Heaven Knows | By : debbiechan Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1115 -:- 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. |
Heaven Knows
by debbiechan
TRUE DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN DBZ.
UNTRUE, FAKE, BALONEY, JOKEY Disclaimer: I do own DBZ, and I’ve just sold the rights to FOX for a full-length live action yaoi movie starring Luther Reigns from WWE Smackdown as Raditz. Go now, spread the rumor.
Warnings: Explicit yaoi (male/male sex), profane language, one reference to pedophilia, a hint of non-consensual adult sex, and all these things taking place in a sort of sacred afterlife.
Pairing: R/V.
A/N: This weird piece is dedicated to Kazuki, for her kind translation of my yaoi fic "No One Else" into Japanese. Her beautiful drawing of Raditz kissing Vegeta’s hand inspired this story--only because I was staring at it every day on my wall.
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The worst thing about being dead was the long wait in line.
The searing pain from being shot in the chest had lasted longer than Raditz expected, but he was feeling better now. If he raised his arms and clenched his biceps there was only a mild ache in his upper torso. What was weird was how--if he opened his fists and relaxed his muscles--the outlines of his body seemed to feather into white smoke.
The other beings standing in the line looked like tufts of meringue. Raditz figured Kakkarot was one of them, but there was no telling what these spirits had looked like alive. Raditz could see his own body, but it kept fading and reappearing.
"I don’t think the good people should have to wait."
"Ssssh, I don’t think impatience is going to win you any favors at the end of the line."
The creampuff beings were speaking to one another in soundless voices. Raditz remembered the rumor from his childhood that some Saiyan highborns could read minds, but he himself, not being an Elite, had never been able to develop even the most scant of telepathic abilities. He strained his newly dead senses to hear more of what the creampuffs were saying, but all he could receive was their bland sense of wonder over what awaited them.
Fuck this shit. Kakkarot could wait like a whipped candy for his fate, but Raditz was out of here. He stomped out of line.
A humanoid creature materialized in front of him. It was sky blue and had two nubby infantile horns on the top of its head. "No leaving the line," it said and outstretched its arms. It wore a bored expression, like every other bottom-rung clerk in the universe.
Raditz backhanded it easily and kept on walking.
White fog everywhere. Whoever made up those stories about ghosts oozing ectoplasm and the afterlife being all clouds wasn’t kidding. There was loneliness stretching out as far as the eye could see. Raditz got a vague notion that if he turned one way, it was the past, and if he turned another, it was the future. His usually keen Saiyan sense of orientation wasn’t serving him in terms of up or down, east or west, right or left, but when he walked one way he felt accosted by feelings of nostalgia, sorrow, and regret. And the other direction felt more dreadful (fraught with unexplored feelings?) but challenging.
He stood still for a moment, maybe for a few years, and considered his dilemma.
Raditz wondered how it could be that he was both dead and hungry. If he came across any more complacent creampuffs, he might be compelled to eat them. He was certain there would be repercussions for that sort of behavior, though.
Maybe Kakkarot had wandered into this blank limbo as well. There had to be a special hell somewhere for an idiot who held his own brother in place to be killed. Raditz winced at the memory of the corkscrew blast that had ripped through his chest. Fucking killer beam really hurt. Good thing it had ripped through Kakkarot’s chest too. The real consolation, though, as Raditz lay dying, had been the sound of Vegeta’s voice transmitting through the scouter.
Vegeta had been yelling at him, of course. Something about how Raditz was a fucking moron for telling Big Green Corkscrew Blaster about the existence of more Saiyans. But Raditz knew the prince’s voice well enough to hear exhilaration inside those angry words. Vegeta knew about the dragonballs! Vegeta was not an easy man to please, and oh how rich it was that Raditz had been able to give his prince such a gift before dying.
Raditz decided to keep walking towards the future. His past, the last twenty years of which had been spent serving shit missions for Frieza, wasn’t anyplace he wanted to revisit.
***
Hadn’t Corkscrew Blaster mentioned something about the Earthlings wishing back Kakkarot with the dragonballs?
