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Urban Concubine	By : Orchideater Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2646 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball/Z/GT and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Warnings: NC-17. Gh x Y, V x Y, Gk x Y, domination, strange kink, OOC Yamcha (but since
we don’t see that much of him after Cell, who can prove it’s OOC?) ;p

Urban Concubine

by Orchideater

Act III

--

I soar over darkened fields, streams, and farms, over miles of dense forest, until I spot one tiny
light of habitation hidden among the endless expanse of trees.

Descending sharply, I touch down before the small portable capsule house that’s been set up
here, warm yellow light streaming from inside and a thin trail of smoke from the chimney. Faint
noise lures me to the back of the house, and Goku is there, practicing an elaborate kata in his
usual gi.

I lean against the house and watch him. There is nothing more beautiful on this earth than the
sight of Goku in his element. He is a master, the consummate warrior, and to be able to watch
him when he’s serious is a true treasure.

Absolute control. No wasted movements. Grace and fluidity that would put a dancer to shame,
and behind it an unfathomable strength.

I can’t say for sure, but with his continued training and Gohan’s slacking off, I am almost sure he
has reclaimed his place as the strongest saiyan.

He finishes his exercise with a pose of rest and exhales deeply to ground himself. Only then does
he look my way with a smile.

“Hi, Yamcha!” he calls cheerily, jogging over to me with a broad grin of welcome on his face. I
wave back.

“Nice moves, Goku. That a new one?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working on it for the past two weeks.”

He leads me inside, and I toss my jacket onto a nearby chair. The place is furnished sparsely,
nothing fancy. It doesn’t need to be. This capsule house is for our purposes only, something he
bought on his own.

Goku wipes his sweaty face off with a rag, then picks up a small bundle that fits in the palm of
his hand. He holds it out to show me a mystery object hidden in a kerchief. “I’ve got something
great for you today,” he says, knowing I must be dying to know what’s in there.

I hold my hand out, but he pulls it back childishly.

“Nope. You have to wait for it. It’s good, you’ll see.” He goes to hide his prize in the kitchen,
and yes, now I am dying to know what’s in there. I’m going to take a guess and say rare old
coins that he found.

Since I am essentially the “other wife,” I expect my three saiyans to cough up a husbandly
offering every month. For Vegeta and Gohan I expect a hell of a lot more, since they both have
stinking rich wives, but since Goku’s income is practically zero, I accommodate him differently.

Goku finds it quite fun to try and find valuable items for me. He makes my head spin as each
successive gift gets weirder and weirder, and I have to find ways to sell the stuff.

He’s brought me things like pounds of mushrooms or rare fish that are worth good money in the
city, animal skulls, medicinal herbs, and more often than not, crystal formations or glittering
geodes that collectors would die for. I’ve kept some of these for myself.

This treasure-hunting strategy is also what has supported the Son family all these years. Goku’s
methods might be strange, but they are all his, and they work for him.

He comes strolling back, grinning broadly but silently at me, hand in his hair. It’s amusing– just
like his son, he is sheepish at the start. The difference, however, is that for Goku that moment of
shyness is only the briefest flicker.

He moves in to kiss me, hand pressed to the back of my head to keep me close, and when he
pulls back, his eyes flit over me, his face serious now. “You seem stronger,” he says finally.
“Have you made your training regimen tougher or something?”

“Er...” I have to be careful here. From Goku, that’s no idle compliment. “Yeah. I’ve been
doing my best. I’ll never be a match for you saiyans, though,” I chuckle.

“Hmm.” Goku narrows his eyes in scrutiny. “I think you have gotten stronger. I can feel it. I
think we should find just how much,” he says, walking past me a few steps, then stopping. “I’ll
be going supersaiyan tonight,” he says, not bothering to look at me. This is a statement, not a
request, and I swallow nervously.

He pulls his shirts smoothly up and over his head, revealing that vast expanse of sculpted back.
God, his body is incredible. He’s been working out all evening as he waited for me, and every
muscle is pumped to capacity.

“Well,” he says, voice full of cheer and smiles. “You can go ahead and get undressed and get on
the bed,” he tells me, not turning around.

I remain where I am and do nothing.

Muscularity of exquisite size and definition is revealed to me in excess as he removes the rest of
his clothes, his pure, fair skin seeming luminous in the soft lamplight.

He takes a few moments to casually stretch every limb. One arm high over the head, the other
behind his head to hold the opposite shoulder, then vice versa, then stretched in the same manner
across one side of his chest, then the other. Hands clasped and stretched out straight before him,
then behind him. One leg bent, his weight placed on it and the other stretched out slightly
behind, then the other leg. Massive shoulders roll to loosen the joints.

