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First lesson
By : Grezildetwist
Category: Missing Data > Missing Data
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Chapter List
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When Trunks was tucked in bed and Bulma was singing in the shower, washing away the grime of a day spent in the workshop, Vegeta flipped open her mobile phone. He’d seen her use it enough times to know the code to unlock it. His own similar phone in other hand, he browsed her contacts until he found Yamcha’s name. It had dawned on him already the previous night, the second he had shut the apartment door behind him, that he didn’t have the man’s phone number on his contact list. He copied the number, saved it, snapped shut his wife’s phone and put it back on the nightstand. Then he exited the bedroom and headed to the gym for a cool-down workout.
He had deliberately drawn out his training that day to ensure he’d come to bed late. Bulma had an early morning, so by the time he’d turn in she would be asleep, or at least almost. He didn’t feel like discussing his less than superior attempt at executing Yamcha’s advice a couple of nights before with her. Nor did he feel like trying again even after receiving some more training. He wasn’t confident enough about his skillset yet – a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t plan on becoming. He wanted to learn more and practice more. The two brief appointments he’d had with Yamcha had revealed that there was a lot he had overlooked, much more than he had initially thought there would be.
Though currently, even more than thirst for knowledge, it was perhaps curiosity concerning the man himself that kept his mind travelling back to the neat sixth-floor apartment. So many questions had stirred after experiencing the contrast between the human’s uncertain demeanour and the insightfulness of his touch. Yamcha had been visibly uncomfortable – Vegeta saw the way his hands trembled and his eyes kept wandering away – but even through his reluctance and distress, his virtuosity had been evident the moment he had touched Vegeta. The prince thought back to the way Yamcha’s lips and fingers intuitively found their way to places he hadn’t even known he enjoyed being touched on, like the underside of his forearm, the hole beneath his earlobe, or the apples of his cheekbones. Would Bulma discover those kinds of things about him too, if he allowed her the time? He recalled how Yamcha’s lips had repeatedly claimed his, growing more demanding yet never failing to allow room for response – never ceasing to invite dialogue.
After getting a literal taste of something different Vegeta thought he understood why Bulma would eventually get tired of their repetitive encounters, fervent as they may be. What he didn’t understand was that if Yamcha was so good at his thing, why wasn’t he more confident about it? Why was he so agonized about getting to show off his talent?
These questions kept replying in Vegeta’s head through his routine, all the way to the shower stall and to bed, where Bulma lay sound asleep.

Next morning, after partaking in a munificent breakfast and overseeing his son get picked up for school, Vegeta dialled Yamcha’s number.
“Hello?” said Yamcha’s voice, in a tone that implied he hadn’t recognized the caller by the number. Figures.
“I’ll be there tonight”, the prince declared without announcing himself. “Some time after eight o’clock.”
“Oh, uh – actually, better make that nine o’clock”, came a response after a moment of silence. “I have practice today and it might go late.”
“Hmph”, Vegeta snorted. “That ball game of yours?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Hm. Fine. Nine o’clock then”, stated Vegeta and ended the call.
At the other end of the line, Yamcha rolled his eyes and shook his head lightly. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the prince wasn’t much of a chatter.

When he returned home that night, sports bag on his shoulder, Yamcha found Vegeta standing outside his door in waiting. It was ten minutes past nine. Yamcha could predict he’d be scolded for his tardiness.
“You’re late”, said Vegeta, and the athlete gave himself a mental reward.
“You’re unreasonable”, he grumbled back as he fished for his keys in the side pouch of his bag.
They entered the apartment, where Yamcha dropped his bag in the hallway corner and stripped himself of his team jacket, revealing the tight-fitting training top he wore underneath. As he proceeded to remove his shoes, Vegeta fell behind, eyeing the human. His muscles were still pumped from the exercise, and strands of his hair, moist with cooled sweat, were emphasizing his trapezoids as they stuck to his skin. To Vegeta, people always looked their best when they had just finished working out, and it was definitely a complimentary look on Yamcha. Though the human seemed to lack the bliss of post-exercise satisfaction that the endorphin rush usually caused in people. Vegeta could guess why.
