Pure Evil 4: A New Evil | By : sefiru Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 7993 -:- 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. |
Pure Evil 4: A New Evil
By Sefiru
***
Pairings: Kakarott x Vegeta
Warnings: NC-17, yaoi, anal, oral,
BDSM, bondage, violence, language, pure evil.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all belongs to Kakarott. Long
live the King.
Pun_xy: Mr. Satan is just the
beginning. ^_^
Starlight_dragon: I’m glad somebody appreciates my sense of humor.
Fly: thanks for reading. ^^
Xero Sky: True to life? I don’t know quite
what you’re trying to say – unless you mean that we’re seeing Vegeta’s response
to Kakarott when he’s not in sub-space. I know, I can be melodramatic at times
(just call me “Heston”).
In this chapter: Vegeta shows Kakarott the ropes.
***
Chapter 3: The Ropes
***
Dinner is nothing
more than a fond memory, and the dishes are cleared
away. I lie on the couch with my head on Kakarott’s
lap as he runs his fingers through my hair; the meal and this treatment has me almost asleep. Almost.
Because I have a special treat for him tonight. I look up at him through my
lashes: “Kakarott …”
“Yes?” Sweet kami, that voice. Dark, sensuous, hungry.
I harden at once.
“I had something
to show you.”
“Oh? Let’s see it
then.”
I roll off his
lap and walk across the room to the fireplace. As I go, I casually run my hands
under my tank top and pull it over my head. Then the pants, in four motions:
button in front. Button over my tail. Push them off my
hips, then step out and kick them aside. Now wearing only my collar, I open the
toybox on the mantel and retrieve what I stashed there
earlier – a coil of snowy white rope.
I hit a control
with my tail to start the music; it’s slow and meditative, rather than my usual
pounding beats. That should make him curious. I stand in the beam of evening
light streaming through the windows, which makes my skin glow bronze, and cast
a glance at Kakarott. He is leaning forward slightly, his tail tip flicking
from side to side. Excellent. I take the end of the
rope and loop it into a clove hitch, then slide it onto the base of my tail. I
place another about a handspan further on. And another. And another. Now I can
reach my collar with the rope; I loop it through and pull my tail close. I take
a moment to run my hands down my back to my now-exposed cleft. Ah, that’s intense. Then I bind the rest
of my tail and tie it off at the base.
I wrap the rope
around my body, waist to shoulder to neck; this part’s mostly for show. And
what a show it is. I smirk faintly as I pass the rope around my thigh. The legs
are the tricky part: I must wrap the rope in a specific pattern crisscross down
my leg. Then up and over my tail, and the same pattern up the
other leg, in reverse. And I’m having trouble concentrating. I’m binding myself. For
Kakarott. Focus; double-check the wrappings, have I aligned them right?
Good. I slowly start to pull in the slack.
I fall to my
knees as my ankles are pulled to my thighs. I have discovered in practice that in order to tighten evenly and not chafe, the rope must
be pulled in at a trickling slow pace. My hands are shaking slightly; I need
all of my training discipline to complete this task. Imagine it’s a kata. Every movement precise. The
tighter I am bound, the hotter my passion flows.
I run the rope
back up to my neck and around my body to make a symmetrical pattern and tuck it
through the loops on my tail. Now for the last part. I
fold the remaining rope into a series of figure eights, one on top of another.
I tie the end off loosely and start working my arms through the loops behind my
back. It’s a good thing I can slither like a snake. The first coil fits around
my biceps, and the rest spread evenly down my arms to my wrists. Again I pull
the slack in, and then close the final knot. Finished.
I look over at my audience.
Kakarott is
leaning back in his chair, his eyes are wide and he’s almost drooling. He stands up and walks all the way around me,
studying me like a work of art. Casually he sheds his clothes. He bends down
until our noses are almost touching and whispers, “I should take you right here
and now. But that would be too easy.”
A band of black
velvet appears in his hand, which he binds over my eyes. Darkness.
His hands leave me; I sense him prowling just outside my reach. Without warning
his tail grazes over my ribs and I gasp at the touch. A pause; step, step,
step, and then fingers ghost down the length of my arm. Another
pause, and then a flick of fur on the sole of my foot. I yelp and twist
in my bonds. The touches come faster, never more than feather light: fur, skin
and – what the hell was that? It feels like metal.
Something brushes
across my lips; I flick out my tongue to catch it and am surprised to taste a
drop of salty fluid. Wait,
that was his cock! Now
every time his skin touches me I have to wonder what part of his body it is.
The metal is back, a brief flick over my nipple; it’s maddening. I moan and cry
out in the darkness. He adds something new to the torture: soft and slightly
fuzzy. I flex against the ropes, trying to get the stimulation I crave, but
it’s futile. I am at the mercy of his will.
There is a
crunching sound, and he presses a piece of peach to my lips; that must be the
fuzzy object. He’s holding it between his teeth – his lips brush mine as he
passes it to me. A wave of heat fills my body. More! I can hear his purr rumbling around me. Ghostly fingers wrap
around my tail and trace it to the end, nails ticking against the knots. But it
doesn’t squeeze, and I scream in frustration. He continues his random touches,
skin, fur, peach – sometimes passing me a bite – and metal. My shaft aches and
pulses with every touch.
Finally he tips
me onto my back. I spread my thighs wider in anticipation; he clamps his lips
onto mine, and plunges into me with one motion. I scream into his mouth. For
once he gives it to me exactly as I like, hard and fast, ramming into my sweet
spot with every thrust. My eyes roll back under my blindfold. I don’t beg
because there is nothing more that I want; my muscles lock, my veins pulse, my
throat closes on my voice and I explode. Kakarott is right behind me.
My awareness
returns slowly, lazily. My eyes are still covered, but Kakarott is carefully
undoing the ropes; I am lying against his chest, rising and falling with his
breath. As he frees my arms I tuck them around him to stroke his velvet skin.
This may be the last chance we have to spend “quality time” together in a while,
and I want to make the most of it. He loosens the knots along my tail and that
goes around his waist too. At last he takes the band from my eyes. I look up at
him, glowing and satisfied, and then over at the coffee table. Lying on it are
a half-eaten peach and one of our steel shackles. I lay my head on his
shoulder. “I’ll never look at peaches the same way.”
Kakarott’s chuckle echoes through his chest.
***
Vegeta: Hey, Kakarott, give me something to remember you by.
Kakarott: OK.
Next chapter: the three-hanky farewell scene.
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