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To Savor You More	By : debbiechan Category: Dragon Ball Z > General Views: 1366 -:- Recommendations : 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.

Chapter List
- 1-To Savor You More
- 1
To Savor You More

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: I don’t own DBZ, but those who do probably strayed from Toriyama’s vision more than many fanfiction authors.

Warning: One brief but explicit reference to a sexual act with a minor.
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Your eyes, your foolishness….

~Frieza to Vegeta, Japanese episode 78, Dragonball Z

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The Icejin Lord was in a good mood.
Leaning far into his chair, he ignored the panorama of stars in the ship’s viewshield for a sight held only in his imagination. His clawed feet rested on the control panel. His red-pupiled eyes were fixed on the dark ceiling.
"He’s here, Lord Frieza."
With a light push of his feet against the panel, Frieza spun his chair to face the interior of his ship’s bridge.
There, a green-haired man stood watching the surveillance monitor with a weary expression. "He looks as agitated and insane as ever, my lord." The words were spoken in gentle voice but with undisguised sourness. "Shall I leave the two of you alone?"
"There, there, Zarbon." Frieza smiled a thin, black-lipped smile. "You’ve already told me that he’s refused the assignment. I doubt I can change his mind. I only want to play with him a little. I’ll need you outside in the hallway. He’ll probably come out blasting and--well, you know how he’s been in the past. Maintenance still hasn’t removed the bloodstains from the fine latticework in the officers’ lounge." Frieza’s smile faded. "Perhaps I should let him tantrum on the quarterdeck. Not much delicate equipment there."
"Lord Frieza, he hasn’t killed anyone on return from a mission for years now. I believe he’s mellowing."
"Oh, I think I’m going to stir him up this time. Now don’t give me that look, Zarbon. Petulance does not become you."
The green-haired lieutenant bowed from the waist. "Is there anything else?"
Frieza glanced at the surveillance monitor. "His men are with him. Interesting. They’re not wearing armor." Frieza took note of the disrespectfulness of the Saiyan squad’s not dressing properly to see their Icejin Lord. They must have come straight from the gymnasium when their monkey leader was summoned. "Stare down his men in the hallway, Zarbon. I only want to see Vegeta."
"Yes, Lord Frieza."
The doors hissed open and Zarbon stepped outside. A moment later the doors opened again, and a small figure in black took one step into the room and dropped to bow on one knee. Frieza noted that the soldier’s white boots looked at least one size too large. The man wore no armor. His shoulders stretched the tight black regulation uniform amply enough, but the arms and legs looked spindlier than the last time Frieza had seen them.
"Stand up, Vegeta. I want to get a good look at you."
Why, he’d grown. The soldier was well into manhood for his species, perhaps slightly taller than Frieza now. That Saiyan tail was wrapped loosely around a slight waist, and the furry tip closed the loop against a jutting hipbone.
P>&qP>"Remind me. How old are you?"
"Twenty-six standard."
"How time flies." Frieza hopped out of his chair, and his clawed feet made a thin scratching noise on the metallic floor as he approached the soldier. "Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta…" He singsang the name with menacing affection.
When he stopped, he stood only inches away from the soldier’s frowning face. A mere turn of the head and one of the Icejin Lord’s thick horns would spear Vegeta’s temple.
The soldier stared straigheadhead, unflinching.
"Twenty-six. That’s young yet." Frieza tipped his head back slightly and smiled. I’m looking forward to many more years of service from such a hardy young specimen as yourself. The Saiyans are a long-lived—pardon me, were a long-lived people, no?"
Frieza waited to feel the exhalation of air from Vegeta’s nostrils, but there wasn’t even the slightest puff.
Vegeta continued to stare at some fixed point behind Frieza. For so many years the soldier’s usual expression had been one of such jaws-clenched severity that it was now possible for that very angry face to seem expressionless. Frieza searched the grim features for any hint that the Saiyan had been addled.
"Are you really so stoic now?" Frieza clasped his hands behind his back and began to walk slow circles around Vegeta. "I must commend you, soldier, on how you’ve learned to keep that brutish temper of your kind in check these past years." He opened the distance between himself and Vegeta as he circled, but only so he could better appraise the figure standing at strict attention there.
It looked far leaner than the Icejin Lord had expected. The neck seemed too small for the head, and although strong abdominal muscles were plain under the tight black uniform, there was a pronounced dip at the Saiyan’s belly. And deep hollows on either side of each knee.
"The Saiyans were such impetuous beasts. Brave warriors, but their overconfidence was forever revealing their stupidity. You, Vegeta, have learned something of restraint in my service. A testament to the disine ine of my ship, but I do know what a passionate little monkey you really are."
At that, the nostrils flared and the black eyes flashed.
Encouraged, Frieza’s voice lilted upwards. "I do find it a pity that you must leave for another grueling mission so soon. My lieutenants tell me you have earned quite a bit of leisure time and haven’t made use of it yet. I offered you a port assignment at the next fueling station--an excellent opportunity to pick up some negotiating skills, see the sights, sample the exotic cuisine. Why did you not take my gift, Vegeta?"
"I prefer battle to politics, Lord Frieza. I am a warrior, not a diplomat."
"True." Frieza eased himself backwards into his chair and heaved a dramatic sigh. "That dark glare of yours does make a striking first impression, though. I like my representatives to look both menacing and cultured. I had imagined that if Zarbon cleaned you up a bit, but…." Another sigh. "I suppose one can only dress up a stupid monkey, not change its bestial nature."
Frieza waited for the eyes to flash again, but Vegeta only shifted his weight slightly from one leg to another and still stood there, unperturbed.