“I’ll jump in the shower quickly. Just five minutes”, Yamcha said as he finished untying his laces.
“No need”, Vegeta said, his eyes still on the other man’s back.

“Seriously?” Yamcha glanced at him over his shoulder. “I’m all icky and sticky.”
“I don’t mind”, hummed the prince, pushing past Yamcha in the narrow seam of the living room and the hallway, intentionally not giving the other enough space to avoid touching him as he passed. Yamcha looked away.
“Well, suit yourself, I guess”, he mumbled. “You better not start complaining about the smell halfway through.”
Vegeta sat down on the edge of the sofa and Yamcha suddenly felt really nervous again. Damn, and he’d spent so much time trying to get into a professional state of mind about this. Well, one day. He wiped his forehead on his wrist and clapped his hands together.
“So”, he began, forcing a spirited tone into his voice.
“So”, repeated Vegeta, emanating calm amusement. Yamcha inhaled. Now he was grateful that Vegeta had stopped him from taking a shower. Maybe the glow of exhaustion would disguise the ruddiness of his cheeks.
“You’re back soon”, he went on. “I take it you want to practice what we went over last time?”
“Correct”, said Vegeta, cocking his head. “Bulma’s busy for the rest of the week, so we have plenty of time to perfect my technique.”
Though he still felt he’d been treated unfairly, Yamcha found it quite heart-warming that the man was so eager to impress his wife. And to think he had roused that motivation by showing just how good it could be if one put in the needed effort – he couldn’t help but feel a little proud.
“What are you waiting for? Get over here”, demanded Vegeta, patting the seat next to him impatiently. Yamcha felt his heartbeat quicken. For the love of – he really needed to get his emotions in control! He diverted his eyes from the Saiyan to the small blue notebook lying on the armrest of the sofa. Vegeta was obviously planning on returning again after this lesson. He hadn’t exactly agreed to that, but somehow, he didn’t feel like objecting – in fact, he had counted on it. Realizing that, he felt a little silly about having planned ahead as diligently as he had. But he was a professional here, wasn’t he? He was allowed to act like one.
“Look here”, he said as he crossed over and sat down. “You can train with me today, but I should let you know that I’m going to be rather occupied in the following weeks. The world championship games start next month, so my practice schedule is going to get a lot busier. It means that I might not be available whenever you want. So –” Yamcha lifted his index finger as Vegeta was about to protest. “So I’m going to give you a little tip.”
Vegeta raised an eyebrow.
“If you can’t get a hold of me, you can practice the things we do here on you hand”, said Yamcha. He made a loose fist of his right hand and brought it near his mouth. “Here, on the back of your palm. It’s not going to kiss you back, of course, but it’ll keep stuff fresh in your memory.”
The prince frowned at him and crossed his arms, clearly unconvinced. Yamcha knew by now that Vegeta preferred concrete action to lectures, so he decided to show the man exactly what he meant. He closed his eyes and began kissing the back of his hand.
Vegeta stared at the human. Again, the puny, uneasy man transformed into something else the second he set out to demonstrate his expertise. Yamcha turned his head and moved his hand gracefully as he pressed viscous, moist kisses on his skin, his face serene with unwavering concentration. Vegeta couldn’t fathom where the human hid this sensuality and charisma the rest of the time, and why. Was he aware of it? Was he conscious of the elegance that shone through when he put his heart into what he was doing?

“Like that”, Yamcha concluded as he opened his eyes – and was startled to find Vegeta glare at him with extreme severity, fist raised. When the human jerked, the prince realized that he had unconsciously raised his hand as he had pictured replacing Yamcha’s hand with his own. He leered at his clenched fist and put it down, unhurried, then regarded Yamcha again and grunted:
“I want to practice with you.”