Maybe in this future (the future was just as white and foggy as the past--it just felt like the future) Kakkarot had been zapped away and was alive again. Maybe if Raditz walked far enough, he would meet his brother wrinkly, old, and dead again after a long, natural life. It was too much to hope that Vegeta would use the dragonballs to wish Raditz back to life. By now Vegeta should have killed every last one of those pale Saiyan look-alikes on that pitiful planet Earth and wished a victory over Frieza.
Raditz stopped walking and lowered his head. When he looked up again, there was Vegeta.
Was it a memory turned hallucination? The prince was wearing broken battle armor of an old style--the standard issue for drones on Frieza’s ship. Not a style Vegeta had worn for years.
Raditz walked closer and saw a large hole in the armor over a raw red abdomen, a smaller perforation over the heart.
This was no hallucination. Vegeta was dead, and Vegeta was here. No question about it. The small man stood, the very picture of tragedy, in the misty nothingness. There were tears in the prince’s eyes--tears!--and smudges of blood on a face that looked as grim and terrible as Raditz had ever seen it. Only Raditz had never looked upon a defeated Vegeta before.
Then he knew: Frieza killed him.
The horror that rose in Raditz’ chest told him for certain where he was. This was hell.
Raditz started to run towards the prince, but something in the atmosphere was slowing his movement. His thigh muscles strained, and his palms felt clotted with heaviness. He pushed his limbs through a white, doughy density and managed to plod forward. Was it the thick air that was choking him? Raditz gagged and realized his throat was full of tears.
He hadn’t cried since he was a child frustrated unto bawling over lousy training sessions. He felt that frustration again--why was it so hard to shove through this atmosphere?
Grief and effort twisted his face; tears clouded his vision, spilled, and then the view was clear again. Only yards away, Vegeta was standing--bloodied, beautiful, and oblivious. "Vegeta-sama!" Raditz’s hand reached out. He saw his own fingers clawed in desperation.
Vegeta turned to look at him, unsurprised. The prince’s face was as cold as ever but something was changed about it. Tears stood in the eyes, for one thing. Raditz could see the eyes clearly now, as well as broad tracks of wetness to one ear, as if tears had poured while the prince was lying down.
A few more lunges through the impossibly thick air and then Raditz was standing right before his sad, murdered prince.
Raditz dropped to his knees.
A strange, strangled voice spoke: "My prince, please…." The noiselessness of this place had been so oppressive that Raditz felt a surge of relief at the sound of his own words-- words that were surfacing with sobs. "Tell me what to do. Please, tell me…."
"You were right," Vegeta said with perfect calm. "Your brother was alive."
The immensity of the moment was not letting the prince’s words register. Was Vegeta saying something about Kakkarot? Raditz stared at Vegeta’s knees and waited to be told to stand up.
"He fights to defend that little world, not to avenge Vegetasei. He tried to kill you, tried to kill me." Vegeta’s voice sounded smooth and detached. There was no pain in it. Why did Raditz expect pain? "And you know what the disgusting part about this is, Raditz? Kakkarot doesn’t even understand who he is."
Who? What? Raditz glanced up. Vegeta seemed stricken with some kind of majestic melancholy. The pain of a violent death showed on his face, but the voice was so calm.
"Kakkarot is fighting Frieza. But unless your brother allows himself to fight like a true Saiyan, Frieza will kill him too."
Raditz wanted to rise, but his prince had not given the word. Kakkarot was fighting Frieza? The horror in Raditz’s chest was turning to joy. My own brother against the greatest enemy of the Saiyan people? His feathery soul could not contain this much emotion. He wanted to throw himself against the prince’s legs, kiss his gloved hands, but the dread of a lifetime was stopping him from such a display. Why did he still fear consequences? What was the worst the prince could do--kill him?
Vegeta’s eyes were scanning the blank, vaporous horizon. "Is my father here?"
It was such a plaintive question that Raditz swallowed his tears and felt he had to compose himself for Vegeta’s sake. The prince needed answers. Raditz lived--scratch that--had lived to serve his prince. He cleared his throat, made a few sniveling, ridiculous sounds in his nose.
"I think only new souls are in this place," Raditz said, although he wasn’t sure how he knew. Maybe one of the feather beings in line had mentioned something. "The king died many many years ago, so his soul…." (How odd it was to know for certain of the existence of souls!) "His soul must have been recycled long ago."