"Look, I know that you are not the partying type, but surely your men would appreciate following you to a brief space-port commission. The multi-species milieu, the nightlife, the many opportunities for mindless brawls your kind are so fond of. Your two monkeys would be forever grateful to their prince if you take this little assignment."
"I don’t care about my men."
Frieza chuckled. "You really don’t, do you?"
If Frieza had thought for one moment that killing off Vegeta’s squadron would have broken the willful soldier standing before him, Vegeta’s men would have been dead long ago. In fact, Raditz and Nappa served Frieza’s purposes as well as they served their little prince. Without them, how could Vegeta truly be humiliated? Other races did not care if the Saiyan prince was kicked, starved, or subjugated into running field errands.
Frieza recalled with amusement the time Captain Ginyu rerouted a Saiyan mission just so Vegeta could convoy reconnaissance equipment to Ginyu’s encampment. How bitterly Vegeta had complained to his lord! Until Frieza, so very near earshot of Vegeta’s men, threed Ved Vegeta with the information that Ginyu was more in need of a talented whore than an errand boy. Yes, the Icejin Lord needed Nappa and Raditz to be the audience before whom the prince could potentially be shamed. Vegeta did not fear much, but he did fear his weaknesses being revealed.
And no other knew those weaknesses except for the Icejin Lord.
Frieza’s tongue clucked in disapproval. "You look thin, Vegeta," he said.
"I can take down any one of your fat lieutenants in three moves."
Frieza smiled. "Arrogant as always. Your power level has increased significantly over a short time, but it’s nowhere near that of my closest officers. It’s your arrogance and your bestial nature that keep you back, Vegeta. You could be standing on the bridge by my side were you not such a stupid, stupid monkey."
The soldier was not going to speak; he was not even going to allow a response to the insult to show in his face. But Frieza could see it. The utter silence in that face was a response in itself. Even though the cheeks were gaunt and the eyes were tinged with an unnatural, feverish redness, that face held an obstinate nobility.
Frieza could still recognize the prince in the soldier.
And Frieza saw the king’s face each time the prince stood before him.
"I’m going to defeat you and control the universe myself." Such foolish words. Had the king of the Saiyans actually believed them? Frieza had not wanted to kill the big fool or any one of the spiky-haired warriors standing behind him. Neither had Frieza wanted to destroy the whole of Vegetasei. It was too valuable an asset; the planet of such talented fighters (a race born to kill!) could have served the Kold Empire for ages to come.
But a stupid rebellion could not go unanswered. Defiance was catching. The Saiyans were a people easily stirred to war. There would’ve been another successor to the king’s brazen effrontery in no time, and Frieza did not have the patience to knock down one fool after another as they rose to avenge their king--better to take out the lot of them in one stroke.
So Frieza made a fireworks display of Vegetasei. And a six-year-old prince, the jewel of that cruel red planet, was all his.
The plan had been to shape the boy into Frieza’s own image. The Icejin Lord had acquired many a devoted officer that way. Lavishing a very young one with equal parts terror and affection would fashion a soul into complete dependence. But Vegeta was never broken enough to make over again--was the whole Saiyan race this stubborn or just their fiery little prince?
Frieza told the prince that his planet had been so technologically infantile that it could not avert the asteroid storm that destroyed it. Frieza vilified Vegeta’s father as a king who had brokered his son’s freedom in exchange for peace. But the lies did not do much towards severing the boy’s allegiance to his race--even though Vegeta did appear to believe them at first (Frieza suspected ship gossip had re-educated the boy in time). The boy hated everyone, it seemed. He hated his dead father, his own men, Frieza, Frieza’s army, and perhaps even himself, but some strange pride in his Saiyan heritage kept him fierce and defiant.
And so Frieza learned to manipulate Vegeta by inciting the competitor in the Saiyan. Frieza himself didn’t have any rivals to his own physical strength, so he enjoyed power struggles of other kinds.
He wondered if perhaps he didn’t enjoy them too much. It would be far quicker to force Vegeta to take a diplomatic position than to coerce him into accepting one willingly.
Standing there before Frieza now was a slight but sinewy figure with a face that was somehow implacable but wild--and a will that was as yet unbroken. It unnerved the Icejin Lord a bit to realize that the game had been going on now for twenty years.
"Very well," Frieza spoke again, this time feigning a tone of perfect self-composure. "Refuse the space-port commission, but allow me to reassign your Saiyans on-ship temporarily."
"As you wish."
"Really? You want to embark on this next mission alone? You can’t purge any of the planets in the Tora system single-handedly. I’ve never known you to be suicidal, Vegeta."
"I’ve never known you to over-estimate my abilities. I can do it."
Frieza rose out of his chair again but walked away from Vegehis his time to fidget at some keys on the control panel. Giving an opponent the illusion of self-determination was always part of Frieza’s strategy, and Vegeta, because of his impossible arrogance, was easy to play for a fool. While his back was turned to the soldier, Frieza made sure that his body did not conceal the monitor screen pulling up names and destinations for purging missions. Then he turned around and attempted to look mildly annoyed.
"Fine. You’ve forced my hand. I don’t want to lose you, so you will take your men for this one mission. But I’ll reassign them upon your return. They deserve a break. Your men look thin too, although not so scraggly as you."
"Your men look fat." Vegeta’s bottom lip was jutting forward in an imperious way, as if he were addressing an equal.
Oh, so the little soldier was going to play after all?
"Dodoria makes an easy target for assassins," Vegeta added.
"! T! That little piece of scandal is still entertaining the soldiers, I see." Frieza folded his arms. A little insolence from Vegeta was entertaining, but the thought of other soldiers mocking his officers irritated the Icejin Lord. "I’ll have you know that Dodoria didn’t die, and the insurgent on Base Five was speedily punished, so you’re not illustrating your point here."
"My point was that your men are not as invincible as you think they are. If they saw actual combat, they would not be so satisfied and slow."
"I appreciate the advice on how to manage my officers, but you should really look after your own, Vegeta. Saiyans are very high maintenance beasts. If you continue to lead your men from mission to mission without a break, all that time in stasis between planets is going to wear them down."
Vegeta’s eyes looked like they were coming to life. They darted a little from side to side, and Frieza could almost see the response as it formed in the soldier’s mind. Vegeta had been waiting for this opportunity. "It would not be difficult for your dock crews to increase the bio-support for our pods," Vegeta said.
"Have you requested a caloric increase, Vegeta?"
"It was denied."
"And you didn’t come to me to complain? Why, Vegeta, you know that I favor you. You are a raw but valuable commodity."
Vegeta didn’t miss a beat. "My men and I have been providing for ourselves. Saiyans are skilled hunters."
"Grotesque scavengers, you mean. Really, Vegeta, it’s one thing to kill the civilian inhabitants of a planet. That’s business as usual. But do you really need to eat your victims? Reconnaissance videos have been showing me the gorier side of your Saiyan nature."
Frieza could see immediately that Vegeta regretted getting into a verbal sparring match with his superior. The Saiyan’s mouth dropped open but words failed him. His dark, elegant eyebrows drew apart a little in confusion. Frieza felt a current of pleasure slash through his insides at the sight.
"If this savage life is the one you prefer to that of an officer on my ship, then far be it from me to try to change your monkey ways. Perhaps on a lucky day, in hand-to-hand combat, you could defeat my Zarbon in three moves, but his superior intelligence will always guarantee that you never get the chance for such a crude contest--do you get my meaning, Vegeta?"
The escalating emotion in Vegeta’s face was delicious. Sinews in that thin neck flexed, and the chin actually twitched. The Icejin Lord felt a pang of nosia fia for the soft contours of Vegeta’s face as a boy. He did not find the gauntness of this adult Vegeta’s face to be as pleasing to look upon, but the game was the same.
When Vegeta had been a child, Frieza’s efforts towards turning him into a proper subordinate had been so frustrating that the Icejin Lord concluded that the only sport might be to push the boy into destroying himself. Frieza had wanted to see tears and hear supplications; instead he got a fierce-faced brat who blasted up rooms, valuable equipment, and the occasional valuable employee.
No one understood at first why Frieza indulged Vegeta’s tantrums.
"You’re starving yourself, Vegeta. Do you remember the last time this happened? Why do you punish yourself in this way?"
It had been Frieza, of course, who had denied the boy food. The prince had not cracked under the humiliation of beatings, so Frieza had tried starving him.
"I know what’s best for you, so why do you insist on this fruitless defiance? Do you mean to drive yourself into that sorry state again?" Frieza’s voice did not veer from its affected sweetness. "You were a half-mad, half-starved, but totally compliant little boy. Is hunger your greatest weakness, Saiyan? What a simple animal you are."
Frieza bent forward, cupped his hand over his mouth, and like one child reminding another of a secret, whispered the words into Vegeta’s ear: "You were so hungry that you swallowed every drop of me. You licked your lips, Ve-ge-tahhh."