Yamcha leaned back, but distance didn’t make the penetrating eye contact any less pressing. Vegeta’s gaze was like a searchlight cast straight into the soul. Yamcha had the unshakeable feeling that whenever the prince looked him in the eyes, he was trying to figure him out somehow, to catch him at a lie, to uncover something hidden. And though he didn’t know exactly what the Saiyan was looking for in his eyes, he had no desire to allow him to find it. He glanced sideways and swallowed.
“Okay, whatever”, he mumbled. “Anyway, there’s something for you to do if I’m busy. If you want. So, should we get to the topic of the day?”
To Vegeta’s surprise, the human reached for the little notebook on the armrest. The prince tilted his head in puzzlement as Yamcha turned a couple of pages.
“Aren’t we going to repeat what you showed me last time?” he asked.
“Sorry, but no”, Yamcha said. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it systematically. Besides, my lip hasn’t yet fully recovered from last time’s… accident. We’ll get back to that later. All right.” Yamcha looked up from his notebook and turned to Vegeta. “Has Bulma kept her hair short?”
“What?”
“Her hair, is it still short? Shorter than mine?”
“Y… yes, it’s short”, muttered the prince, too flustered to do anything else than reply truthfully.
Yamcha nodded and reached to his pocket, came up with a hair tie and tied his fluffy black hair into a low ponytail. Vegeta kept staring at him through the process, his expression undecipherable. He was debating with himself whether to go along with what Yamcha had in mind or insist on what he had come for. He’d had his mind set on receiving another one of the scarred man’s iridescent kisses – to study, of course. But he had to admit he liked seeing the human adopt a more confident status. And like every time he evoked a genuine reaction from him, he felt a sense of accomplishment when he saw Yamcha slightly blush.
“I figured I should mimic her hairstyle”, the athlete murmured once finished. Vegeta shrugged.
“I don’t see it making much of a difference.”
“Well, this time it might”, said Yamcha, returning to his notes. “Since tonight’s lesson is going to be about ears.”
“Ears?” asked the prince. “What have they got to do with kissing?”
“Oh boy, a whole lot”, Yamcha chuckled, allowing himself to grin. Bulma was going to be very happy.
***
Three weeks later, on a crispy Wednesday morning, when returning from his run, Yamcha opened the door to find the ringtone of his phone chiming in the empty apartment. He kicked his running shoes off his feet and went to the kitchen, where the phone’s vibrating function was making the entire dining table quake and clatter. He wondered if Vegeta was calling to pester him about when he’d be free. He’d been busy with practice for the past days and had missed a call from him. He picked up the phone and was surprised to see who the caller was.
“Bulma, hi”, he answered after taking a second to catch his breath.
“Finally! I was beginning to worry.”
Upon hearing her voice, Yamcha realized just how long it had been since he had last spoken with her. He couldn’t even tell where it had been that they’d last met. It would have been either at the annual summer barbecue at Capsule Corp, or at Kuririn’s housewarming party… Oh, it couldn’t have been in the summer. He had missed the barbecue that year because he’d had a game – it had been the day of the regional championship finals. Which none of his friends had come to see because they had all been at Capsule Corp. So it must have been at Kuririn’s that he’d last seen Bulma, making it… six months prior.
“Sorry, I… I was out”, he explained absent-mindedly, still thinking of the events of the summer.
“Don’t worry about it”, she said, her voice trailing off. She sounded uneasy, not her usual chirpy self. “I… I have something I need to ask you. It’s kind of weird… How should I put this… Has Vegeta been in touch with you recently, by any chance?”
The question caught Yamcha completely by surprise. He’d assumed Vegeta had kept it from Bulma that he’d been to Yamcha’s place to ask for love advice, but he didn’t know whether it was actually a secret. Was he allowed to disclose it? Vegeta hadn’t said anything about telling or not telling her. Looking back now, it was peculiar that the prince hadn’t been more specific. He was usually very strict about his pride, and learning to suck face with another guy – heck, learning anything from someone like Yamcha – didn’t seem like the kind of thing he would boast about, least of all to his wife.
