A King With Chaos | By : CardDragonBall Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2668 -:- 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. |
150%;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2;tab-stops:list .75in'>a.
I’m not sure that anyone would want me to own DBZ, DB or DBGT
because I’d probably do something really odd with it. Thusly, I have come to the sad conclusion that I will never own
it. No profit will ever be made. I’d really appreciate it if you would stop
rubbing it in.
b. Okay,
it’s not necessary to read all of the therapy fics, but it is necessary to read
APAM. Otherwise you might be
confused.
c.
AS USUAL, there is SEX, SLASH (homosexual sex, usually
descriptive like) SAIYANS (thusly, violence, bad language dirtiness, lewd
displays.) All my original
characters: Red, Goten, Lil’Geta,
Caradoc (sigh, yes he’s still alive) and Presta (as well as Bardock’s other son
Tuari.)
d. AU. Humor.
Sex. Saiyan home planet (which I
hear is named Vegeta-sei. Yay!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***
It
got old. His dear sweet brother must have realized that it would get
old after a while. Must have known that
he would hate it. Had to have known
because there was no way on earth the fucking King of Saiyans would have
sent him out here to this hell hole without the knowledge of what it
would be like for him. Like it was his
fucking fault that his father had tried to kill his dear sweet brother
and thusly he was raised with the (obviously very incorrect) belief that he was
the one that should have been king.
It
would have been the nice thing to do for Vegeta to kill him. That would have been polite and make him
worthy of the energy it took an ascended King to kill him. But no, he was just gotten rid of, disposed
out here with the third class because he was stripped of all titles. Allowed to keep the name his father had
given him, but that was it. He was
nobody just like everyone else, only he wasn’t as strong as they were—not
originally—and no third class moron was going to pass up the fucking chance to
beat up a former Prince. That would be
fucking unthinkable.
The
first two years were hell. He was
beaten bloody every day, but he kept his mouth shut about it, let them walk
around with their fucking smirks of superiority and his blood on their
fists. Bardock—the leader of this
ragged cesspool of shit—would just look at him and shake his head but he didn’t
step in. Neither did his offspring
(Radditz he thought his name was) but Radditz died by the fourth year and that
was the end of his involvement. Of
course, by the fourth year he figured that if he could blind the assholes or
injure them they would leave him alone for longer periods of time. So he figured out really fast that if you
stabbed them in that flesh right above the kneecap you could keep your
assailants away from your ass for much longer.
By the time fourteen years had passed he realized that he was going to
make his fucking bastard brother pay for literally tossing him out here and
forgetting about his existence. It was
one thing to prove a point, it was another to drive it home by leaving him in
this world that stank like sweat and sex and was filled to the brim with dirty
leering (larger) Saiyans.
Why
the fuck were the Royals smaller than the average Saiyan? He felt like a damn midget, but most of the
time his smaller size let him duck under the arms of his would-be attackers,
and by now, they had learned to leave him alone.
Mocked
him now, for the past eight years, called him “his highness Caradoc” but they
stopped thinking they could use him as a punching bag. Kept their distance because a day didn’t
pass when he didn’t have his trusty knives with him. Bardock told him not to cut off any more kneecaps, but he could
do whatever else was necessary to protect himself.
Today
they weren’t doing anything. Today, it
was raining and he was bored. Sitting
outside his tent (that was only large enough for him and was the only truly
clean one here) picking his teeth with his favorite knife. Soaked to the bone, watching the others as
they took advantage of the rain to shower and ran around naked, tossing mud and
jeers at one another. Eventually the
females would be taken back to a tent by the men, but right now they were in
that stage where they were just flirting and he rolled his eyes at it. Less than a quarter of the camp was female,
and more than half of the men preferred the company of their own.
“Ass
Monkey!” came a unfamiliar voice, heavy with an accent he didn’t understand and
when he looked at the mouth of the camp, he saw… No fucking way he was looking at a real set of twins. Twins, a Super Saiyan and something else
that was taking in the sight of the camp like he had never seen anything quite
as unreal. A priss, how unusual.
He
got up and sheathed the knife back into the holster on his thigh. Walked over to them and the frolicking naked
ones behind him didn’t even stop their flirting banter as the twins turned and
looked at him with all the arrogance of his dear sweet brother, and
strangely enough he could have swore that they looked like the bastard too.
Tuari
hoped around them and flashed him a smile.
“This is my friend, Presta,” pointed at the female Super Saiyan
that was stinking like a ‘come and fuck me’ sign. Moving like someone had already done the job, but she hadn’t
taken to it. Looked at the twins again,
and they looked at him, the grinning one gave him a nod, the other gave him a
sniff of disapproval.
“Hello
Caradoc,” the grinning one said—apparently the one that shouted Ass Monkey.
“Goten,”
the not-grinning one said sharply, “Don’t.”