The words were only conjecture, but Vegeta seemed to accept them without emotion--despite the wetness that still gleamed in the prince’s eyes. Raditz felt that, for once, he had some odd authority over his prince. He had always been older than Vegeta, but somehow being dead longer gave him a little actual clout.
"I could see the battle a moment ago," Vegeta said. "I could talk to your brother. I told him…" Vegeta blinked hard, lost the shine in his eyes, and Raditz could see something like the old fire returning to that impassive face. "I reminded Kakkarot that he was the last Saiyan left. The moron doesn’t stand a chance unless he fights like a Saiyan." Vegeta looked down and into Raditz’s eyes. Raditz felt the thrill he always did when Vegeta glared at him that way. How was it possible that they were both dead?
"I can not feel my body," Vegeta said. His eyebrows were making that familiar hard black v in the center of his face. "Sometimes I am a little boy and then I am Oozaru and sometimes I feel as though my tail is back. Tell me, Raditz, is my body here?"
Consequences be damned. Raditz took one of Vegeta’s gloved hands in both of his own and pressed hard. "Can you feel this?"
There was only slight wonder in Vegeta’s frowning face. "Yes."
A third class was not allowed to touch a royal under penalty of death. In another life (before the destruction of Vegetasei had brought something like a first death upon Raditz’s soul), the prince had defied all laws and customs to spar with his strong new guard. It had happened only once: Vegeta, six years old, had kicked Raditz to the ground after an exchange of only four blows. Then, in all their years of serving Frieza, the prince and his guard did not fight again. Vegeta trained alone, or sparred occasionally with Nappa, an Elite who could last an hour with the prince. Raditz had served Vegeta for twenty years with the humiliation that he had so disappointed his prince that first fight.
And now here, Raditz, third class, was kneeling before Vegeta with the prince’s hand clasped in his own.
We’re dead, Raditz reminded himself. And then, with a choking sound, he closed his eyes and brought Vegeta’s hand against his cheek.
He could feel hard knuckles underneath the damp rubbery gloves, but Vegeta’s hand was not moving. Vegeta was not pulling the hand away. Raditz pushed a thumb against the prince’s palm and opened the limp fist. He dropped his face into that hand--his nose against the fingers, his lips against the palm. He pressed a hard, fervent kiss into the center of that palm, and then turned the hand over and kissed the knuckles. The hand moved a little, but the prince was allowing the kisses.
This was not hell; this was heaven.
Raditz’s mind was screaming the feeling: I adore you, my prince.
And when he opened his eyes and looked up at Vegeta, he saw that the prince already knew. Raditz had expected horror, outrage--or worse, a look of mild disdain. Vegeta’s eyes were hard, but…were they still exhausted from having died? Vegeta had always known that Raditz adored him. He had known before Raditz himself had known. And he didn’t seem to care that Raditz was kissing his glove like a moonsick, weeping lover.
This was the part where Vegeta was supposed to strike Raditz to the ground.
It didn’t happen.
Raditz stood up. This act in itself was unprecedented. In all his years of Life, Raditz had never risen from a bow without permission. But this was Death, and Raditz’s body was no longer his own. He wasn’t even sure if he still had a body. By all appearances he did, and the hand he still held in both his own felt real and warm. Even the outlines of Raditz’s arms and legs seemed to have stopped the strange feathering and looked like they always had in life.
Raditz looked up from the glove in his hands to Vegeta’s face.
The prince’s face did not look indifferent anymore. It looked a little startled, and there was a look Raditz had never seen there--it was as if Vegeta, of all people, was waiting for something to happen to him. Death was a fairly momentous happening that forestalled any resistance, so maybe that’s why the prince was being so unusually passive.
Standing over the smaller figure, Raditz felt a twitch of predatory instinct. He had an advantage in this strange place.
He dropped Vegeta’s hand, put his own two on either side of the prince’s face, and kissed him square on the lips.