In another setting this could be thought of as simply post-workout stretching, but here, I know, it
is a performance. Presenting every inch for inspection and approval, as a male animal displays
for his potential mate.

Finally he turns to face me, smiling that beatific smile, and approaches with even, confident steps
to stand before me. I can only stare, mesmerized, looking down into his eyes. I am actually a
few inches taller than him, but I have never felt as such. His presence is immense. Other fighters
have surpassed him from time to time, but they could never steal away his position as the greatest
warrior.

Only he wears power so well.

He cocks his head to the side like an adorable dog and gives me a small laugh. And, with the
face of an angel, he grabs me by the neck and hurls me into the bed hard enough for the springs
to touch the ground under my weight, the headboard to slam against the wall. All the air escapes
from my lungs on impact, and I lay there making feeble choking noises before finally drawing in
a gasping breath.

He approaches, climbing onto the bed slowly. He snaps his fingers, and with a flash of ki my
clothes evaporate from my body.

“That’s better,” he says, smiling sweetly, voice like dripping honey.

Unlike my previous two lovers, sex with Goku is simple. He does not require clandestine,
forbidden rendezvous like Gohan, or bizarre kink like Vegeta. There is only one thing he
demands.

Complete and total dominance.

Goku was the most difficult to seduce. With Gohan, who was struggling to adjust to a new
marriage, new job, new baby, it was easy to tempt him and then hook him with the promises of
violent and forbidden release. Goku was always a strange one, though. Sex just didn’t seem to
be high on his list of important things in life, and at first he was leery of my offers and
uninterested until, out of the many sexual options I proposed to him, he found one that piqued his
interest.

I was surprised that amiable, carefree Goku would find domination of another appealing, but the
more I thought about it, the more time I spent with him, I realized I shouldn’t have been
surprised. Goku might be easy-going, even childlike in everyday life, but in the bedroom his
attitudes change drastically.

He has spent too much time in the wild to be unaffected by its doctrines. The rule of the animal
kingdom dictates that the strongest survives, the strongest dominates in the act of mating, beating
out all other rivals. This natural law, doubled by latent saiyan instincts, has shaped him. Goku
does not boast or brag about his power, but he is very proud of what he has achieved.

With my clothes gone, he notices the hickey Vegeta graced me with, and his eyes narrow and that
smile grows tight. He’s pissed.

“Vegeta’s doing, right?” he asks, running a thumb across the bruise. I can only nod. That little
bastard knows just how to get under his skin, but it is all part of the push and pull of their rivalry.

He ducks in and sinks his teeth into my neck on top of the bruise, digging in hard, and I can only
gasp and whimper as he grinds them in. When he pulls back, I am left with a red tooth-marked
welt that has overtaken the previous mark.

He leans back on his knees as he wipes his mouth, muscular chest swelling with breath, and that
smile is like deadly poison now. His arousal and excitement is building quickly, and I revel in
that magnificent sight of his engorging manhood. He has the kind of anatomy that looks fairly
average when soft, but when aroused, say your prayers. I will never get tired of seeing it, of
being one of the privileged few to witness the sight.

All three of my saiyans are prime examples of masculine excellence and hung like bull moose,
but Goku is simply a specimen ne plus ultra. Seeing him in his full dominating glory is enough
to take my breath away.

I see Goku last for a reason. I have not bathed properly or changed any of my clothes besides my
shirt since my previous encounters. Their smells are still all over me, cum and sweat and saliva.
Their scents give him a thrill, because he loves to “have the last word,” to re-claim me from the
others.

Still kneeling, he leans back on his hands, the biceps and triceps in his arms bulging, chin tucked
down into thick, curved pectorals as he looks down his nose at me. His thighs are spread, his
massive cock jutting outward in obvious display.

“Get started,” he demands.

I take him gingerly in hand, descending to lick the mushroom head, starting off with slow and
leisurely strokes, savoring the taste of hot saiyan flesh, feeling his pulse beat in the veins under
my tongue, gently stroking the remainder of the long shaft with my hand. He has tilted his head
back, eyes closed, a deep rumble emanating from within his chest as he enjoys my attentions. I
take more and more of him into my mouth, being careful of my teeth, and push him farther in, to
finally slide smoothly down my throat to the root. Only years of practice allow me to take his
size so easily.

His deep purr doubles in volume, and I feel his fingers weave through my hair, pulling and
clenching. I suck and hum, saliva dripping from my lips, working his flesh with all of my skill,
caressing his swollen sac with my other hand.