“I know it’s crazy”, Bulma hurried to explain when Yamcha didn’t reply, “but it’s just that, lately he’s really been stepping up his game in the… in the petting department, you know? Well, you probably don’t want to know – but anyway, some time ago I chewed him out on his lack of romancing skills, and since then, he’s really shaped up. And some of the things he’s done have reminded me… of you. Yeah, this might be insane but I figured I’d ask. Has he been in touch?”
Admitting she was right embarrassed Yamcha, but the thought of denying the fact made him feel guilty, like he was doing something forbidden behind her back. He knew from experience that seemingly insignificant lies always led to bigger, increasingly significant lies. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to get himself into an arrangement where Vegeta would have leverage over him. If anyone was going to have their feelings hurt because of the prince’s whims, it wasn’t going to be him.
“Yes”, he finally said, his voice coming out smaller than he’d intended. He cleared his throat. “Yes, as a matter of fact, he has.”
“Oh God”, Bulma moaned and Yamcha could see her grimacing in his mind’s eye. “That’s my fault. I told him he could learn something from you about kissing – I didn’t think he’d take it literally! Oh man, I’m sorry. That must’ve been the most awkward conversation ever. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
“No, that’s okay...”

“He wasn’t a jerk to you about it, was he? If he was, I’m going to kick his ass.”
“It’s fine, really”, Yamcha reassured her, smiling to add emphasis. “Sure it was a bit odd, but… it’s fine. I’m happy it was useful.”
“You bet your pretty little ass it was”, Bulma said, back to her sassy self now that the uncomfortable topic had been resolved. “But hey, now that we’re talking, how are you? It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you. What’s up?”
Yamcha was happy she asked. He told her how it was pretty much the same old, keeping it brief.
“The world championships are just around the corner, aren’t they? I mean, you guys have definitely qualified, right?”
“Yeah”, Yamcha answered. He’d won the regionals for his team easily even though he’d been feeling under the weather for missing the chance to meet up with his friends. He’d won every single game ever since he began, and he’d been elected Most Valuable Player in four consecutive years – every year since he’d returned to the sport after Cell was defeated. He had enjoyed the success at first, but the game didn’t challenge him anymore, if it ever had. He kept playing only for the income, which he hardly spent.

“I knew you would”, she said, sounding proud. “It’s been ages since we’ve been to a game. Do you think you could get us tickets for the finals? I bet Trunks would really enjoy it now that he’s old enough to understand the rules. He’s been really interested in sports, recently. He watches all kinds of games from the sport channels. But it’s not really fair to enrol him in any clubs at his school – I mean, with the training he’s got from Vegeta, he’s just too damn strong. It’s unfair to the other kids. Maybe you could play with him sometime? He’d have a proper opponent in you!”
And I’d have one in him, Yamcha mused. Listening to Bulma ask about him and sound genuinely interested in his life made him feel warm and light inside.
“I haven’t met the little firecracker in a while”, he said, smiling. “He’s what, six years old now? Has he already crossed the threshold to Super Saiyan?”
“Not yet, thank God”, Bulma sighed. “But I’d say it’s only a matter of time, if Gohan’s development is a liable basis for comparison. Vegeta trains him a lot. I guess he’s got nothing better to do, with Goku gone. He’s got no competition. I guess it’s a bit hard to stay motivated, huh? Speaking of which…”
Her tone changed suddenly, reverting back to the shy whisper she had begun with.
“If… if you don’t mind”, she mumbled bashfully, “in case… Vegeta turns up again, asking questions – if it’s all right with you, could you… I mean, I wouldn’t mind if he learned more from you.”
Yamcha’s jaw dropped.
“But only if that’s okay with you!” Bulma exclaimed. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to, and I totally get it if you don’t. He can be a prick.”