***
The past and the future must have intersected somehow, because the present moment was as thick and inescapable as the heat rising in Raditz’s belly. Vegeta wasn’t kissing Raditz back, but he wasn’t resisting him either. The skin under Raditz’s hands and lips felt feverishly hot. How long had it been since Raditz had touched something so burning sweet and Saiyan? His tongue pushed apart Vegeta’s lips and tried to coax itself inside.
Vegeta made a low moan of protest or pleasure or both.
And disappeared.
When Raditz opened his eyes, he was cupping nothingness in his hands. A sharp voice behind him made him spin around.
"Raditz!"
It wasn’t Vegeta’s voice but--
"Raditz! Why did you do that?"
--it was Vegeta! Vegeta, six years old, arms crossed, in sparkling armor and little red cape. The cape was so vivid red it looked like it had just come from the wash.
Raditz dropped to his knees, not out of reverence this time but because the shock had knocked his legs out from under him. His erection fell too. His eyes lowered next and waited in dread for whatever shame was to follow. He couldn’t recall anything he had ever done in life to deserve this moment, but he was certain that he did deserve it.
"You’re the stupidest desert rodent who has ever served me!" The boy-Vegeta sounded more annoyed than furious. Raditz wondered if he was angry about the kiss or if this Vegeta even knew that Raditz had kissed him?
"You’re disgusting," the little prince continued. "If the king finds out what you’ve been doing, he’ll fry you to a cinder! I won’t have stupid kitchen girls at my training sessions! Nappa may tolerate this sort of thing, but I don’t. Maybe I shall have Otousama fry him as well!"
A realization was surfacing. The past and the future were mixed up. Yes, Raditz had heard this little speech from the prince before. The time Raditz sneaked a little trollop (the head chef’s niece or cousin?) into the gymnasium to watch the royals spar. She was a fine-boned Saiyan with a brown-red tail, and Raditz had wanted to impress her with his palace access.
"What were you doing to her? It looked like you were sucking her lips off."
Raditz smiled. He couldn’t help it. The memory was too real. It was probably the first kiss the prince had ever seen, and probably (here Raditz lost the smile) the last Saiyan/Saiyan kiss he ever saw as well. Vegetasei blew up only days later.
Prince Vegeta was staring past Raditz, maybe listening to another Raditz’s explanation of twenty years ago. It was such a serious face--but innocent somehow. Alert, intelligent, shiny as molten gold. Had there really been a time when Vegeta washed every day? Army life was so grimy. The prince’s clothes looked so crisp, and the armor was immaculate. The very sight of the red crest of Vegetasei made Raditz’s heart ache; he hadn’t seen it in so long. Then, as Raditz looked, the red mark on the prince’s armor began to blur.
The red began to puddle and pour.
And standing before Raditz again was the adult Vegeta with the mortal wound given to him by Frieza.
A sudden melancholy baritone spoke: "You had no right to do that, Raditz."
This Vegeta was looking right at Raditz, not past him.
"What kind of a freak show is this place?" Raditz exclaimed. He wasn’t morphing into different versions of himself, so why was the prince?
"The last Saiyan alive is battling the destroyer of our people, and all you care about is indulging some sentimental fantasy."
It was the same old same old. The prince was standing there, haughty as hell, and belittling his servant. Only Raditz wasn’t going to stand for it this time--they were dead, goddammit, and hadn’t Vegeta just let himself be kissed by his lowly guard a moment ago?
"You--you let me do it!" sputtered Raditz.
"Shut up, Raditz!" Vegeta crossed his arms right over that oozing mortal wound and seemed to be listening to something in the far distance. "There! It’s Kakkarot! The idiot is wrestling with some primordial guilt. Talk to him, Raditz. You can relate. He’s sorry he ever killed you, and he’s starting to understand what our people suffered."
"He didn’t kill me. It was the big green guy who--"
"SHUT UP!" Vegeta contorted his face into pure wrath. Raditz noticed that one of his eyes was almost swollen shut with bruises and that dried blood caked the corners of his lips. Was that the face he had thought so beautiful only moments ago and kissed with such reverence? And Vegeta’s tail (Raditz was only noticing now because his own tail was twitching in irritation around his waist) was gone. It just wasn’t there anymore. Had Kakkarot cut it off when he battled Vegeta on the planet with the dragonballs?
