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Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much	By : sefiru Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 12529 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ and I make no money ... only lemonade.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much

By Sefiru

Pairing: G/V

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: D/s, Yaoi

Disclaimer: I don’t own Dragonball Z and I make no money, only lemonade.

Kit-kit: of course there will be trouble. Other wise there wouldn’t be a plot!

animeslave18: Goku has a plan … Chichi doesn’t stand a chance.

Oriya-Chan: Sub pride! Of course, part of the reason Vegeta seems to have changed so fast is that I only write the “interesting” parts. ^^

Pixelgoddess: I think anyone would be freaked out going from one extreme to the other like that. (Haven’t had a chance to check out the pic, RL has been nuts.)

Ashray: Well, the courtroom part should begin in chapter 13, so you’ll get some Chichi taunting then. ^^

In this chapter: Vegeta ponders recent events (takes place between the two parts of the previous chapter).

***

Chapter 11: Thought Process

***

      I yawn and stretch as I drift up out of the best night’s sleep I’ve had in … ever. Kakarott’s scent and ki surround me, and the futon is a warm cocoon. A beam of early morning sun streams through the window, painting the opposite wall gold. I notice that I am … sore; memories of yesterday flood back to me. I snarl. Am I truly brought low so easily? Submissive I may be, but there is no way I will turn into a simpering, groveling fool. And to name him master – what was I thinking?

     I wasn’t, at least not with the head above my belt. Kakarott is breathing evenly, still sleeping; I pad out into the living room and pick up the blue binder from the mantel. Sure enough, that form of address has already been added. I am tempted, briefly, to ignore the rule just to see what he will do; but one thing that life under Frieza ground into me almost as instinct is to avoid punishment at all costs. And while a punishment from Kakarott would not be as painful, it would still likely be worse, because I couldn’t grit my teeth and bear it. Kakarott knows how to break me. Last night he did it almost without lifting a finger.

      And it felt good.

      Kami, it felt good. I stalk into the shower and turn the water as cold as it will go. This is why I locked away all traces of sexuality for so long; on the deepest level, I knew it must come to this in the end. Kakarott wants the same thing as any of the others – to hear me scream, though he uses different methods. And yet … there are things he does. Like the blanket. For no other reason than my comfort. I snort and shake the water out of my hair. He may have conquered me, but he will see that my pride is not so easily stripped away.

       He is scrambling eggs in a humongous skillet when I emerge. “Good morning, Vegeta.”

       “Good morning, master,” I answer dryly. He smirks as though I have proved some point.

       “It’s high time I got back to training,” he says. “We’re going out to the sparring ground today.”

***

      Fists fly, hurling dust and sand and pieces of hair about as we circle each other. Kakarott’s foot slams into my stomach; my knuckles plow into his face, sending him backwards into the hillside. He comes up laughing. He has matched his ki exactly to my own, making this a test of skills – he is getting in three hits for every one of mine, but the only thing it means is that my defense stinks. Which I already knew. There are no masters and servants on the sparring ground, and I ram my fists into his flesh with glee. Try to make me a whimpering catamite, will he?

       I understand what he is doing. He told me, on that first day, that he would be satisfied only with my coming to him of my own free will. He has taken me, thoroughly seduced me, and now he lets go of the leash. A gesture of great mercy, and yet it shows greater dominance than any ruler I have known. Frieza was satisfied with grudging obedience built on fear; Kakarott wants nothing less than my entire mind and heart. And when – if I come crawling to his feet, he will know that he owns me. A faint chill touches the back of my neck as I think of the sheer force of will that that implies.

      In that moment of distraction, he seizes me and pins me against his chest. My skin immediately heats up, my tail fur stands on end. “Good match, eh?” he rumbles in my ear, then briefly sucks on it. I hiss through my teeth. Then he lets me go, and I step down to the rocky ground; turning, I see that a huge purple splotch is forming around one of his eyes. He doesn’t seem angry about it – in fact, he looks rather pleased. “I like your fighting spirit, Vegeta. Besides, who else am I going to train with?”