The last sighed syllable of the name stirred a small spike of black hair above Vegeta’s ear.
Frieza closed his eyes and felt more heat pulsing inside himself. The memory was a delicious keepsake--how the boy’s face looked as it rose from the Icejin Lord’s lap. Frieza had snatched the hair to keep that face in view longer--the eyes clenched shut, the thin rosy lips parted and trembling, the little ferocious tongue working as if there was still something in its mouth to taste.
Frieza’s cheeks and lips flushed hot; he opened his eyes and felt as though a sudden draft of warm air was being blown back into his face. This heat was outside his body--
He took one step back. The soldier had not moved a muscle, but, yes, the air around Vegeta’s head and shoulders was appreciably hotter. Yes, he was powering up! The stupid soldier wasn’t conjuring energy intentionally and was not even aware of the heat he was emanating. The facial expression hadn’t changed much--but the eyes were shinier, the lips pursed tighter.
"There, there. No need to get defensive. I’m not looking for a fight." Frieza could not contain the glee in his voice. "Why end this lovely game now when you know you don’t have the strength to challenge me cou could kill you with one blow just like I killed your father, but why would I do that, Vegeta? I need to savor you more."
Vegeta looked down, turned his palms upwards, and looked at them. The soldier was not in control anymore. For one thrilling moment, Frieza thought that Vegeta would indeed not be able to reign in his power, but then he watched the soldier compose himself with amazing efficiency. Vegeta clenched and unclenched his hands and brought them down to his sides.
Then Vegeta, for the first time since he had entered the room, turned to look Frieza in the eye.