"Arrrgh!" The growl from Vegeta was so vehement it startled Raditz, and he had heard that growl a million times in life. He knew that look--Vegeta was possessed with an idea and was going to ignore everything else around him until he got his way. Oh no--now Vegeta was stomping in his direction.
"Listen Raditz," Vegeta grabbed Raditz’s arm by the elbow and shook him. The gesture was enough to rattle the larger Saiyan’s teeth in his skull. For a small man who only came up to Raditz’s chin, the prince had tremendous strength. Even here, Raditz feared it.
"You’ve got to talk to Kakkarot," the prince was saying. "I’ve already spoken to him and the fucking rules of this ridiculous place are not letting me do it again. I’ve tried. Look, all you’ve got to do is close your eyes. Concentrate. Forget that you’re a third class and reach out with all the Saiyan power you have. This place lets you do things you could not do in life. Close your eyes--DO IT!"
Raditz’s eyes closed and then popped open again. "What do I tell him if I reach him?"
"When you reach him, Raditz. Tell him to fight like a Saiyan. Tell him that there’s no room in this battle for nonsense like integrity, compassion, fucking feelings." Vegeta was spitting the words. Raditz was amazed that he could feel drops of saliva on his bare arms. Vegeta usually didn’t get this close to him.
Vegeta let Raditz’s elbow go, and Raditz dutifully closed his eyes.
It was hard to concentrate with Vegeta breathing so heavily so close to him (people still breathed when they were dead?), but after a few moments Raditz felt Vegeta’s presence back off.
Kakkarot. Brother. How could it be that the tail-less wonder who had lived all his life on a backwater planet not knowing he was Saiyan--Kakkarot who called himself Goku!--how could it be that this weakling in orange pants who didn’t even have half of Raditz’s power level when Raditz met him--this Goku was fighting Frieza? Something strange and marvelous must have happened to Kakkarot. It was an insane universe, full of all possibilities.
Vegeta was no doubt right, that Raditz could communicate beyond this world if he tried, but the truth was that Raditz didn’t care that much about the living anymore. Apparently Vegeta was still obsessed with avenging their dead planet, and Raditz very much wanted to please Vegeta, but….
Didn’t Vegeta realize the wonderful freedom of being dead? Frieza’s tyranny didn’t reach here….
Kakkarot…. Raditz tried very hard to concentrate on the task of reaching the last living Saiyan, but he was still too in shock over what had happened with Vegeta. The prince was right--he was a sentimental idiot. But was Vegeta just going to forget what happened? Vegeta, Raditz’s heart spoke. Vegeta, we’re free here.
And the landscape changed.
It was the same cloudy whiteness but the feeling was different. No past or present and definitely no access to the living. Raditz was not even aware of having opened his eyes, but he looked down at himself and noticed that he was naked. And all his body’s strains and tensions and fears were simply gone.
Vegeta was standing not far away. His hair looked as if it was wavering underwater. The blood was gone. The bruises were gone. Even (and Raditz noticed this without amazement, for he was too calm to even feel amazed) the dozens of tiny scars that had marred Vegeta’s chest and arms for twenty years, the signature of Frieza’s many tortures, were no longer there. The prince was standing smooth as a statue in a soft stream of light. And the tail was back--floating its elegant length behind the prince’s nude body.
The gods must have answered Raditz’s fantasies.
Raditz wasted no time reaching for his prince and toppling the both of them to some horizontal position on what seemed like (but could not be rightly called) ground. There was no hardness to their impact. Raditz felt like he had fallen on a cloud, and that he and Vegeta were floating in mid-air.
Oh, in the fantasy Raditz had when he was alive, he was gentle with Vegeta. He took his time and licked the length of his torso and lapped at the prince’s nipples as if they were buds that would melt if he took them wholly in his mouth. But here, Raditz could not wait. He took one of Vegeta’s thighs in his large hands (how slim and smooth that thigh was!) and wrapped it around his waist. He bent forward, pressed his cheek against the prince’s cheek, and inhaled deeply. His hand found Vegeta’s cock--it was soft but easily moved to attention with only a few strokes.