Goku has tremendous restraint, as expected of a warrior who has mastered the physical body, but
he cannot help but react to such attentions, head thrown back, lolling slightly, lips parted.

Fingers grip my hair more tightly, and he begins to thrust into my mouth, gently at first, then
gaining in strength and passion. I increase my suction, tearing a savage growl from his throat and
a thrust that almost knocks me backward. I can feel his precum flow down my throat.

In the next moment he pushes me away and looms over me, kissing me roughly, thoroughly, his
hot body covering mine, his cock pressed against my abdomen, pulsing against my own need. I
take the opportunity to run fevered hands over his glorious masculine curves, the tight waist and
perfectly formed arm and chest muscles, running my feet down his legs. The urge to bite his arm
is irresistible, and I do give in to the urge and bite down and suckle on his large, round left
deltoid.

He growls in turn, and gives me a matching bite on my left shoulder, harsher and deeper,
overpowering me, obliterating any trace evidence of a challenge to his dominance here. He pins
my arms out to the sides as he works over my neck, my ears, my chest, making me writhe and
whimper and sigh.

When he is satisfied he pulls back and away, and moves to stand on the bed before me, glaring
down at me, the intensity of his gaze stabbing through me and pinning me in place.

He bends his arms in the flexed position before him, clenches his fists, and begins to gather his
power, face in a scowl of concentration. Like a force of nature, it flows from him, whipping his
hair and fluttering the sheets.

More. More. Still more power electrifies the air, until, with a roar, he soars through the barrier
into supersaiyan, power jumping impossibly, his handsome dark features bleaching to blond. My
heart skips a beat at the moment of transformation, as it always does when he makes a display of
it like this. The first level of supersaiyan has been overshadowed by other levels and fusions so
Goku thinks nothing of it, but to someone like me it is still drop-to-my-knees-and-gape awe-inspiring. A golden god with the power of the universe radiating from him, and I am paralyzed
in his presence.

He bathes me in golden light, looking even bigger and more pumped than before, sea green eyes
piercing through me. He circles a finger in the air, an indication for me to turn over. I do as
ordered, moving to my hands and knees.

I shudder as I feel that overwhelming golden power move closer, raising all the tiny hairs on my
skin. The touch of his hands on my back hits me like a thunderclap of sensation, and I tremble
uncontrollably as he smooths them down my back and sides, kneading the curves of my rear and
tickling in light trails up my thighs. I bite my lip as he begins to enter me. Sweat beads on my
face and blood wells on my lip as I take him all, inch by inch by inch, until I feel I am at my
limits. I never feel so overstimulated and numb-headed as when he takes me at super saiyan.

He stills once he is fully sheathed and long moments pass, his thumbs massaging over my ass
where he holds me as he gives me time to adjust, and also takes time for himself to appreciate the
feeling.

There is only the sound of my panting. Sweat dampens the pillow below me and my fingers
tremble with the effort to keep myself up. They won’t last much longer.

When he is ready, without warning, he gives a short, staccato thrust upward, and I shriek at the
sudden motion, my arms giving out and my chest dropping to the bed. I take in a gulping breath
turned to long, shuddering moan as he pulls out slowly and sinks back in just as deliberately. He
covers my body when he is sheathed, running his hands up my shaking arms in comfort,
snuffling my hair and suckling behind my ear.

With a single, breathy laugh in my ear, he draws back and begins again, this time taking a slow
but steady pace. Moans stream in a steady flow from my mouth as he increases his force and
tempo to a vigorous pace.

My brain has turned to mush. I can’t think, can only feel his huge cock inside me, feel his power
washing around me like a deep ocean of ki. I am drowning and gasping for breath in that ocean.
Taking him as supersaiyan was extremely difficult for me at first, but with time and increased
training on my part it has become easier, and I feel I am handling today very well.

However, Goku takes that moment to say from behind me, “You’re stronger now, Yamcha. You
can handle more than this.”

Damn, was he reading my mind? I snap out of my fuzzy place quickly. “C-Careful!” I stammer,
twisting to try and get a good look at his face. There is only that deadly sexy look of total
confidence and unconcern. “Don’t go to level two! I-I can’t–”

“Just relax, Yamcha,” he says as he silences me with a particularly hard thrust. “Have I ever hurt
you before?”

No, but there’s always a first time! He worries me when he gets like this because, one, he can be
absent-minded, and two, he has a bad habit of thinking people can handle more than they really
can. I bite the pillow under me and pray he doesn’t overdo it.

