Much Like Suffocating
Much Like Suffocating
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Much Like Suffocating
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WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS:
instead of just reading it? (Insert
standard disclaimer here: I don’t own Vegeta,
Goku, (any other characters mentioned herein) or the show they came from DBZ
DBGT or just plain DB.)
ALL RIGHTY. *rubs hands
together and looks up terms for the list of warnings: *
already screaming. You can read
it. I swear It’ll be chocked full of
lemony goodness. LEMONS (Not talking
about the fruit here, either. I’m
talking about the sex ones; although how did it come to be a ‘lemon’
anyway?) Homosexuality (er…duh.)
Gasp): bondage, shady professions, and
graphic descriptions. (Hopefully
graphic anywho.) Also, dirty language
doubtlessly.
As always I strive to keep folk in character even when they are not
‘themselves’ in the canon-sense. If
you’re reading this and you’re like they are so not in character, give it a
chappie or two and see if you still think that.
I tried very hard not to write this.
bunny (the plot bunny) until it went away.
And you see how far that got me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****
Whatever
it was that the short man was riding, Goku was absolutely jealous.
ran straight through him, and he had to clench his hands at his sides to keep
from reaching out and taking what he wanted.
It
could have been the slick shine of the oil they put on the deep bronzed skin,
it could have been the flare of the black hair, highlighted by the light and
silky-looking as it moved in a wave undulating with the body that was bucking
endlessly. It could have been the
backward tilt of the head, the long throat displayed for the taking, or it
could have been the utter abandon, the thrust of the hips against nothing.
But
no, as he watched and started to breath heavy, it was probably the finger in
his mouth.s"> His own finger, dipping down
into his own mouth and he was sucking on it, rolling it around his own mouth as
he moved endless on… Nothing.
down against air like someone or something should have been there and
wasn’t.
Even
that, Goku figured, wasn’t entirely the truth, now was it?
are going to survive. He wanted this
man for reasons deeper and more importantly than just the sex he was
embodying. There was a commonality
between them, a bond because here they were, the only two of their kind on this
world, and while his smaller counterpart hadn’t a clue how important he was,
Goku did. And he was here for a reason.
The
glittering black eyes opened, the hips slowed, and the bronzed body came to a
short rest, on his knees. Panted and
pulled that finger out of his mouth, a shimmering line of saliva followed his
finger, and he dropped his hand down to his thigh. Stroked it in passing and stared directly at him, seemed to be
pissed at the intrusion. “What do you
want?” he purred, dark, dark husky voice that just trilled with sex.
Was
there some other purpose to go to a whore house? Because if there was, Goku had not been made awof iof it.
least that’s what his father said—and shook his head. Stayed exactly where he was, inside the doorway, not over the
threshold, where a quick and strategic retreat could be made still.
hell that would not go away just because he now had his freedom.
Freedom
carried its scars too.
The
owner of the establishment, the esteemed (hated like people hate maggots)
Freiza approached.spanspan>Swaying back and
forth in a swagger than only creatures with such enormously disgusting tails
could really attain. (Yes, Freiza was a
‘creature;’ nothing that foul got to be given a personality.)
the frigid tone of the skin and the sharp edge of every aspect of the
disgusting perverted kidnapper. But
here, on this planet, in this world, Freiza was a saint.
kind judged themselves and wished to become.
A collector of the rare and precious and the purveyor of every sort of
debauched fantasy a man (woman or creature) could have.
because he had sampled everything.
That
sort of disgusting made his stomach roll and he wished that he could just kill
it dead and leave its mangled corpse there for all the world to find and gawk
at. But he could not.
Freedom
carried its scars, after all.
“Ahhhh,”
it said, in that grating, annoying voice.
Looked at the bronzed and displayed vision of perfection—the sort of
perfect that only Goku could really appreciate because only Goku had ever seen
more like this man—and tsked at it.
“Why have you stopped Vegeta?”
And it stood there, head cocked to the side, staring at Vegeta—that was
his real name too, unfortunately.
Generally Freiza renamed its kidnapped beauties, but the sadistic
pleasure of perverting this man’s name must have made it shiver until it
couldn’t shiver anymore. Vegeta moved
his finger back up to his mouth, closed his eyes and started to rock, went
right back to his previous display.
Living art. “How can I help such
an important guest?” Freiza asked. (Said
these words without inflection, because even if the bastard didn’t recognize
Goku for who he was, there was the understanding that he was absolutely not
worth the time it would take to wipe his bodily fluids off Freiza’s clothes
after he was tortured to death.)
“I
was hoping to speak with you, Lord Freiza,” Oh. Gag him. “I am to be in
town for the next few weeks and wanted to partake,” he paused here, a carefully
planned pause. Stared at the undulating
man, at the sheen of the skin and felt that pang of betrayal run through him
and the flood of arousal (so necessary because Freiza judged real interest by
smell and if he thought for a millisecond that Goku was lying he would kill him
where he stood.) “Of something rare.
Strong.” He looked sheepish,
checked that cheeky grin again, “I’ve been known to be exceptionally rough
sometimes.”
“Naturally,
look at your size and your unnaturally muscled body,” it said this with a hint
of amusement. The sort of amusement
that fighter would use before he defeated an obviously underqualified
opponent. “Vegeta.”
dark eyes to open again. “This?” Freiza
said sweeping his gaze back to Goku, “This is what you wish?”
A
slight look of disinterest always helped, and he scratched the back of his
head, shook his head—bad Goku! DO NOT
DO THAT!—and he said: “He is a precious thing.
