohan stood to his feet. Gohan\'s orange martial arts gi was crusted with blood, torn at the seems, stained, and had a thin film of sweat glistening on the cotton threads. He pressed his body deeper into the bricks, his face clenched in an angry and frightened scowl. His fists were so tight that his short fingernails dig into the skin; he had blood on his fingers. Now that Juunanagou had him pinned, there was no escape. Gohan shuddered.
\"Want to play again?\" Juunanagou questioned jovially, flashing a perfect smile and running a hand through his hair.
\"Fuck you.\" The words escaped his lips before his brain could click in and say, \"If you say that, you\'re going to end up dead!\"
\"What did you say to me?\" He dropped his voice to a menacing whisper. A shadow danced across Juunana\'s haunting features; it reminded Gohan of kids at camp holding a flashlight under their chins while telling scary stories. But this was actually frightening. He had done it now.
\"Fuck you! That\'s what I said to you! Your perfect ears heard me.\" Gohan was trembling. \"Just leave us alone, Juunanagou, I can\'t take anymore of your destruction, the killing. You kill for pleasure. That\'s fucking sick, Juunanagou!\"
Juunana was entertained by the irrational outburst from his captive. He shifted his weight onto his back foot and waited for Gohan to finish, his eyes never breaking their emotionless stare.
\"What you and your sister are doing isn\'t fair! It\'s not fair--\"
\"Fair?\" Juunana\'s voice was smooth, calm, yet possessed a trace of emotion that didn\'t exist before this moment. \"Would you like to me to tell you what is fair?\" He stepped closer; he was only eight inches away from the trembling, bleeding, terrified saiyajin.
\"Is it fair to be a normal kid one day, and someone\'s insane experiment the next? Is it fair to have no recollection, no memories- nothing! - of what you once were? Is it fair to have everything stripped away and then someone\'s demented bullshit replacing it? I was killed. What I do is nothing. Those people. . .\" He paused. The emotion in his voice became rawer, more vibrant. He roughly grabbed Gohan\'s hair and pulled his face toward his lips. Gohan yelped and attempted to suppress a pained gasp. Juunanagou\'s lips brushed the shell of Gohan\'s ear as he continued, \"Those people die knowing who they are. Their \'loved ones\' can always look back on that: the memories. That isn\'t death if you have memories. That is fair. And don\'t you ever swear at me again, Gohan.\"
Juunanagou lashed out and grabbed Gohan tightly around his neck, then threw Gohan against the wall in a rage. The grout gave way and Gohan\'s upper body crushed the bricks beneath his weight as he fell completely through the wall. He groaned. The pain was consuming him. When would it end? Soon, probably, he really had done it to himself this time.
Gohan, sitting up slowly, placed his hand over his ear. Juunana\'s breath had been cool, so very unlike that of a human. And the cool hands on his neck but moments later were nothing like the living hands of humans. He had begun to bleed again from the scrape on his temple. Gohan\'s dark eyes roamed up the body of Juunana, unsure of his next move; he could feel his muscles contract and tense in anticipation of the oncoming blow.
Juunanagou took a step back and inspected his captive. He was bleeding from the gash he had just inflicted, his clothes were torn, a black eye, swollen lip, torn hair, bruised back, perhaps a broken rib. Cuts and scrapes everywhere. But it was his eyes that drew Juunana in. Dark and dilated, unsure, afraid. And the faint smell of blood. If he took a step closer he could probably taste it in the air.
Juunana\'s calm and emotionless façade returned. He licked his lips and the half smile returned. His slender fingers pushed some loose strands of hair behind his ear. An idea struck him then.
\"Stand up Gohan. I have an idea for another game.\" His smile widened. \"Come on. Stand.\" His voice retained no harshness from the moment before. \"Don\'t make me help you to your feet, it?s so uncharacteristic of me.\"
Finding his footing, the tattered saiyajin rose to his feet. The pain in his back caused him to stoop forward; his pre pressed firmly on the erect section of the wall for balance. The blood ran in a small rivulet over his flushed cheeks, down his chin, and splatted in a puddle in the dirt. Please, just let it be over, I can\'t take it anymore. He was dizzy, stumbling, he almost fell. So cold, so sweaty.
\"My idea for our new game is simply brilliant!\" Juunana chimed. His eyes seemed to light up, but it was so difficult to tell with the shadows that the setting sun casted to the west. \"Every time you swore at me. . . What word did you use, Gohan?\"
\"Fuck.\"
\"Yes, that\'s it. \'Fuck\'. For every time you swore at me is how many times I\'ll do it to you.\" Yes, Juunana was pleased with himself; what a clever idea.
Gohan became rigid; he was the literal deer in headlights. Wait, repeat that. Did he mean that? Gods, no. Keep your mouth shut or he\'ll do worse.
\"So tell me Gohan, how many times did you say that naughty word to me?\"
\". . . Three.\"
\"Technically, you said it four times, but I\'ll drop that last time. Aren\'t I nice, Gohan?\"
Gohan was frozen. His stomach lurched, he could scarcely breathe. So dizzy, feet like wet noodles, lungs filled with fiberglass. Everything went dark. It all hurt so much, and it was bound to get much worse.
A/N:Please comment, I would like to hear from you! Your comments help me finish the following chapters. Thank you!
To be continued. . .