Frieza felt his stomach lurch from the explicit rage in that face. Oh yes, there’s my mad monkey. He stood, braced with delight, under the Saiyan’s gaze.
"Lord Frieza, you may have noticed…." Vegeta swallowed and spoke in a deadly even tone. "I’m no longer a boy who performs tricks."
"Maybe not." Frieza felt his body slacken as he realized that Vegeta was not going to throw himself into a physical confrontation. "But you are a very little man who does as I bid you."
"It just so happens that whatever I do under your command is what I would be doing anyway. My Saiyan appetite is for killing. It is my only passion."
"Believe what you want, Vegeta. destdestroy some worlds. You’ll come back to me. You always do."
Vegeta did not waste a second understanding that he was dismissed; he snapped a quick, perfunctory bow, turned around with deliberate dignity, and left the room.

Fascinating, thought Frieza, not yet feeling the absence of his favorite plaything. He never forgets to bow to his lord.

The surveillance monitor showed Vegeta’s men, two hulking monkey creatures, crng tng their prince in the hallway. Vegeta slammed the bald-headed one away and continued to stomp down the corridor. Zarbon, who had been leaning against the wall, uncrossed his arms, and his indolent posture stiffened into one of alertness. It appeared that Zarbon was calling some words of warning to Vegeta. Then Vegeta turned, raised his palm and shot a white blast of noiseless light.

No! Vegeta wouldn’t end it now, would he?

