From Vegetasei With Love | By : sefiru Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4193 -:- 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. |
From Vegetasei With
Love
By Sefiru
Pairings: V/G
Warnings: Yaoi M/M, AU, oral,
anal, Bondage.
Disclaimer: I don’t own it, only borrowing.
Summary: Vegeta is a secret agent.
Pixelgoddess: it’s going to be a
roller coaster. ^^
DarkSerapha: the trick is to change the setting and
keep the characters, IMO
Macha: Mrs. B was a last-minute addition – I couldn’t
resist the mental image.
Moiira: more interesting with every chapter, I
promise.
TristaML: You know Vegeta is good at this.
kit-kit: thanks for reading!
Zofo: I think you’ll find a lot of canon references
despite its being AU.
And yes, this story is also a James Bond spoof. ^^
In this chapter: Vegeta visits a gay bar and finds more than
he was looking for.
***
Chapter 2: Kame House
***
As he expected, Kame House was in a run-down industrial part of town.
However, the exterior was in good repair, and his Ferrari shared the gravel
parking lot with a Lexus, a Hummer, and a variety of muscle cars. Perhaps this
place wasn’t so much seedy as little-known … his keen ears caught a techno beat
from within, accompanied by male voices. Well enough. He entered the lobby and
was waved on by the bouncer, a fellow Saiyan in
traditional armor with hair down to his knees. He was probably supposed to
check IDs, but it would be obvious to him that Vegeta was of age.
The interior was
typically dark, with a milling dance floor between him and the bar at the far
end. He noted some even darker corners where his targets could do their
business. The clientele was all male and mostly human, with a scattering of a
few other species. And then he looked up. In steel cages lit by spotlights,
three dancers writhed and twisted with the music. Two were ordinary, if
muscular, humans, but the third –
The third was a Saiyan; tall, powerfully built even by his species’
standard, blue-black spikes of hair gleaming in the light. His sable tail
coiled behind him as his feet stamped in time with the music. And he was
wearing only a royal blue thong that left nothing to the imagination. Vegeta’s
mouth went dry as he watched the dancer pose sideways, knees flexed to show off
steel-firm thighs, and rock his hips with the beat. No wonder this place was so
popular! He walked over to the bar, sparing just enough attention to keep from
tripping, and dropped onto a stool without taking his eyes off the other Saiyan.
The bartender,
when he arrived, was a grave disappointment: a gap-toothed old man with a
scraggly beard. He eyed Vegeta’s rugged appearance and said sarcastically, “Let
me guess, a dry martini.”
“Don’t be
stupid. Guiness.” Vegeta shot back. He turned back to the dancers; the Saiyan, who was in the middle cage and obviously leading,
had his back to the bar now. His feet planted wide apart, he gripped the bars
over his head and lashed his tail sensuously. His shoulders flexed,
highlighting massive corded muscles. His hips swayed from side to side,
accompanied by firm, naked …
A thunk from behind him startled Vegeta out of his trance. He
twisted around; the bartender had arrived with his beer, and he hadn’t even
noticed until the glass hit the bar. “First time here, eh? That’s Goku, he’s our star attraction.”
Vegeta could
believe that. He was an outstanding example of his species himself, but this “Goku” probably even topped him. The two backup dancers were
nothing special – and one of them was wearing a wig – and they only highlighted
his elemental grace. Vegeta realized he was close to drooling; he took a sip of
his drink to conceal it. The bartender leaned closer to him. “He does private
shows too, if you know what I mean.”
Without a word
Vegeta pulled his credit card from his belt and slid it across the counter. The
old man carried it off with a cackle; he returned a short while later with the
card, a key and the receipt. “Mind you, this isn’t a guarantee,” he said. “If
he doesn’t like you he’ll pitch you out on your ass, and we refund your money.
Sign here.” Vegeta didn’t blink at the exorbitant sum. If Vegetasei
were still around, a Saiyan with that kind of talent
would be raking in millions a year, with movie contracts, royal patronage, and
waiting lists months long. Being picky about his customers just showed that he
had pride in his work.
“Your show starts at eleven,” the barkeep
continued. “Green door past the men’s room, upstairs on the
left.”
“Hn.” Vegeta checked his watch; it
was half past nine. He still had an hour and a half to try to do some work. He
mapped out where the darkest corners were, then spent a while noting the faces
of those who came and went from them (though he resented having to take his
eyes off the dancers). It was easy to pick out the ones he was looking for,
since they all had that uncomfortable, hunched-shoulder look. Homophobic macho poseurs.
Serves ‘em all right. They had an over-inflated
sense of their own attractiveness if they thought any gay man would jump them,
when there were so much better things
to look at in the same room.
He got up,
ostensibly to find the men’s room, which he did. There was a ladies’ room
beside it, which surprised him; the bar didn’t seem to have much use for one.
Maybe it was in the building codes? There was a green door at the end of the
hallway, as promised, but he let it be for now.
On the way there
and the way back, he made sure to pass close to those dark corners. Not within
range of human hearing, but well within his own; the
crooks thought they were in no danger, and were free with their words. The
clues he picked up were sparse – “When the boat comes in …” “…520, Station S…”
“…stadium…” Little information, but enough to point him to Satan City,
and a lead from the post office box number. He went back to his barstool hiding
a smirk.
The dancers
ended their performance at ten thirty; Vegeta’s eyes lingered on “Goku’s” form as the cages rose through hatches in the
ceiling. A mediocre live band took their place. Vegeta drank his second beer
and endured the noise for another thirty minutes. At eleven o’clock precisely
he rose from his seat and headed for the back hallway.
***
I am so going to get flamed for this. Fear not, for there is
method in my madness …
On another note: Goku isn’t the
Super Saiyan they mentioned in Chapter 1 – so who is?
Next Chapter: the *ahem* private show.
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