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Frigid	By : airyusangre Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2143 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/etc. characters and related materials belong to Toriyama Sensei and respective owners; all else is mine, so please do not plagiarise. Not a drop of monetary profit is received from any portion of this fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-F1
- 2-F2
- 3-F3
- 4-F4
- 1
- 2
- 3
II
His eyes—whole body really—felt exceedingly heavy, as if his system had been poisoned with lead or something, though not allowing him to die, but Gohan eventually managed to sit up and open them; familiar stark onyx eyes peering profoundly into his own. He swallowed thickly. His throat was dry and sore from being so. The familiar person moved and knowingly handed him a tall glass of cool spring water from the bedside table; though his overwhelming eyes filled with so many questions never left his form.
After downing the whole glass and sighing very audibly, Gohan’s eyes fell upon his shishou once more; disbelief slowly leaving him as the moment seemed more and more real. It was obvious he was waiting for him to speak first. But for the life of him, Gohan could not get the words out; still in a type of awareness limbo. That and he felt so ashamed… so dirty and weak. And he knew as he looked into Piccolo’s eyes that none of what he had experienced had been a mere nightmare; yet it hadn’t all really happened. It made him uncannily cringe yet simultaneously wish he could jump for joy. Piccolo still existed! Thank Kami! And once that realisation hit home, he could not stop the flow tears no matter how hard he tried.
He sobbed, he keened; his body racked and fluctuated with the sea of agony his soul now felt with raw tenderness.
Piccolo yearned very much to wrap his arms around the poor teen—his mind begging the universe to somehow make it all better—but he held back. As much as he wanted to, he got the distinct feeling that if he did they would both shatter. All he could do was remain there as support and pray that Gohan’s heavily cloaked and saturated mind would somehow work itself out enough for them to really talk.
When the dishevelled teen had finally stopped rocking and shuddering, only staring straight forward at the wall quietly; Piccolo did not know whether to be relieved or more concerned. Finally, unable to take it any longer, Piccolo ended the silence.
“You’ve been unconscious for a week,” he informed matter-of-factly. Both knew he was saying and asking much more than that but remained silent.
After a long anguished sigh, Gohan finally turned to look at him once more; striving to grasp hold of his courage for the earth and its denizens were much more important than his own pain.
“I-it… I didn’t have a chance against it…. I’m sorry Piccolo-san, but I don’t know what it looks like… just that it was so dark and so cold, so very cold… I have never felt such terror, such agony in my life…. I-it didn’t just desecrate my body Piccolo-san; it gang-banged my mind, easily going past all my defences as if they weren’t there! And I don’t even know why! I mean, most villains have some sort of goal or short-sighted reason for their actions—ego, greed, revenge, power, pleasure, passion, lust, hate, obsession, insanity, etc.—but I could feel none of these from it. It continued to take me places I would have never believed existed until having experienced them first-hand…. And then, once time and space were no longer gaugeable to my fractured mind, it dropped me—didn’t throw me harshly nor set me gently, just dropped me—whether done or not, I was no longer of any consequence, if I ever was…. All I can tell you Pic is that it will take whatever it’s going to take whenever it so decides to; for it wants for nothing,” finished Gohan, his eyes having left Piccolo into the beginning of his explanation, him staring blanking at the wall once more.
Had Gohan been looking at him, he would have witnessed the absolutely horrified expression which Piccolo’s face had uncannily morphed into. Piccolo had no idea what to say after that. But he suddenly got very angry—at what had happened to Gohan, but also because it sounded like he had given up.
As if reading his thoughts, Gohan turned and gazed at him with just as much anger. “I fought with all I had, all that I am! I thought you were in danger. That was one of the illusions it produced and drowned me in. I thought I might lose you forever . . . and because of such I reached a new form and level of power far beyond that which we’ve known. But it was to no avail! I was literally tossed around like a ragdoll for who knows how long . . .
“But that wasn’t the part that broke me. Even as I felt that frigid bulbous organ breach deep into my body, tearing my inner passages, my own blood becoming a nasty lubrication; nothing could compare to the agony I felt at having to watch you die, witness your body burn slowly and painfully until your soul faded entirely away from existence . . .
“I begged it to do the same to me; not to end my suffering but because I could not fathom a universe without you!” confessed Gohan with all his heart and soul.
Piccolo’s usual stern and sturdy form slumped then; his usually long powerful legs almost sliding from under him had Gohan not caught him and pulled him into the bed and to his person in a warm embrace, incredulous as he felt water fall from his own eyes without his say, his chest much too tight. It felt as if all his air had been stolen, yet there would be no relief from demise.
“Everything will be alright Piccolo-san, somehow…” Gohan whispered past his ear, his own tears melting into Piccolo’s cape as he rubbed his face across his shoulder, trying to convince himself just as much. For, he knew if such an entity ever began to be a true enemy, much more than the earth would be lost. It wasn’t a being you could train for, get stronger and then defeat. One certainly could not reason with it. He could only hope it was no longer on or near Earth and would never reach them ever again; though he surely wished it upon no other. It still greatly perplexed him that he could find no purpose in it or its ministrations; his scholarly mind immensely perturbed that such an entity could exist. But he let that thought go, Piccolo ever more important. He had survived it and Piccolo still existed; that would have to do for now.