When the smoke cleared, the two Saiyans were sitting on the floor with their arms raised in defensive postures. Zarbon was standing, arms pressed to the wall, his green braid of hair tossed against his face, his short cape still billowing. Right in front of the three, the floor curved into a shallow pool of molten metal, and the hallway walls were scorched black.
Vegeta was gone.
Such bravado. It was admirable, really. Frieza turned his gaze from the monitor to the door as Zarbon entered, his green hair rearranged as though nothing had happened. Zarbon stepped lightly and bowed with all the cultured breeziness Frieza could ever expect from a first officer. Frieza thought: Vegeta could never be fostered to this state of mildness and restraint.

"That went well," Zarbon remarked dryly. "The deck cleared as soon as people heard he was here, and obviously he couldn’t kill his own men."
And then the Icejin Lord wondered: Is Vegeta going to come back alone? A cold instinct told him that either Nappa and Raditz would not survive the Tora purge or that Vegeta would find some way to kill the two.
The idea was not a cheering one. A Vegeta without his men, a Vegeta who was the last of his kind, would be more willing to challenge Frieza to a desperate last confrontation. Not that Frieza didn’t look forward to finally killing the object of his affections--with rapturously slow tormenting gestures--but Frieza did not want the game to end. When again was he going to find such a durable plaything?
Frieza’s white-gloved hand pecked a series of codes on his control panel.
"Zarbon, I’ve just instructed the dock crew to increase the caloric content in bio-support for this Saiyan mission. And I want you to make sure that Vegeta knows of the change. Instruct the foreman to say that Lord Frieza made some expensive adjustments to bio-support and that Vegeta should be grateful for my solicitous attention to the needs of his species." Frieza removed his hand from the control panel and laid it on the chair arm as if the whole undertaking of entering data had been an exhausting effort. "Really, Saiyans are such bottomless pits. I wonder sometimes if they’re worth feeding ten times as much as my other men."
"Yes, Lord Frieza. Shall I go right away? The Saiyan pods are already prepped. Vegeta may very well take off before the scheduled departure time."
"Yes, go now. But one more thing--I want you to make certain that neither Vegeta nor the dock crew has access to any data involving bio-support adjustments. I’ve ordered the physicians not to label anything. And make certain my instructions to the physicians’ office were carried out to the letter." Frieza’s voice dropped to a low grumble. I don’t trust any of those dimwit clerks in med bay to get every detail correct."
Zarbon looked puzzled.
"Oh I’m increasing their food supply, alright. I just don’t want Vegeta finding out about other supplements in his pet bowl in case he decides to verify the caloric increase."
"Other supplements?"
"I’ve been toying with his pet bowl for years now. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors. When I started Vegeta on growth-inhibiting hormone, I could’ve sworn you and Dodoria were sniffing your own plates for fear I was poisoning you." Frieza leaned back in his chair and inhaled with deep satisfaction--as if his own power were a discernible fragrance in the room.
"You needn’t be so paranoid, you know," continued Frieza, smiling. "There exist whole databanks on your species and Dodoria’s, but the Saiyans--well, unfortunately I blew up a lot of information about their kind with their planet, didn’t I? Monitoring these monkeys in their pods by way of biochemical manipulations, my physicians and I have been able to gather extensive information about them."
"Of course, my lord! And are our scientists beginning to understand how Saiyans manage such incredible power gains after massive injury?"
"After massive injury or extreme deprivation. Yes, the picture is coming together. But go now. Vegeta may already be harassing the departure personnel."
"Yes, Lord Frieza."
After Zarbon left, it was still a long while before Frieza felt the absence of Vegeta. He felt it in the slowing of his heart, in the cooling of the air. Alone in his chair on the bridge, he found himself wondering if Saiyan lifespans were anywhere near as lengthy as those of his own kind. If only Vegeta had stayed a child longer--but the biochemical attempts to keep him a boy had not worked as expected. He grew up.
There had to be some way to lure the adult Vegeta back into the game.
The game had only one ending, of course. Any other end would be tragically unsatisfying. Frieza would kill Vegeta one day. And yet--
Frieza turned his gaze from the dark ceiling to the scene in the viewshield. Light blue and pale orange nebulae swam against an infinitely black expanse.
Sometimes Frieza wondered why the universe went to all the bother of existing.

END

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A/N: This story was a vignette that emerged while I was writing "What A Bastard Is."

No part of it was ever intended as shota; I only wanted to show a studyFrieFrieza and his relationship with the adult Vegeta as I imagined it. Thanks to my beta, LisaB, for her significant feedback.

debbiechan
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