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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.

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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.

Zee and Moiira: I guess interesting is one word to describe it ^^

animeslave18: oh, we’ll be seeing more of Chichi (it’s not that I hate her, but … okay, I hate her)

kit-kit: thanks for reading ^^

Unlike most of my stories, I have no idea where this one is going (besides into the gutter.) We’ll see how it goes.

In this chapter: lemon juice.

***

Chapter 3:

***

      I pace irritably across my room, my tail lashing behind me. It is the day after Kakarott’s return; the day after he took my virginity. I have barely slept, every nerve in my body singing with remembered pleasure while my mind reeled from the shattering of my reality. I do not know what it means. I do not know what the future holds. My reactions have changed so much already that I can’t predict my own actions. Two days ago, I would not have been pacing like this, waiting for his call.

      What is taking him so long? It’s almost noon. This hunger for him is like nothing I’ve ever experienced; the thought of what he can do to me leaves me blushing and breathless. I held the barriers around that part of myself for so long, refusing even to think about it. The idea of me as an innocent is laughable, but to the realm of pleasure, I am. The only thing I am certain of is that I must touch Kakarott again. My fate is laid out before me; as long as it is Kakarott and his mirror-image universe, I will not fear it.

       A single thread of ki touches me, wordless and barely perceptible. All the fur on my tail stands straight out. Without a moment’s hesitation I throw the window open and take to the air, pointing my flight towards him. I’ve been able to sense him all along, I wasn’t waiting for him to reveal himself, but for his permission. Never in all my life have I allowed such considerations to dictate my actions.

      I fly deep into the forest, until the only ki sources around me are animals – and the glaring beacon of power in front of me. It leads me to a low stone building perched on a hilltop, with a lake on one side and an untended garden on the other. I judge it to have about ten rooms, but then remember the customs of living space on this world and change my guess to five. Wood smoke pours from the chimney; it’s a rustic looking place. I land on the porch. The door stands open, and I step inside, cautiously. He is standing beside an eating table, one hand resting on its surface, his tail poised behind him. “You came.”

      “You called me.” It’s all we need to say. Yesterday was not a fluke, nor a singular event. He gives me a calculating look. I understand what will happen: now that he has me, he will train me to his satisfaction. Mold me to his will. He stares at me for a long minute while my heart pounds against my ribs.

      “Strip.” The single word slams into me like an arrow from the bow. I move to obey, grasping one gauntlet with the other, but my fingers pause in their tracks. The glove becomes a lead weight, bonded to my skin with glue. As much as my mental armor, the material armor is part of my existence. It is one thing to be put in a vulnerable position, as yesterday, and another thing entirely to put myself there. It goes against everything I know. But Kakarott is waiting for me, glacially patient, and I know he will not move from that spot, even if it takes a century, until I stand naked before him. I pull the gauntlet and it comes off, a hair’s breadth at a time, until finally it drops to the floor. The second gauntlet is easier, slightly. I reach for the latches of my breastplate and the metal seems to sear my bare fingertips.

     I cast the armor aside and close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe deeply. A minute passes and I’m still alive; I shift my weight, lift a foot to pull the boot off. This time I do it quickly. Then the other. Now nothing remains but blue spandex, and my body is remembering the pleasure that Kakarott showed it. I tear the final layer from me and stand panting, open to his gaze.

     “Good,” He says. “Come with me.” He turns and walks further into the house. I follow without comment. Once again I wonder what would have become of me if Frieza had ever discovered my … trait; nothing good, of that I am certain. I shiver.

     His hands grasp the hem of his top and peel it over his head. “You chose me too, you know.” Distracted by the sudden change of topic and by his superbly muscled back, all I do is blink. “Think about it, Vegeta. The first time we met I beat the crap out of you but you didn’t bend to me; you had to learn what kind of person I am first.” He pushes his gi pants down and steps out of them, leaving him bare. Wetness gathers under my tail. “You’d have killed Frieza if he tried anything. It takes more than just muscle to conquer you, my prince.” His possessive tone turns the title into a pet name; I shiver for an entirely different reason. He knows.