Bulma didn’t appear to realize that he had a still ongoing arrangement with the prince. What would happen if he refused her here? Would it mean anything to Vegeta? And if the prince didn’t care about his refusal, like he probably wouldn’t, then Yamcha would truly be hiding things from her, wouldn’t he?
And… did he want Vegeta to stop visiting?
“Sure”, he found himself saying before he’d come to any conclusion with himself.
“Really? You’re really okay with that?”
“Yeah, no problem”, he replied. “I don’t mind… answering his questions. I’m – I’m glad if I can be of help.”
“Help? You have no idea”, she said, lowering her voice. “The difference it’s made is insane. It’s like being in the honeymoon phase all over again! You know when you’ve just met someone and you keep wondering just what kind of things they like, what weird stuff might tickle their kinky bone? And how you’re looking forward to the night to see just what they’re going to do this time…! I’m telling you, it’s so exciting! I can hardly keep my hands off him. Just last night he –”
“Okay, getting weird now”, Yamcha said, grinning like he was supposed to, though it was contrived.
“Ugh, I know, I’m sorry!” Bulma wheezed, trying to suppress her excitement. Yamcha smiled wistfully. She sounded like a peppy teenager, telling her best friend about her crush. For some time after their break-up, that’s what he had been to her, the friend who knew every good and bad thing about her. One whom she could trust with any secret, one for whom she didn’t need to uphold any façade. But as time had passed, they had drifted apart – she had become close to Vegeta, eventually marrying him, and the prince had become her new confidant. She had no longer needed Yamcha… until now, apparently.
“Well anyway, if you did that, I’d be so grateful!” she sighed, her voice full of happiness. “Yamcha, you are the best. I’ll do something real nice for you in exchange. Promise! I need to go now, I’ve got a tech conference to attend. Boring stuff, but innovations aren’t going to produce themselves, right? It was great talking to you! We need to get together. Don’t forget to get us those tickets! It’s, like, already October? Ugh, I hope the best seats aren’t sold out by now. They can spare three front row seats to the MVP, can’t they?”
“Sure”, he said again. She said her goodbyes, all bubbly and perky, and hung up. Yamcha let his hand fall slowly to his side, still clutching the phone. He was certain he ought to have felt somehow exploited, or at least offended. What she had asked wasn’t appropriate, was it? Yet when she had expressed her wish for him to continue coaching Vegeta, he had felt… relieved. Was it only because he had feared that she’d be sour about finding out about their meetings? Of course, Yamcha hadn’t elaborated just how it was that he went about ‘answering Vegeta’s questions’. If she knew that much, would she still have asked him to continue?
Yamcha was pretty sure Bulma was confident enough in her marriage to not get jealous about what they were doing. It was about training for her sake, after all. It’s not like they were having an affair, right? Yamcha considered himself liberal enough – he’d fallen for men in the past, had even made out with some, although he’d never been in a relationship with one. He didn’t know about Vegeta’s preferences, but it appeared he didn’t have a problem sticking his tongue in another man’s mouth. But if there wasn’t real attraction they weren’t doing anything wrong, right? And there wasn’t… right?
Yamcha shook his head. He was overthinking things, wasn’t he? Vegeta’s standing on intimacy was clearly different from his. He wanted to become a better kisser and was using Yamcha as a practice partner, that’s all. It wasn’t personal.
***
As if his thoughts weren’t already preoccupied with Vegeta, when Yamcha was on his way to the ballpark after lunch, his phone rang.
“Tonight, nine o’clock”, Vegeta stated, in his usual unapologetic manner.
“Tonight’s no good, I’m afraid”, Yamcha told him. “I’ll be at practice until late.”
“What, again?” The prince sniffed into the receiver. “You’re never available when I need you.”
“Well, excuse me for having a job”, said Yamcha cheekily, turning up his nose. Though their relationship had become a bit more relaxed, Yamcha still didn’t like how Vegeta took his cooperativeness for granted. “I’m not on stand-by for you. Besides, I told you I was going to get busy. World championships start in a couple of weeks, so –“
“What time will you be home?” Vegeta asked.