As he thought more, he knew there would never be a perfect time. And rather than gamble with fate, he had to make sure Piccolo knew exactly how he felt for him. Were the end to come sometime soon, he would have the peace of knowing he’d been true to his own heart and the one he loved with all of it. Pulling away enough so they could be eye to eye, his eyes locked onto Piccolo’s, widening. He had never seen Piccolo’s face so uncannily unguarded before. There was fear, shame, lament, ire, uncertainty, passion, the need for revenge, terror, but . . . it was there also, what he had yearned to see, believed was there for so seemingly long—love. Piccolo loved him just as much, and felt immensely ashamed that he hadn’t been there or able to protect him, hadn’t been the first to comfort the other.
Still, Gohan needed to say it, to hear it from at least his own lips. It seemed so long they had both ignored that subject and each other. It was so foolhardy to waste time out of fear. Finally he let it out. “I love you Piccolo-san, with all my being and I always will. I want to share the rest of my life with you—all of myself with you. If you feel the same, do not ever leave me,” he expressed earnestly, pressing his lips firmly to his own if the words weren’t enough; he needed Piccolo to know how he felt for him.
Piccolo bristled at first—so unready for and unaccustomed to such physical intimacy. But he soon found his deft fingers woven in Gohan’s short dark locks, deepening the kiss with an urgent need he had never in his life felt before. It was all too much at once—so much pain, confusion, worry, perturbation, sorrow, joy and love! He needed to let go, yet he couldn’t! It was such a fucked-up way for such a relationship to begin! And as he thought of how it did—that horrid bloody being . . . that did such heinous things to Gohan—it utterly eradicated whatever arousal he might have had from their touch. He wasn’t like Earthlings; he couldn’t just do certain acts to get things off his mind. In fact, the act itself only hammered the same thoughts within his skull more powerfully. More than ever in his existence; he wanted blood—revenge. Gohan deserved so much better, but the universe always threw more his way than he was actually holistically ready to handle.
He pulled away entirely from Gohan then and took a deep breath.
“Piccolo-san?” asked Gohan nervously through flushed cheeks and short pants, feeling that he might shatter if Piccolo rejected him now, though knowing he had every right to.
“Stay here and rest. I will . . . get you something to eat.” He could psychically feel the pain mount in Gohan strongly, so he knew he had to answer something. “It is not . . . unrequited, Gohan. We can talk more once your strength has fully returned,” he said honestly, moving to and stepping out the door of his room to do as he said.
Gohan let out the breath he had been holding; too emotionally weary from all that had recently happened to him, after expounding so much in one sitting to do much more than Piccolo said. Falling backward onto the bed and closing his eyes, still needed slumber took him once more.
Piccolo really needed to . . . kill . . . something. And although he knew it wasn’t right to take it out on an innocent, he was going to kill it anyway so Gohan could have fresh meat; somehow knowing he needed it.
It was an elegant creature, and though he did feel slight unease in taking its life, Piccolo swiftly pounced on and wrapped his powerful arms firmly around its neck. He held it resolutely as it struggled vigorously. He could have of course easily snapped its neck and ended it swift, but something darker in him made the need to feel it die, suffocate and writhe in his arms in futility, uncannily pressing. By the time he snapped out of it, the poor adult elk had suffered much and was near death. Even so, he snapped its neck then, simultaneously begging forgiveness and thanking it for its life and flesh; shaking his head in attempt to rid it of the sudden strangeness he felt, before taking flight with the dead elk in tow.
Once back on Kami’s Temple, Dende and Mister Popo peered at him with incredulous eyes. “Anou, Piccolo-san, Popo-san could have-”
“He needs it fresh and I needed to do it,” answered Piccolo curtly, cutting him off. “I will prepare it for him as well,” he finished firmly, beginning to resolutely take his ‘kill’ to the kitchen.
Dende and Mister Popo looked at each other a moment with wide eyes before shrugging their shoulders; continuing what they were doing before Piccolo had abruptly shown up.
Once in the large industrial-strength kitchen, Piccolo began skinning and cleaning the majestic beast; an odd twitch in his eye every now and then as he did so, striving to hurry through the tedious task, breathing a sigh of relief once it was through.
The cooking part he handled much better—having observed Chikyuujin and Mister Popo enough times to maybe not be the earth’s top chef, but know well what he was doing.
By the time he was entirely through, he had hearty vegetable stew, nice cuts of well-seasoned and grilled venison and a nice multigrain loaf of fresh warm bread ready. Though not his habit, he had tasted everything to be sure. It was pretty good, he thought. And after he filled a large silver platter up, Piccolo made his way back to his room deep in the temple; needing very much to see his . . . What were they now? How did he expect him to address him now? How the hell had things gotten so fucked up? Anyhow, he desperately needed to see Gohan healthy and alright; closing his eyes and pausing a moment to shake it away when the soul-crushing image of the way he had first found Gohan’s desecrated form as it crept to the front of his mind without his say.
Sighing deeply, he continued his journey. He could do this. Somehow he, they would make it.

To Be Continued…
- 1
- 2
- 3
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Frigid