"Vegeta…." Raditz whispered the name against the hot face pressed against his and continued to stroke with intensifying passion. Something wasn’t right, but Raditz couldn’t place what. He was too eager to care.
In the fantasy, Raditz was supposed to show Vegeta how to fuck. He knew that the prince’s rightful place was on top, and Raditz was supposed to guide him inside and flip him over--at which point Vegeta would pound his supremacy into Raditz’s soul.
But Vegeta wasn’t responding. Curling one leg around the prince, Raditz urged him to switch sides; he pushed one hand against the small rock-solid ass, tried to incite Vegeta’s cock towards the hole…but Vegeta’s legs were limp and passive.
It was maddening that Vegeta was being this submissive, but Raditz was in a fever of desire. He moved his face to kiss Vegeta; he thrust his tongue into his mouth and at the same plunged into his prince’s body.
Heaven.
Raditz could not move yet. The power and tightness grasping his arousal was excruciatingly sweet. Raditz kissed Vegeta wildly while continuing to pump the ever-hardening organ in his hand.
At last, when it seemed as though it was time for the real ecstasy to begin, Raditz moved his mouth off Vegeta’s. What he heard jolted him.
"Fuck you, Raditz." It wasn’t a declaration of passion--there was venom in the prince’s voice.
Raditz froze mid-stroke. His hand around Vegeta’s burning organ loosened its grip. The gesture made Raditz feel bereft--but even so, his hand kept moving away, rising in slow motion as the realization rose in Raditz’s mind: Vegeta doesn’t want this.
"Why--why aren’t you stopping me?" It was a sincere question, not a teasing remark. Vegeta could toss the larger Saiyan aside as easily as Raditz had bitch-slapped that nubby-horned clerk in the spirit waiting line. Vegeta was the prince; Vegeta still had all his powers here…. didn’t he?
The face that turned to look Raditz in the eye was full of the rage and shame of a lifetime.
Vegeta was still aroused--there was the strain of sex inspiring all his muscles but something else was straining him too. "I can’t move," Vegeta ground out. His teeth were clenched, and it was then that Raditz noticed that Vegeta had been trying to lift his arms the whole while.
Vegeta’s wrists were on either side of his face; they rose from the cloudy whiteness he lay on and then snapped back as if they were bound there. Raditz remembered the resistance the atmosphere had given him when he tried to run to Vegeta. Was this all some sort of cosmic torture?
His eyes met Vegeta’s eyes again.
Vegeta had been bearing him, tolerating Raditz’s dominance with some sort of angry resignation. Vegeta!? But why? How--? And then the look in Vegeta’s face gave him the answer. Vegeta was practiced at bearing it. Frieza had held him down like this and taken him hundreds of times as a child.
"No!" Raditz shouted the word and the same time sank against Vegeta’s hips. The resulting horror and pleasure was so intense that all Raditz could do then was fall against Vegeta’s chest. Raditz was still inside his prince, unable to move, unable to pull out. Vegeta-sama, if you are my heaven, then I am your hell. What grotesque injustice had speared the two Saiyans in this terrible position? Vegeta’s shoulders were still twitching, and Raditz began to tremble--desire weakening arms and legs that were unable to unwrap themselves from around Vegeta.
So much for heaven. There was nothing worse in the universe for Raditz than to be here; the greatest humiliation of his life had been that, as Vegeta’s bodyguard, he had been unable to save the boy from Frieza’s perversions. And now that guilt was made manifest in his own lust for the prince.
So Raditz started to cry. Noiselessly at first. Tears welled, and then his whole face seemed to sting with the pain of not releasing them quickly enough. Then he was sobbing, for the second time since meeting Vegeta in this hell. He cried against Vegeta’s shoulder--the hot flesh there muting the noise but not the shame of it. And when he first felt movement against his aching arousal, he guessed that it was the force of his own pitiful wracking that was jolting his abdomen.
Then he realized that Vegeta’s hips were moving against him of their own accord.
Raditz’s sobs caught in his throat. Maybe Vegeta just wanted to get it over with? It did seem to follow that a sexual release would get them out of this mess.
Raditz lifted his head.