“Late”, Yamcha grumbled.
“What time?”
“I could do tomorrow”, Yamcha offered, but he could tell that the prince probably wouldn’t agree to postpone. He was right. The call ended in Yamcha’s defeat, like most of their conversations did. As Yamcha put down his phone, he winced. He had wanted to mention the call he’d received from Bulma, just to make sure they were on the same page, but Vegeta’s pestering had made him forget. Well, if it spoiled his mood later that night, the impatient Saiyan would only have himself to blame.

Quarter past ten o’clock that evening, when Yamcha returned from his baseball practice, Vegeta was waiting for him outside his apartment.

“Oh no, you don’t get to call me out on being late”, he exclaimed before the visitor could speak. “I told you I’d be later than usual today, but you insisted.”
Vegeta pouted in silence as Yamcha opened the door. Whatever smart rebuke he’d come up while waiting was wasted.
“Don’t bother showering”, Vegeta said abruptly in the hallway as Yamcha pulled off his sweater.
“What’s the rush?” the human asked, frowning. Then he smirked and added: “Or do you just like it when I smell like the ballpark?”
Vegeta said nothing, just sulked. Yamcha shrugged and went to the kitchen to fetch himself a cold drink.
“So, I heard last night was a success”, he hollered from the kitchen.
“What do you mean?”
“I got a call from Bulma this morning”, Yamcha said as he opened the bottle of mineral water. He had no idea what Vegeta would think. He was fully prepared to get a lecture for the spilling the beans – and to defend himself. “She asked whether you had seen me for advice… and I told her you had.”
He was expecting an enraged ‘you what’, followed by slew of curses and possibly a constricting hand in the immediate proximity of his throat. But none of that came – instead, there was a few seconds’ silence and then Vegeta’s nonchalant voice.
“So?”
Yamcha peeked from the kitchen into the living room, where Vegeta was standing, completely calm. Their eyes locked. The Saiyan stared at him and shrugged.
“So she knows. And?”
“You – you don’t mind?” asked Yamcha, perplexed.
“Why would I? She’s the one who suggested it.”
Only figuratively, Yamcha thought to himself. He was amazed that Vegeta didn’t even budge at the discovery that Bulma knew exactly where his newfound finesse in courtship originated.
“Well, okay then”, mumbled the human, scratching the back of his head. “That’s enough of that. I just thought I’d let you know that she knows.”
He took a generous drink of his water. During the five meetings they’d had in the past four weeks, the atmosphere between him and the prince had eased up a little. Vegeta still didn’t exchange pleasantries and wouldn’t listen to his opinions regarding anything else than his oral performance. There was always the initial weirdness when he started teaching, but Yamcha had managed to get himself in a skill-training mode, which made things a little less awkward. Sure, he still experienced a certain hue of thrill whenever they got at each other’s mouths, but he could subdue it and keep his composure. Or he usually could. Vegeta was, as could be expected, a vigorous learner. But even when his emotions would start getting away with themselves, knowing that the prince was picturing Bulma in his stead gave Yamcha a sense of safety.
He wouldn’t admit it if asked, but nowadays he was looking forward to these meetings, mostly because it was refreshing to have something bring change to his dull day-to-day life, but partly because getting kissed and touched and petted just felt good. And Vegeta was getting very good at doing it. The previous week, Yamcha had finally began teaching him things to do with his tongue, and even with all his willpower, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from jolting when Vegeta’s tongue had first entered his mouth.
“So anyway, why couldn’t this wait?” he asked after he had finished his drink and set the empty bottle on the kitchen counter. “Did something happen last night you wanted to ask about?”
For some reason, Vegeta didn’t reply right away. He took the time to turn his face away before answering – had Yamcha paid a little closer attention, he might have recognized evasion in his tone of voice.
“Nothing in particular”, the prince muttered. “It just happens that Bulma is away on some work-related trip overnight. Good training time.”