He begins increasing his power steadily, and the storm of ki around me builds to a raging
hurricane, battering my senses. Higher, higher, until I feel I am in the center of a nuclear reactor.

Every cell is vibrating. I can’t bear it. I am crying out unintelligibly, thrashing, gasping,
saturated beyond my limits with his radiant wild ki. That ki burns me inside and out, yet is
unbearably addictive, mind-blowingly seductive. So much raw, unbridled power– how can he
handle it so easily?

More, more, more power, more force, more virility, his engorged cock pounding relentlessly
against all my sensitive spots, and I can hold out no longer.

One more spike of his ki and I come screaming into the sheets, my body convulsing
uncontrollably. Swooning, I twist to look at him, and I dully feel him still building, still
pounding, still laboring for his release, his muscles bulging and straining and shining with sweat,
until, with one last, tremendous, golden flare of intense ki he throws back his head, roaring, as he
empties his prodigious load inside me, shot after shot, and I lose count as I pass out completely.

When I come to, I feel myself laying in muzzy darkness. My body is so hyperstimulated I can
barely move. I become aware of someone touching me, and with effort I open my eyes, then turn
my head.

Goku is behind me, pressed up against my back, his arms locked around my chest and his face
nuzzling my shoulder. It seems I’ve only been out a few minutes, and I’m glad I woke up in
time. Here in the aftermath is the only time I can see it: this fleeting moment of Goku’s
vulnerability, when he holds me tightly in gratitude, the brows furrowed on his beautiful face,
clutching me as though I am the only one left in his world.

The need for total dominance comes instinctively, yes, but also out of a desire to feel total control
over one aspect of a world he has never felt comfortable in. The understanding of so many
aspects of human society still escapes him, after all this time, and though he loves her, his
relationship with Chichi is strained.

He used to call on me around once a month; now it’s once a week. Despite his happy persona, he
becomes frustrated by this world, by his wife, by a power he can’t use as freely as he’d like, by a
saiyan prince he can never have. All I can do is offer him a makeshift outlet, and I can only hope
that in my own way, I alleviate his feeling of being forever a stranger in a strange land.

He senses that I am conscious, and black velvet eyes open and gaze back into mine. And as
fleeting as the wind, that vulnerable moment is gone, and, per his usual routine, he is left in a
fantastic mood. He grins hugely and sits up.

“That was a great one, don’t you think?” he enthuses.

I feel half paralyzed. I don’t know whether to strangle him or get down and kiss his feet for some
of the best sex ever. “I can’t move,” I complain, sighing pathetically.

“You’ll be fine,” he assures me, and props me up with pillows as though I am an invalid.
“You’re doing well, Yamcha. I went up to about three-fourths of the way to level two this time.
Way more than ever before.”

“No wonder I feel half dead. You’re going to kill me with sex one of these days.” He just laughs
merrily.

“Ten minutes to the late night show. I’ll make us popcorn.” He clicks on the TV on top of the
dresser and zooms off to the kitchen, and in seconds I can hear the microwave humming. I’m
surprised the appliances still work after all the ki that was flying around in here earlier.

He comes back in a pair of pajama bottoms and with two huge bowls of popcorn in his hands as
well as two root beers. They’re both pretty much for him, though I usually have a little. He
plunks the sodas on the night stand and the popcorn on the bed, and then to my astonishment, he
reaches into my mouth and tugs on my right front tooth.

“Is it real, Yamcha? Be careful of the popcorn kernels!”

He seems to think this is hilarious, and once again he is blowing my mind until it finally dawns
on me what he is talking about.

“Yeah, it’s real! No thanks to the little punk bastard who knocked it out. I’m looking at him
right now!”

He just laughs, and takes the liberty to inspect my tooth.

“Ohh? I thought you had a fake one put in.” I swat his hand away from my face.

“Yeah, I did, a long time ago. Porunga was generous and gave me a new one that first time I was
brought back.”

He pulls a small packet from his pants pocket and holds it up. “You can have your present now.
Think of it as an apology for the tooth, too,” he says, winking mischievously. He pulls away the
folds of cloth. Okay, my guess was old coins. No, it’s a– diamond?

“Oh my god!” I am suddenly completely revived. I leap forward and grab it from him, holding it
up into the light. “No way! Is this really...? Where did you get this, Goku?”

He chuckles at my enthusiasm. “It’s pirate treasure.” He is reveling in the attention as well as
my disbelieving gawk at his statement.

“Back when I was a kid, the Red Ribbon Army chased us into this underwater cave complex, and
it was an old pirate base. We found their treasure and one of the dragonballs. The place
collapsed, but lately I’ve been going back and chipping through the mass with ki blasts, and I
found my way to the treasure again. I even taught myself to use a ki shield to trap air so I can
breathe down there.”