       “Hn. And where’s your boy? He’s more than old enough to be training, too.”

       “I think Chichi’s keeping him away from me.” He scratches his neck. “That reminds me, I’m meeting with the lawyers tomorrow to get ready for the hearing next week. You can come to the hearing if you like, though we’ll probably both get our reputations dragged through the mud.”

       Sounds like fun. Not. “They might as well say it to my face, then.”

       Kakarott nods. “Good. Now come on, there’s plenty of work to be done.”

      Wait, what the hell did I just agree to? I can’t stand being turned into a public spectacle, but neither does it feel right to let Kakarott face this on his own. There is no doubt that I want what he offers; the only real question is whether that means I’ve lost my mind. Over the next few hours I help him spread bird nets over several blueberry patches and set the roof trusses on the cabin he is building for his son. He treats me as his partner, his equal, as if his domination is a mere game for his amusement. Or else, as if he is so confident of his authority that he need not constantly grind me under his heel.

      I study him across the row of lettuces where we are crouched, pulling weeds; as his hands work, he keeps up a running commentary on the minutiae of vegetable gardening. The sound of his voice stirs an ember deep in my gut. My body hungers for him; in the few short days since his return, he has accustomed me to pleasure, and not for any nefarious purpose of his own. It pleases him to sense me contented and full of life. Sometimes he looks at me as if I am a work of art, and he is the artist shaping me.

     While I haul the pile of weeds to the compost, he puts our dinner on to roast – today it is a haunch of some dinosaur. Always, he feeds me from his own plate; houses me in his own chamber. He could have had me eating gruel and sleeping under the porch; by any measure, he has treated me well. And all that remains is to ask if service, itself, is an indignity. And no; I have had my taste of freedom these last three years, and it did not suit me.

       I take a moment to strip off my clothes and then walk across the grass to where he is lounging on a sun-warmed rock by the lakeside. His ki shines out all around him, and I shudder as I recall the sheer force of his Super Saiyan transformation. Yet it is not the Super Saiyan who has conquered me; that is merely a mantle, an extension of him. Kakarott. He is worthy to rule over me.

      I kneel at his side; he lays a hand on my shoulder, but does nothing more – of course. There is one other thing that he wants. I lean my forehead against the boulder, face dark with embarrassment and arousal in equal measure. “Kakarott … master, I … I beg of you, take me as your servant … let me be your plaything … please, Kakarott …” He grabs my shoulders and pulls me up onto his lap.

      “Not servant. Harem-mate. Family.” He lays a hand on the back of my head and brings our lips together, blowing air from his lungs into mine. Even his breath he shares with me. I purr into his mouth, and my tail arches straight up behind me; this is what mastery should be. I feel his hard shaft under me and shift a bit, rubbing against it.

       “Ride me,” he commands.

       “Yes, master.” I give him a feral grin. I rise up, and use the tip of my tail to guide him in. Sliding down, I purr again as he strokes my inner walls. I press my hands on his chest and start to ride, slowly at first. But I cannot contain my lust, especially after spending the whole day thinking about him. And about his power. I increase my pace, hammering him into me with every stroke. Then suddenly Kakarott flips me over, slams my back against the rock and plows me. Hard and fast, making me grunt with each deep thrust, taking me to the limits of my endurance. Kakarott knows that I am strong – and he turns even that to his advantage. Heat peaks; I roar as my climax overtakes me. Kakarott’s bellow a moment later startles waterfowl into flight. He rolls us over again and cradles me on his chest.

       “I’m glad that you chose me, Vegeta.”

       “I can tell.” I draw a line on his skin with my finger. “Kakarott, about last night … can we do that again some time?”

        He chuckles. “Oh, I think that could be arranged …”

***

Vegeta’s got it bad. ^^

Next chapter: Goku takes Vegeta on a little trip … to another planet. (I may post the sequel chapter to “Vegeta the Schoolgirl” next, though. Watch this space).
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much