“Oh”, said Yamcha, finding the Saiyan’s reasoning anti-climactic yet very typical. “Then I guess we… Wait. If she’s away and you’re here, who’s watching Trunks? You – you didn’t leave him home alone, did you?”
Vegeta snorted loudly as he turned to face Yamcha again.
“Of course not”, the prince snapped. “He’s having a sleep-over at the Son’s.”
Relieved that the child was properly taken care of, Yamcha dropped the topic. He tied his hair back as they kneeled on the floor, on top of the soft white rug, as had become their routine in the past couple of lessons. He browsed his blue notebook. He had a dozen pages worth of notes about French kissing. The previous time, he had shown Vegeta some individual gestures that he knew Bulma to enjoy. Clearly he had not been in the wrong about them.

“So, Frenching is really all about communication”, he began. “The stuff I showed you last week is all good material, but the real knack is to be in dialogue with your partner; to incite, to sense and to react. And there are no real tricks or secrets to that, it only takes experimenting. So, I was thinking that today, I could initiate different things, imitate the kind of things she might do and… and you can just feel about and react and do whatever feels like is the right thing to do. All right?”
Vegeta was, again, silent for a moment before he spoke. He squinted slightly as he looked at Yamcha, appearing… suspicious, somehow? Yamcha wondered what was causing the prince’s unhabitual behaviour, even going as far as to ask if there was something stuck on his face that the other was bothered by.
“Do whatever I feel is the right thing to do. Yes?” Vegeta finally spoke, repeating Yamcha’s words slowly. The human nodded and stuttered his concession. What was up with Vegeta today? While he pondered, the Saiyan dragged himself closer on the floor until their knees were laced. He then brought his hands on each side of Yamcha’s face and gently pulled him closer as he himself leaned over. Both closed their eyes. Vegeta swiped a stray strand of hair behind the human’s ear as he softly brushed his mouth over Yamcha’s. He repeated the tender gesture a few times, gradually seizing more of the other’s lips between his own, before tilting his head to the side and opening his mouth wider to claim the other’s mouth completely. Yamcha responded collectedly, allowing Vegeta to lead the interaction. Like Bulma often would, he put one hand on Vegeta’s back and slid the other up the nape of his neck before settling it on at the base of his skull, his fingers burrowing into the thicket of black hair.
Yamcha felt a thumb on his chin, coaxing him to open his mouth wider, and he complied. Vegeta’s tongue brushed the inside of his cheek, quickly at first, then slowly, dragging its whole surface against the wall of his mouth. And there it was again, the familiar tingling filling him from the inside. Ignoring it, Yamcha reciprocated by sliding the tip of his own tongue along the underline of Vegeta’s. The prince reacted, and their tongues circled each other, until Vegeta gobbled Yamcha’s tongue entirely. The unexpectedly strong stimuli made Yamcha flinch and gasp. The warrior then withdrew just enough to be able to turn his head to the other side and devoured the human’s mouth again, his tongue trailing along the other’s palate. Yamcha reacted avidly, then proceeded to goad the other with gestures of his own. Soon he found his hands were travelling around Vegeta’s body, and the prince wrapped his arms around the human, pulling them both up to stand on their knees. They sucked and licked each other’s lips covetously, and Yamcha forgot all about trying to imitate Bulma – his thoughts were all about the rocky pectorals he was pressed against, the huge arms around his waist and the salty, moist lips between his.
