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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.

Chapter List
- 4
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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.

Sigart: The short chapters are just my style ^^ (MS Word will do ™ automatically if you put it in brackets.)

ladyshadowdragon: in more ways than one!

Zee and Moiira: I can’t wait to find out, either – I’m totally making this up as I go.

animeslave18: nah, Vegeta is the one character I never block on. He’s a lot like me … except for the whole planet-murdering thing.

Pixelgoddess: there’s a while yet before we get to the collar ^^

Next week I’ll be starting a new multi-chapter story in the Transformers section; please check it out! ^^

In this chapter: food and smut.

***

Chapter 5: Dinner and Rules

***

     A soft chime interrupts my reading, and I look up from the journal to find that I’m leaning against Kakarott’s calves, my chin on his knee and one arm draped across his lap as I read. I immediately sit up straight, wondering why he didn’t correct me on this lapse. For that matter, what am I doing, letting myself go like that when I should be on my best behavior? Kakarott doesn’t seem to mind; he stands up and again waves for me to follow, leading me back into the kitchen.

     “Everything should be done. Here, take this.” He shoves a wicker basket the size of a small boat, filled to the brim with bread rolls, into my hands. The smell hits my nostrils and reminds my stomach that I haven’t eaten since breakfast with some energetic exercise in between. A growl emerges from my midsection. Kakarott, holding an equally large salad, chuckled. “Hold that thought for a minute, Vegeta.” He elbows open the house’s back door, which leads out onto a porch overlooking the lake. There’s a low table and another sofa there – this one covered in striped canvas. Blue and orange, of course. In two more trips, the kitchen produces baked beans, potatoes, iced tea, and steamed fish, all in Saiyan-sized portions. On the other hand, the only utensils that Kakarott takes out are a glass, a bowl, a large spoon, and a bottle of mustard.

      He sits on the striped couch and gives me a significant look; I take this to mean I should kneel at his side again. He smiles down at me and runs his fingers through my hair. The scent of so much food is making my mouth water, but I’m certain that this is another test; I keep my hands on my thighs. Kakarott grins and takes a roll, tears it in two, and eats half of it. He holds the other half in front of me, right where I can take it from his fingers with my teeth. So I do.

       The roll is light and crusty, with crisp angles that dig into my tongue as I chew. Its rich aroma of roasted grain is unlike anything I’ve encountered, even at that woman’s mansion. I close my eyes to better focus on the flavor, and purr a little as I swallow it. “Fresh out of the oven,” Kakarott tells me. “Try one of these.”

      He’s holding out one of the little fishes, only as long as his hand; I catch it head first. The sauce on his lips shows that he has already eaten one himself. Wait a minute, he’s feeding me scraps from his table. Sort of. Once again, he’s taken the action of a tyrant and turned it on its ear, made it something welcoming. I watch him break open a potato and squeeze mustard onto it. “You put mustard on potatoes?”

      “Sure, it’s great.” He practically swallows it whole. “Want to try?”

      “Why not.”

      The mustard potato is not bad, though not what I would choose myself. Kakarott pours ice tea into the glass and the bowl, which he sets on the floor in front of me. “Drink without using your hands,” he says.

      I flush. This is embarrassing. This is absurd. This … is Kakarott asserting his dominance. And I like it. Slowly I bend down to lap tea from the bowl, baring my whole back to him. Being in this position ignites a warmth in my center which I’m starting to associate with him and his power. There is still a part of my mind that expects a blow or strike, but it is getting smaller. His tail brushes over my skin, bringing heat to the surface under it; my own tail curls around his ankles. When I raise my head, he’s grinning at me.

     The rest of the meal passes in similar fashion; I’m not surprised to discover that Kakarott can discuss food at great length. He’s still speaking Saiyan with me. Strangely, his voice is about two octaves deeper than when he speaks Common or human languages – this must be his natural voice, and it doesn’t grate on my ears like the other one does. And a good thing, too, considering how much I’m going to be listening to him. Eventually the food is gone; Kakarott tells me, “Take the dishes into the kitchen and come back here.”

      Not a surprise. Menial tasks are the subordinate’s job … I’ve been taught that I’m supposed to resent this, but I don’t. And Kakarott is staring at my backside as I collect the plates. I swish my tail at him; he chuckles. When I come back outside, he has taken out another book from somewhere. This one is a three-ring binder, blue, with a slim sheaf of pages in it.

      “This will help you keep track of what I expect of you,” he says. “In this binder are the rules I expect you to follow without instructions. I’ll write them in as I introduce them, and you can always check back on what’s in here.” That’s … amazingly organized of him, but then second maturation will do that to people. The rules are each written on a separate sheet, in Saiyan. There are only three at the moment:

- Within the house and when no company is present, Vegeta may not wear any clothing.

- When seated, Vegeta will kneel at Kakarott’s feet.

- During a formal meal, Vegeta will not use his hands to eat, and will drink from a bowl on the floor.

     Fairly basic things, considering he would be within his rights to chain me to a post in the yard. But this is obviously just the beginning. And … he must have put the binder out here before I arrived, with exactly those rules in it. Which means he had the entire day’s events laid out in advance. My heart beats faster; I feel wetness under my tail. “So, what is this plan that you wrote about in your journal?”

      “You’ll find out as we go along.” Ah, I like that tone of voice – especially the parts of me below the belt. He sets the rule book aside. “For now, go and lean over the porch railing.”

      Now what? I step up to the railing, rest my upper arms on it and lean my chin on my crossed wrists. The mood has shifted; I can feel him watching me, tingles racing up my spine. I know this feeling well. My fighting instincts scream of danger, but this is Kakarott. Memories of searing pleasure wrestle with my nervousness. He stands, stalks towards me – once again I am frozen in place. I only know he has moved by his ki; he is completely silent, and that is frightening and arousing in equal measure.

      Then his hands come down on my hips, and in an instant it’s all lust, all craving. Pools of heat spread across my back from his touch, and my tail fur bristles and quivers. His thumbs trace circles on either side of my tail, pressing into the muscle. I mewl; he purrs, his breath tickling the back of my neck. I can feel his hardness against me. My tail lifts out of the way, and he’s pressing against my entrance. He leans over me – his skin against mine, I feel dizzy – it seems he won’t make me beg tonight. He presses in …

     Kami. It is that good every time. My breath comes out of me as a long moan; Kakarott nips at my neck. He strokes into me, long and slow, a rhythm that makes my knees turn to jelly. The heat builds gradually, this time, until I’m gasping and trembling under him. When I finally reach my climax, I feel it from the root of my tail all the way up to my ribs. Kakarott keeps on thrusting through it, and soon afterward I hear his growl and feel his seed spill into me.

     He carries me back to the canvas sofa before pulling out of me; I am limp with the aftermath of my orgasm. That makes three, each different from the other, in the space of less than two days. How much of this new world is there to discover? And what is this plan that Kakarott has in mind for me?

***

You may have noticed I got tired of writing in bottles of lube everywhere, so I went with the bizarre alien biology substitute.

Next chapter: when lawyers attack!
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much