      Kakarott flops down on a sofa facing the fireplace, and waves for me to kneel at his feet. This much, I have anticipated. But now that he’s put me in my place, what will he have of me?

     He pulls my head down to lie on his knee and starts combing his fingers through my hair. The rush of warmth from the touch startles me, and I make a tiny noise. He sighs. “You’re so new to this. So young. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that you’re actually older than I am.” His fingers find the back of my ear, and my body presses against him without conscious direction. “I’ll teach you, Vegeta. How to give pleasure as well as receive it. Today, I want you to touch me. Explore my skin, using only your mouth.” He takes his hand from my hair and holds it just in front of my lips. Explore his skin? I stare at it for a moment, then reach forward with my tongue.

     He tastes of salt and musk, with a hint of my own scent from touching my hair. I lick his first two fingers and then draw them into my mouth. At this point, I discover how sensitive my lips are; there seems to be a nerve linking them directly to my groin. I purr around his fingers, then suck on each of them in turn before moving to the joint of his thumb; each one has its own shape and texture. I lick a circle on the palm of his hand, and he purrs softly. That sound … I must hear more of that sound. I make my way up the smooth inside of his forearm, treating it like one of the frozen desserts that are so popular on this planet – with this, at least, I can claim a bit of skill. Kakarott rewards me with more of that enthralling purr.

     As I nip at the folds of his elbow, he shifts to lie on his chest, presenting me with his back. Understood; I trace along the edges of his shoulder blades and down the crease along his spine, lapping at the rough bands of scars. Every sensitive spot brings another rumble, and soon I am groaning along with him. My lips are swollen and tingling, my rear is dripping with fluid and my front is hard and aching. As I pass over his buttocks he flexes them rhythmically, in imitation of thrusting; I cry out, muffled by his flesh. As I descend along his thighs, his scent begins to overwhelm my reason. I want his taste, I want his sound, I want the texture of his skin. By the time I reach his feet they seem like the greatest delicacy I have ever tasted. As I lavish attention on his toes, he rolls over again. I make my way back up the front of his legs, finding new hot spots on his ankles, calves, knees, inner thighs … and then, in front of me, is his straining, gleaming shaft.

     I look up at him, feeling that this is somehow different from all the rest. He smiles and nods for me to continue. I narrow my eyes, considering, and then run my tongue up it. Fire explodes through my body. All semblance of self-control vanishes; I lap, I slurp, every contact sending waves of pleasure down my body. I part my lips and slide them over his tip, and the sensation makes me scream. It comes out as a muffled groan; Kakarott growls with me and clasps his hands around the back of my neck. I imagine him thrusting, taking my mouth, and my tail folds flat against my back in arousal. I need more. More of his tip against my tongue, more of his shaft sliding on my lips. I sink down deeper; he hits the back of my throat and it’s still not enough. I pull back to work him with my tongue, then sink down again. I do this several times, getting more frenzied with each repetition, Kakarott’s purrs ringing in my ears.

     Finally, his tip shoves against my throat and I swallow on instinct; the feeling of his shaft sliding into me sends me over the edge. I come, hard, locking my muscles around him. He roars, pulls back, and then the salt taste of his seed floods my mouth. I moan again. He slides out of me, raises me up to lie against him, then wraps his arms around me. “That was well done,” Kakarott says.

      It strikes me: I gave him pleasure. I, the destroyer of worlds, brought pleasure to another with my touch. A true purr rolls from my chest, the first of my life, and I nestle deeper into Kakarott’s embrace. He strokes my hair again. “I have something else to show you,” he says, and takes something from the end table above his head. It’s a book, thick and with plain leather covers. “Read it while we rest.” I flip open the cover; on the first page, in neat Saiyan script, is written Kakarott’s Journal.

***

Character development through sex: gotta love it.

Next chapter: We learn about Goku’s encounter with the Saiyan monastery.
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Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much