Desecration: Feral | By : sefiru Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4692 -:- 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. |
Desecration: Feral
By Sefiru
Summary: Goku has gone feral and is living in the forest …
and now it’s mating season.
Warnings: NC-17, yaoi, anal.
Actually pretty tame considering the source material ^^;
Pairing: Vegeta x Goku
Disclaimer: I own Dragonball only
in my freams and Akira Toriyama’s
nightmares. Thank you to Vixen for letting me use her
story idea.
Zofo: It’s not an isolated
incident, which you can see if you read the original story (search
“Desecration”). Most of my DBZ stories have BDSM in them; “D:Alternate” is probably the most hardcore.
kit-kit: I’m afraid there’s no plotspace
for the porn in this one, but I’ll see if I can work it into another one.
Angela: thank you for joining us! Never fear, *something* will always appear on
Friday … and while this story will wrap up soon, I have more Saiyan-y goodness in store.
***
Chapter 4: The Nature of Saiyans
***
Fortunately for
Vegeta’s sanity, the equipment he needed was all in one place, in capsules on
his warbelt which he always kept prepared. This meant
he had only one stop to make before his rampaging instincts dragged him out of
the house by his scruff. By this time he was starting to annoy himself; while
something was certainly wrong with Kakarott, there was no rational reason to
rush off wily-nily with nothing but the lint in his
pocket. Bulma said something,
he growled to shut her up and left her gaping in the hall.
Once he was in
the air and pointed at Kakarott’s territory, he immediately felt relief; he was
doing the right thing. In spite of himself. He
growled; the weather was much too good for a situation like this, it should be
wet and gloomy. As he flew he mentally discarded possible causes of Kakarott’s
trouble. The ki signature was all
wrong for an acute injury, nor was it dropping fast, which ruled out poison.
The most likely cause for this episode was illness – a lucky bacteria or
devious virus, perhaps. He ascertained that Kakarott was in his den, so that
was one less problem to deal with.
He landed
outside the cave, only to be struck by the faint sounds coming from within. Soft, high-pitched noises, calls from a Saiyan
to his family. Help me. Help me, mate. The instinctive pull was so
strong it felt like gravity had tilted on its side. Vegeta huffed and padded
inside; the nest of bearskins was as he remembered, and Kakarott was curled in
a ball in the middle of it. The feral Saiyan whined a
greeting, cracking open a dull eye. As expected, sick as a dog. Vegeta snorted;
he dimly recalled Trunks saying something about going for senzu,
and he was going to need it. Ironically, Kakarott’s problem was that he wasn’t
sick enough – his Saiyan constitution had long since
burned out any puny Earth bugs, and his current
condition was the result of his immune system chasing its own tail. It needed
to get straightened out before it attacked something it shouldn’t.
For the time
being, though, what Kakarott could use most was rest. He could not believe that
he, a Prince of the Royal House was doing this; bloody instincts. They made him
feel comfortable as he stripped off his clothes and tucked himself around
Kakarott in the furs. He ran his fingers through the feral’s
hair and started grooming him; Kakarott purred weakly and his ki steadied. Vegeta realized he was smiling and willed his
face back to neutral. He was not pleased about this, dammit.
The trouble was, that was clearly a lie. As soon as
the other man’s scent hit his nostrils, unnoticed tension drained out of him,
and his limbs stretched out in the nest.
Hell. The
missing element in his bedroom was Kakarott? He wouldn’t ever get a proper
night’s sleep without being next to this? Even now, the purring rumble against
his chest was making … his … eyes … hea ….
… He woke to
a shrill bleeping, accompanied by Kakarott’s growl. The feral was glaring at his
communicator, which was making the noise, and lashing his tail as well as he
was able. Vegeta shoved him down into the furs. “Settle down, you damned lump.”
He switched the comm on. “What do you want?”
Bulma looked up at him from the tiny screen. “Well aren’t you
in a good mood this morning. How is he?”
In the
background Trunks muttered, “please don’t tell us he’s pregnant or something.”
“If he is,
you’d better not be the father,” Vegeta mock-growled.
“What?!”