“Bardock!”
Presta shouted and flew across the camp to the Commander (that’s what they
called him now) threw both her arms around him and he looked more than a little
astounded as he patted her on the back and said something that he couldn’t hear
from all this way away.
Tuari
was pouting. Glared at him when he gave
the bean-pole thin son of the Commander a smirk. “Shut up Princey,” he said and then stalked off to his tent.
Which
left him with the twins and the priss-boy who was running his hands through his
hair and wagging his tail behind him in nervous swishes. He smelled odd. It was hard to tell, anymore, but the kid could have been a
half-breed.
“Gohan,”
the more serious, less amused twin said, “This is Caradoc. I’m sure he’d be nice enough to show you
around.” Then the two twins moved
forward, eerily identical in the way they moved, and their clothes. He watched them walk up to Bardock and shake
his hand and all of them were invited back into the tent where the Super Saiyan
girl glowed like a lightbulb and illuminated it from the inside out.
He
looked at the half-breed he was left with and shook his head. “Come on.
We can talk in my tent.”
“Your tent?” it
squeaked at him.
“Look,
if I wanyouryour ass, I would tell you that I want your ass. For now, we’ll just talk.” Then he walked away from him, and left the
kid to figure out if he wanted to follow or not. By the looks of him with his pretty smooth skin and swishy
nervous tail, he hadn’t been in a decent fight in his life. Immediate punching-bag pick for the camp.
~~~***
Ah,
the King was annoyed. Bristling with
annoyance. Hardly a surprise. There were more than a fair share of folk in
the universe that wanted his mate’s head on a golden platter, and the King had
yet to produce an heir for his jittery species. They were endlessly after him to pick of the available wombs
(that’s what Kakarot called him because other than their ability to have
babies, there was nothing attractive about them.) Thus far, Vegeta hadn’t given in and made himself a fat-cheeked
baby, but Kakarot had the sneaking suspicion that he would have to eventually.
Now,
however, he didn’t have to. He just
stood in their rooms, bristling with annoyance so much that his tail was bushed
out and Kakarot got up from his place on the pile of pillows to walk over to
his mate. He was already stripped down
to his skin. It was late, it was dark
and he only trained the elites until the afternoon anyway. He couldn’t stand them for any longer than
that.
Vegeta
looked at him. Growled in annoyance and
grabbed the crown off his head, tossed it across the room so it clattered on
the floor and rolled. Kakarot just
smirked and set about disrobing his smaller mate. Vegeta let himself be stripped but didn’t participate.
“I’m
going to kill him,” Vegeta informed him finally, “I’m going to take the royal
fucking scepter and I’m going to shove it so far up that cocky Duke’s ass that
he’s sucking on it. Then I’m going to
rip his guts out, wrap them around his knees and hang him upside down until he
chokes on his own blood.”
“Vegeta,”
he said lowly as he dropped to his knees and ran his hands down his mate’s
chest, making him shiver and look down.
Pressed a kiss to his stomach and gave him a ‘naughty grin.’ “Is there even a royal scepter?”
“I’ll
make one,” Vegeta informed him. Shook
harder when his tail was stroked and his knees started to give out, because he
sank down next to Kakarot on the floor and gave him a rather petulant look as
if it demand why they were on the cold floor when there was a large bed that
they could be on right now.
Kakarot
rolled his eyes and carried Vegeta over to the bed, dropped his kingly behind
on it and climbed onto the bed on top of him, supported himself on his elbows
and kissed Vegeta’s throat, down to his chest again and heard the frustrated
growls and muttered little: “Pound his bones to dust…” and “Rip his balls off and…”
Finally
the King looked down at him, lifted his legs up and pressed his knees against
Kakarot’s ribs. “Foreplay is a waste of
time, Kakarot, just fuck me already.”
And
it was completely impossible for him to deny a command from his mate, so with a
much put-upon sigh he grabbed the container of salve they used for the
lubrication and slicked his erection and Vegeta’s entrance, one finger to
spread it around and then Vegeta gave him a raised eyebrow as an unspoken: “Why
are you taken so much time?” so he lifted up his mate’s hips and sank down into
him. Heard the stuttered gasp and hands
curled tight around his upper arms, the smaller, hard body under him arched up
and brushed against all his skin as he groaned and grit his teeth against the
heat surrounding him.
Vegeta
grabbed him by the hair and dragged him down so he could kiss him. Sloppy open mouth kisses and hard sucking
kisses as his mate rocked back against him.
Whimpered and open and he started to move. Sank into his mate slowly, tortured him and grinned into the
kisses as the hips moved back against him harder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***
Special thankies to everyone that
came up with an idea for a title.
Caradoc: Oi.
Vegeta: Shut up you worthless whelp.
Lil’Geta: Damn.
Goten:
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