Then he felt a shove against his chest and he fell backwards. Vegeta’s hand supported his neck and placed his head gently on the floor. Once safely down, the prince tore his mouth away from Yamcha’s and started kissing his neck, one hand slipping under his shirt. The other hand slid down the back of his head, pulled off his hair tie and proceeded to caress his cheek. Yamcha gasped and groaned despite himself as Vegeta’s lips gobbled and pinched his sensitive skin and the prince’s demanding tongue glided along his neck in long, stimulating strokes. He felt hot and the tingling sensation inside him intensified. Hearing Vegeta’s low murmurs and heavy breathing titillated him further, and he suddenly became aware of how genuinely turned on he was. He was quick to scold himself: Don’t be stupid, he told himself – Vegeta is giving it his all, he’s really committing to his goals. I’m only supposed to counterpoise. This isn’t about me. This is about –
His trail of thought was interrupted when he made a stunning realization. In their past meetings, Vegeta would replicate how he would touch Bulma, touching his waist and neck and such – but right now, the Saiyan’s fingers were rubbing against his abdominal muscles, and the thumb of his other hand was stroking the scar of his cheek. Bulma had no scars or abs to speak of. Which had to mean that Vegeta was not in fact picturing his wife, but was fully aware who the person beneath him was, and was doing these things intentionally to him. To Yamcha.
Vegeta ran his tongue up the side of Yamcha’s neck, and the human conformed and turned his face away. He moaned as the moist tongue glossed over his ear and his earlobe was pinched between the Saiyan’s lips. As Vegeta nibbled, Yamcha yelped out loud – and quickly covered his mouth with one hand. Knowing that Vegeta was concentrated on him, that the prince was in the moment just as much as he, filled Yamcha with an uncontrollable ardour. The fingers fondling his body were fondling him. The mouth kissing his ear was kissing him. And it all felt so good yet scary. He inhaled and exhaled heavily through his nose, pressing his hand over his mouth to stifle the involuntary sounds he couldn’t hold back. But Vegeta would have none of that. The prince parted with Yamcha’s ear, lifted himself slightly and used one hand to grab the human’s wrist and to pin it to the floor beside him. With his other hand, Vegeta gripped Yamcha by the chin and turned his head back upwards. Then he reclaimed the now uncovered mouth, plunging his tongue inside the warm, wet opening. And Yamcha couldn’t help but respond with equal passion, running his free hand all over Vegeta’s back.
As their tongues wrestled, it dawned on Yamcha that he was becoming aroused to the extent it would soon be evident to the other party as well. Blood packed in his groin area and his underwear felt tighter by the second. Oh shit, God, no, he thought to himself. What would Vegeta say if he realized Yamcha was getting hard? Surely, that’s where he would draw the line. If he moved back even a little, or if he decided to run his hand down Yamcha’s front again – no, that he didn’t want to happen. No, no. Just no.
Yamcha opened his eyes and yanked his face away from Vegeta.
“Stop”, he whispered, voice breathy, “Vegeta, stop. That’s – that’s enough. Vegeta.
The prince stopped moving – and after a second, lifted himself up. As soon as he had the mobility, Yamcha sat up and retracted. For a moment the two sat still, catching their breaths, until Yamcha dared to look up. So did Vegeta, and for an instant they looked each other in the eyes. Seeing Vegeta there, chest heaving, lips slightly parted, cheeks rosy, looking at him, shook Yamcha. He diverted his eyes, which were blurry for some reason. He forced a smile and a small laugh.
“Wow”, he panted. “I’ll say, that was – you have – wow. No wonder Bulma called me.”
Vegeta muttered in agreement, uneasy. Looking away from Yamcha, he cleared his throat and sat back.
“Naturally”, he said quietly and wiped his mouth. For a minute, they sat in awkward silence.
“So, uh… Do you want to… settle the next meeting?” Yamcha asked finally, his voice thin.
“Why not”, said Vegeta in a colourless voice. “Saturday fine with you?”
Yamcha began a word and then decided not to say it. His teammates were planning on going out for drinks after practice on Saturday. He had been looking forward to it. As good as it had felt to be embraced, he wasn’t ready to give up his scarce social events for Vegeta’s sake just yet.
“Sorry”, he whispered. “Sunday?”
The prince sniffled and rose to his feet.
“I’m unavailable”, he stated. “I’ll call.”

TBC
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First lesson	By : Grezildetwist Category: Missing Data > Missing Data Views: 162 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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First lesson