Do you really trust me with him?”
gi
giggle. “It does not bruise.
the whole day. Surely you would allow
it to relieve its torment.”
Goku
cracked a cheeky grin. “If it would be
of some service, I would agree.”
Freiza
gave him a blank smile in return. “And
your payment?”
Goku
motioned his arm forward, and the little cloaked thing stepped up—unseen until
this point by Freiza, and that startled and amused him.
sweeping bow, rose both small hands over its head and held out the
envelope. Full of cash and valuable
jewels that Freiza might never have seen if not for this.
The
disgusting thing took the envelope, cracked it open, and looked inside.
“VEGETA!” And the bronzed man climbed
off the pedestal he had been kneeling on this whole time.
he followed with a sway of his hips, a deep seated sway that suggested he was
not truly as interested in what he was doing.
Goku
shuddered just briefly before he stepped over the threshold.
Freedom
had its scars.
He
followed the man and the thing, across the floor—marble and imported stones
stolen from their native planets the same way all the pretty whores were—and he
grit his teeth hard. Focused on the
man’s back before him, focused on making that wash of arousal stay.
Absolute could not let himself slip up and get caught because he didn’t
think he could stand the repercussions.
He turned to look back at the door just as they made the first turn, saw
the little cloaked figure give a slighd and and turn to leave.
Then
they were in the room. Freiza remained
outside, motioned him inside, and Vegeta stepped inside, ran his feet over the
plush carpet, turned and looked at him.
Utterly debauched. Insanely
arousing.
“Enjoy,”
it said to him. Giggled again and
waited for him to step in, waited until Vegeta was leaning against him and then
closed the door behind it and departed.
Really left—because while Freiza was a freak and a pervert, it did not
like to watch. It would smell the room
when they were done and make sure his customer had been saied ied accordingly,
but it would not remain while the deed was done.
Vegeta
pulled back, crossed the room and climbed onto the bed, leaned against the
pillows, pulled his legs up so his knees were bent and splayed and kept sucking
on his finger. “Well?”
The
plan, he whispered to himself, the plan, the plan the plan.
display. Heavy, broad and silver.
brushing.) And he held it effortless in
one hand. Vegeta gave him a bored look.
it billow to the ground. Was wearing
the strangest dark red outfit, and it fitted to him tightly, shaped and
emphasized every curve. This, also, did
not impress him.
“Are
you planning on moving this along?”
Like he had so many better things to do.
The
plan. Freedom.<
st
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> His wrists burned suddenly, and he ignored
it, refused to give into it. Crossed
the room again and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Turn around.” Watched Vegeta
move—liquid movements—and he presented his back to him.
shoulder. Just waited.
still.
Goku
raised the brush, ran it through his hair, watched the wave of it as it rippled
under the bristles. Felt his wrists
stop burning, but the betrayal of it was stinging straight down to his
guts. Let the hand that didn’t hold the
brush run across the oiled shoulder. Breathed
deeply, inhaled the musky scent of him, and wondered how long he had been out
in the lobby of the building, how long it had been since he could satisfy
himself.
Scars.
And
he dropped the brush, moved back, felt himself falling and thought that he was
the stupidest thing. How could they
trust him with this? How could they
expect him to do this for them? He
>He
couldn’t barely even stand to be in Freiza’s presence.
generate the smell of a fully satisfied customer? That part was so necessary, and he couldn’t imagine himself
betraying this man before him that way.
Not
that way.
“Forgive
my directness,” Vegeta said. Turned
around, sucked on that finger—always that finger—and efficiently undid his
pants, pulled them open and looked at him—even managed to be mildly impressed,
which was all part of the act too—and he moved, slid against Goku’s bare
legs. Sank down onto him, closed his
eyes and let his head tip back.
Just
like in the lobby.
Goku
thought he wasng tng to cry. Felt the disastrous
tears in his eyes. Forced them away,
sat up, grabbed the hand out of the man’s mouth. Looked at the finger, stared at it as it glistened in the light,
and tried to figure how they were doing it.
Had to be something with this hand because Vegeta was so desperately
fixated on it.
Ignored
the betrayal, ignored the movement of the bronzed figure on top him, around him
and focused on the finger. Kept it away
from his mouth, wanted to see what the man would do. See how long it would take to get him to realize that this wasn’t
the world he belonged in—remembered how long it had taken him.
And
Vegeta hissed, yanked his hand back, “Do
I displease you?” he asked.
“No,”
Goku said. Crack a cheeky grin.
training rise in him, laid the smaller figure out on the bed, slid his hands up
silky, smooth thighs that bore the fragrant oils. Closed his mouth around the erection and felt the hands in his
hair, felt the sharp twist of surprise.
The intact of breath and the bewilderment. The thrust of hips, the real need in the action and not that slow
and sultry dance. Kept one hand on
Vegeta’s hip (ignore the betrayal, ignore the betrayal) and dropped his other
hand down to his own flagging erection.
Made himself feel aroused, and then stroked himself in time with the
bobs of his head.
Made
it happen.
(Ignore
the betrayal.)
Felt
the burn of scars when he swallowed all of Vegeta and felt his own
release. Pulled back.
off the bed, fixed his pants and pulled his robe on. Tried so hard not to shake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***
Confused?
Think I’m insane?! (I am.)
Vegeta: How
many stories is this thus far?
Goku: You
mean in total or current projects?
Vegeta:
Current.
Gk: Uh…
Group Therapy, The Meaning of Pride, Never Before and now Much Like Suffocating.
5!
Vegeta:
Oi. She’s freaking crazy.
Gk: Yep.