“Don’t be absurd,” Bulma
said. “I’ve been over Goku’s physiology backward and
forward; he’s not any kind of hermaphrodite.”
Vegeta
snickered at the look on Trunks’s face. “If you’re
that gullible, boy, someone might knock you up one of these days.”
“Hey, I –
wait a minute.”
“Stop teasing
your son, Vegeta. We’re bringing the senzu.”
“Have you lost
your mind, woman? If any of you enter his territory, you’ll set him off again.”
“Then how do
you expect us to get them to you, Mr. Pure-blood Saiyan?
You and your species are going to drive me crazy yet.”
If she
expected him to get out of his comfortable nest, she already was crazy. Vegeta
thought a moment. “Send Goten, he’s safest.”
“If you say so.” She disconnected. He tossed the device into
a corner and turned back to his mate. There was no doubt about it, they had
mate bonded; after sleeping through the night, Vegeta
found he couldn’t even get annoyed about it. He, the Prince of All Saiyans, did not need a mate or companion – did he? He must
either need or want this, or it wouldn’t feel so damnably good. What had his
original problem been with Kakarott? His constant chatter?
These days he never said a word. His inane friendliness?
He was as suspicious as any wild beast. His disregard for
rank? Rank was an artifact of culture, erased with everything else in
the feral break; Kakarott was subordinate in their mating. And he sure knew how
to build a proper den. Crap, I’m
rationalizing. He might as well give it up as a lost cause and go on with
his life of debauchery. In the end Kakarott got what he wanted; he was much
cleverer without his brain getting in the way.
As he
contemplated, Vegeta’s fingers crept back into Kakarott’s hair, grooming. He
paused as he noticed this, sighed and continued. Would this life be so bad? Sex, sparring and the hunt, a comfortable nest, the lack of
annoying neighbors. If he left aside the things he did to keep up
appearances – and that included wearing clothes – he really needed very little.
And if he wanted such amenities as a hot bath or a video, well, that was what
capsule houses were for. Why shouldn’t he stay here?
He sensed Goten’s ki approaching. The
younger Saiyan landed on the lip of the cave and
paused, as if unsure what to do. “Come here, boy.”
“You’re, uh,
naked.”
Obviously. “The skin contact calms him.” Kakarott had sat up
in the furs and was looking back and forth between the two of them, a nervous
whine in his throat. As Vegeta thought back on his research, he figured out
what was bothering the feral. “Here,” he said, and ruffled Goten’s
hair with his hand.
“Hey! What was
that for?”
Vegeta was not
about to explain about prehistoric Saiyan culture, in
which only the strongest male and female in a pack could breed, and were known
to kill the offspring of lesser members. By marking Goten
with his scent, he’d assured Kakarott that he didn’t intend to harm him. The
instinctive gesture came so easily … He held out his hand, Goten
placed a senzu in it, and he spent the next few
minutes convincing Kakarott to eat it. No appetite? He really was sick. But the
bean went down and he brightened up immediately, sitting up straight and
blinking to clear his eyes. He studied his son with head cocked. “Goten,” he chirped.
Vegeta was
mildly surprised to hear this, since it was the first time the feral had said
any word besides his name. Then
again, Kakarott was the only feral he’d heard or read of that spoke at all.
Perhaps it was not so strange that he would remember his son’s name. Goten studied his father in turn “Dad …? It is him, but
it’s not. And why won’t he talk?”
“He doesn’t
remember what language is. From his point of view, we make some noises and he
magically knows what we want. That is part of being feral.” While Vegeta was
talking, Kakarott yanked Goten into the nest and
started grooming his hair, purring. Goten managed a
purr of his own, proving that the Saiyan instincts
lived on in him. The scene was peacefully, weirdly domestic.
“I guess he
looks good,” the Demi eventually said. “Really happy, not that fakey
too-much-sugar happy. Dad never was cut out for civilization.”
“None of us
are, not for Earth culture,” Vegeta grumbled. He took one of the bearskins and
rolled up in it. “Go pack up my things from Capsule Corp and bring them here.
You can tell the woman I’m not going back.”
***
Kakarott always gets what he wants in the end. It’s like a
law of physics or something.
Next chapter: a lemony finale.
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