Vegeta wasn’t going to look at Raditz, and he wasn’t going to touch him either. The prince’s hands lay motionless on either side of his face, but then--with stalwart deliberation and a terrible slowness--his legs began to rise around Raditz’s waist. Smooth hard thighs pressed against Raditz’s ribs.
That did it. Raditz was fucking Vegeta back now. Raditz felt the prince’s tail brush his buttocks; the furriness whipped against the crack then flew away. Raditz’s own tail flailed in rhythm to Vegeta’s thrusting hips. Raditz could feel, if not see, the tails thrashing about as the two Saiyans fucked.
And all grief was pushed aside as wild pleasure took over Raditz’s body.
***
Vegeta was growling. A soft guttural sound Raditz had never heard from him before. It was maddeningly sexy and when it stopped, Raditz, who was on the upswing of a thrust, caught the backs of Vegeta’s knees and pushed them higher. The smaller Saiyan was so limber. Raditz easily brought Vegeta’s feet onto his shoulders--feeling a thrill when Vegeta’s heel bumped past the bracelet Raditz wore on his upper arm.
The arc of Raditz’s thrusting was wider now, and he was the only one able to move. Vegeta probably didn’t like this, but Raditz didn’t care. He was pumping away and beyond himself, just wanting release, just wanting it to be finished. He sneaked a glance at Vegeta’s face and saw that the prince’s eyes were closed and his mouth was open.
"Vegeta, oh fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, Vegeta…" was what Raditz chanted in his last moments. He really wanted to tell Vegeta that he loved him, but somehow those words wouldn’t come.
Instead, Raditz came, crying out without restraint. He slid out of Vegeta the second after, still shuddering as he did so. He dropped the prince’s legs to one side and lay his face against Vegeta’s thighs. The prince’s arousal stood, in all its plain wet vulnerability, right before Raditz’s eyes.
Raditz heaved a few breaths, allowed the pinpricks of light before his eyes to dissolve, and then set to work on Vegeta’s erection. "No," groaned Vegeta as soon as Raditz’s mouth touched him. "Stop it. It’s not… ne…necessary…." And the last word turned into a groan.
Raditz had never done this before. In all his years alive in the Saiyan army, in the pleasure arcade of the palace, in Frieza’s army, he had never pleasured a male organ. He had no clue what he was doing, but he’d watched enough whores work their tongues over his own swollen flesh that he figured he could bring Vegeta to orgasm soon. Then the whole strangeness would be over; maybe the gods would be satisfied.
Then maybe the gods would let him kill himself (was that even possible?) and leave this torturous place for true oblivion.
Vegeta tasted spicy. Vegeta’s thighs, as Raditz’s palms wiped across them in long, affectionate gestures, felt burning hot. Raditz was licking, hesitant to take anything in his mouth yet. His tongue swept from the soft sack to the hard shaft with the same persistence as his palms petting Vegeta’s legs.
What slender hips the prince had. How surprisingly small-waisted the man was. Raditz hands stopped at Vegeta’s hipbones, touched the hard protrusions with his thumbs, and then swallowed.
Miraculously, Vegeta’s hands were in Raditz’s hair. Had he lifted his arms? Oh, there was no doubt that Vegeta wanted this. Those smooth dark hips were moving against Raditz’s face, and the pace was slow.
As much as he wanted to relish Vegeta’s enjoyment, Raditz didn’t feel that sexual anymore, and his mouth felt less than comfortable doing what it was doing. He didn’t dare look up at Vegeta, but the growling had started again--and by the sound of it, Vegeta was moving his head from side to side. Raditz tried to quicken the pace but Vegeta’s fingers fisted into his hair. The prince’s strength was irrefutable, and Raditz didn’t move again. Instead, Vegeta’s hips did all the work. They moved with an ease and fluidity Raditz had seen in his fighting style.
The man had wicked grace and stamina. He took forever.
At some point, Raditz’s scalp hurt from Vegeta’s clutching his hair. The entire act was not unpleasant, though. Vegeta’s movements were almost soothing, and Vegeta’s voice was mesmerizing. The sounds he was making were strange--so unlike the sighs and whimpers of women, so deep and feral and yet melodious. The occasional moan followed the liquid motion of his hips.