“Goku, you’re freaking brilliant. So where’s the rest of the treasure?”

Goku gives me a knowing smile. “Still down there. It’s a good place for it.”

“Your secret stash, eh?” He’s not going to fall for my attempts to wheedle the location out of
him. “Does Chichi happen to know about your sudden windfall?”

Goku frowns a bit. “No, and I’m not going to tell her. If we need money, I can always go to the
treasure and get a stone and sell it and give her the zenni. You know how she is with money. If
she found out about this, it would go straight to her head. I don’t want to live like Hercule in a
big mansion in the city. The way we live is just fine.”

There is frustration and sadness in his voice, and for a moment I regret mentioning her name. I
was right; he and Chichi must be having more problems than usual lately. If she doesn’t watch it,
he might up and fly away one of these days.

“Sorry for bringing it up, man. It must be hard when Chichi gets money-crazy.”

“Mmm.” Goku gives me a wry look. “She’s a lot like you, that way.”

“Oi, oi! All right, so I like money and the finer things in life. That’s no crime is it?” Anybody
would jump for joy at being given a perfect, cut, walnut-sized diamond.

Goku laughs, his good mood back full-force. “Come on! Time for the show. Move back.”

I sigh, sliding back so I’m sitting up against the headboard, and Goku gets comfortable between
my spread legs and rests his head on my crotch. Now, this is about as comfortable as having a
bowling ball plopped down upon my abused and very tender man-parts, but it makes him happy
so I don’t argue.

“Ooh, funny newspaper headlines and animals on today. Lucky!” he cheers at the show’s
preview spot.

Goku chomps popcorn while I stroke his hair with one hand and clutch my new prize to me with
the other, much like a child taking a new toy to bed with him. We watch the show, laugh, and
eat. It’s hard to believe he is the same man who was pounding me savagely only an hour before.

He finally clicks off the TV and curls up against my legs.

“Stay the night, Yamcha,” he says in a small voice.

“I can’t stay all night, but I’ll stay for a while,” I respond softly, still stroking his hair, and with
my hand in his hair and his head in my lap he is brought back to that time so long ago when he
felt he truly belonged.

He is soon asleep. After an hour I delicately extricate myself and dress in an extra set of clothes I
brought by capsule. I pull the sheets up to his neck, and take a last look at his peaceful face
before turning out the lights.

See you next time, my beautiful, innocent beast.

---

The flight home seems endless. I am so exhausted I can barely stay aloft. I am, unfortunately,
only human, and satisfying three saiyans in one day is a daunting task. But the honor is all mine.
I set down before my condo just as the dim light of dawn begins to turn the eastern horizon gray.
Goku’s offer to stay the night was tempting, but I couldn’t make Puar worry more than he already
does.

“Yamcha-samaa!” he wails as I enter the condo, flying into my chest and hugging and burying
his face into me. “I’m so glad you’re all right!”

I chuckle and ruffle the fur on his head. He waited up for me; he can’t help it. “Puar, you worry
over nothing.”

“Do you want me to draw you a bath?”

“Tomorrow. Right now all I want is to sleep.” I fall into bed, Puar curled up on the pillow
beside me. I look at him fondly before drifting off.

I once had the naive dream of marrying a nice girl. I’ve since discovered that life, and
relationships, are not always so simple, and that sometimes the life that works for you is as far
from conventional as can be.

I don’t know how long it can last, but for now, I am quite satisfied with my arrangement. I get all
the sex I could possibly want, plus if I feel the need for a woman I can always bring one home for
some fun. I am fond of and attracted to all my three “husbands.”

My relationship with Puar, however, is my deepest bond, one that is completely pure and chaste.

Somehow they all mesh together into a life of contentment. I could never go back to the idea of
marrying and raising kids– it just doesn’t work for me.

I was always the weakest, most useless one of our group, but now I have found my place. Finally
I am useful. I provide them with what no one else can, satisfy them, have earned their favor.

Since I could not attain power on my own, I have gained it by proxy. I have given myself to the
saiyans, a slave to their addictions, and each of them has thrown their chain around my neck.

But if I am theirs, they are mine. The chain each has cast onto me latches around their own necks
as well. They need me. Need what I provide in order to thrive.

And through that, I muse as I drift off to sleep, I am the most powerful man on earth.

Sweet dreams.

---

A/N: Story COMPLETE. Big thanks to Camui and Velvet for reviewing! And thanks to all who
may read and review this story in the future.
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Urban Concubine