And when Vegeta released, there was no cry--only an elongated growl. His last spiking thrusts were accompanied by grunts, and the creaminess expelled was so deep in Raditz’s throat that he could not even taste it. He swallowed with an awkward sense of obligation and thought: I would do anything for you.
Raditz dropped Vegeta out of his mouth and stayed there, hiding at the prince’s thigh, expecting either Vegeta’s body or his own to feather away into nothingness and spare them any post-coital confrontation.
***
Vegeta spoke first. "Get off of me," he said.
Raditz’s first thought was that the words were kind; Vegeta could have tossed Raditz’s whole body aside with the hands that were still grasping his hair.
Raditz rose to his knees and shook out his long hair. The long spikes fell against his bare torso like slaps back to consciousness. "I can’t believe we just did that," he said.
"Shut up," said Vegeta and raised himself to his elbows. Raditz thought he had never seen anything lovelier than the nude prince--spent and glossy with sweat--in that languid pose. Vegeta seemed to be annoyed by the adoring look Raditz was giving him. His next words were in his usual imperious tone: "It was nothing. I used you like a whore."
For some reason, the insult wasn’t reaching its intended mark. Raditz felt a little giddy. Hadn’t he just lain down with the Prince of All Saiyans? They still hadn’t risen to their feet yet. The intimacy of the moment was still oppressing rational thought.
But maybe not for Vegeta. The prince had that far-away look again, as if he was listening to audio-feed from a scouter.
"Is it…?" Raditz’s voice was small and hesitant. "Is it Kakkarot?"
"Ssh!"
Vegeta still had one foot in the world of the living, it seemed. What was worse--that world seemed to matter more than the fact that he and Raditz were dead and alone together…. And naked.
Raditz found himself wishing that either his brother or Frieza would just hurry up and kill the other. There was no good reason why this battle was taking so long. Kakkarot had the strength to have lasted this long with the lizard, so obviously he had the power to kill him. It was probably some stupid sentimentality keeping the moron from--
Raditz started at the thought before he formed it. Maybe he and his brother shared some genetic weakness. If that wasn’t true, then the prince lived--scratch that--existed to ridicule the two of them for some true Saiyan character that only seemed like softness because Vegeta was so hard.
Oh, but Vegeta had his soft moments too. Raditz knew that now--he had heard that softness in those liquid moans….
"It’s another fucking dragon!" Vegeta said. "I saw the thing on Namek--this creature can't be the same one!" And then a look of amazement tinged with something like awe crossed Vegeta’s face. It was a look that, until today, Raditz could have said he had never seen on the prince’s face before. But it was the look Vegeta gave right before Raditz kissed him that first time. When Vegeta had turned into his boy self. And Vegeta’s face before that kiss had not looked entirely displeased with the situation. It was as if… as if… the prince could not believe that someone was offering him such a gift? The notion was so unlikely, but Raditz couldn’t help but suppose it.
And then Vegeta’s next words sealed that supposition in Raditz’s mind forever as the truth.
Vegeta turned to look Raditz in the eye and said, "Kakkarot is wishing back all those killed by Frieza."
Raditz only had time to answer that look of surprise in Vegeta’s face with one of his own.
Then Vegeta was gone.
It took a moment for Raditz to understand that this was not another trick of the afterlife. Vegeta simply wasn’t here anymore. He was alive again somewhere. Raditz listened with all his might and reached out with all his will to see if he could sense where, why, anything. But the cloudy atmosphere was still, and the only sound in the universe was the buzzing commotion of his own exhausted feelings deep inside himself.
He almost burst into tears again, but as the emotions began to rise in his throat, one of them--a wild elated feeling over all that had happened with Vegeta--beat the others to assertion on his face.
Raditz smiled a tiny smile.
Good for Vegeta. He was alive again. He would no doubt finish off Frieza.
And as Raditz surveyed the vast blank space around him, he figured that there was nothing else for him to do but find the stupid line again. He had no idea where to start, but heaven knows, he had plenty of time.
Like forever.
END
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Thanks to LisaB, faithful beta, and to Denmark de la Croix, consultant for homosexual stuff.
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