Pure Evil 3: Return of Pure Evil

By Sefiru

Here we go again. I wrote Pure Evil on a whim and didn’t think
it would go anywhere. I wrote Pure Evil 2 and swore it was the last one. And
now this… >.< I should learn when to shut up.

   I am holding a
contest! Anyone who can guess who this story’s main villain is before I post
chapter 7 will get the kink of their choice written into a Pure Evil Omake. A
clue: this character did not appear in the canon, but does logically extend
from the canon.

   Also, I’m working
on an essay about my writing process, and I’d like to know if anyone is
interested in seeing it. Or am I just inflating my own ego?

Anyway, on with the story.

Summary: Kakarott and Vegeta travel to New Namek to wish on
the Dragonballs. But someone else is after the Dragonballs too. Sex! Violence!
Bread machines!

pairings: Kakarott x Vegeta

warnings: NC-17, yaoi, BDSM, violence, language, oral, anal … and of course,
pure evil.

disclaimer: I own nothing, all belongs to Kakarott. Long live the King!

Chapter 1

     Of all the
benefits that come from my relationship with Kakarott, sleeping with him is not
one I would have anticipated. Great food, sparring, sex, yes. But there is
something quietly joyful about waking up in our bed with his arm draped over
me, his breath stirring my hair, the heat of his body against mine. I bask in
his warmth without opening my eyes. Soon he stirs beside me as he wakes up as
well; the first thing he does is lick me on the ear. I open my eyes.

     It’s just before
dawn, and the sky outside our window glows grey and pink. I roll over; Kakarott
is as magnificent as ever, relaxed and glowing with energy from his rest. I
purr and nuzzle his shoulder. His tail curls around my ankle, and then he sits
up. I smirk to myself as he climbs off the bed and stretches. Our house may not
be much of a royal palace, but the views are spectacular. He takes a pair of
orange pants and pulls them on, deliberately waving his tail at me as he
threads it through its opening. “What do you want with your eggs, Vegeta?”

     “Bacon and
mushrooms.”

     “Hmm.” He pads
out to start breakfast; I head into the bathroom for a shower (a cold shower).
A typical morning for us – Kakarott does most of our cooking, since he enjoys
preparing food just as much as he does eating it. That, and I don’t know how.
By the time I get dressed and walk down to the kitchen, two steaming plates of
eggs are on the table: mine with bacon and mushrooms, his with sausage, onions,
peppers and cheese. Besides that there’s a pitcher of fruit juice and a big
basket of rolls fresh from the bread-making robot Bulma gave us as a coronation
present. I take a roll and sit down.

     “So, what’s on
the King of Saiyans’ schedule today?”

     “I have a
private meeting with the King of Earth. Maybe without the rest of Earth’s
leaders there, we can actually get something done.”

     “Hn.” This
planet is in the hands of idiots like Mr. Satan, jealous of Saiyan power and
too cowardly to admit it. Or others who think anyone powerful wants to thrash
them for amusement (wrong, we thrash strong people for amusement). The king of
Earth may look like a blue terrier, but he at least has wisdom and perception,
which is more than the others do.

     “How about you?”

     “I’m teaching
Gohan more spaceship engineering. Just in case.” He’s leaving for New Namek in
a week. “We should be done by lunch.”

     “Spar in the
afternoon, then?”

     “Hn.”

***

     Kakarott
teleported into the King of Earth’s office at ten o’clock exactly. The terrier jumped
at his sudden appearance but immediately relaxed. “Thank you for coming,
Kakarott.”

     “No, thank you,
Ilya.” They never bothered with all the majesty business between themselves. “I
think now we’ll be able to discuss this situation without all the hysterics.”

     “Indeed. Take a
seat, Kakarott. I must say, being King suits you. I never would have guessed
what was lurking inside Goku.”

     “You weren’t
supposed to,” he replied with a chuckle. He leaned back in the sturdy wooden
chair and scratched the back of his neck. “Where should I start? The Saiyan
immigrants are having a hard time adapting to Human laws and customs. And they
have a hard time taking you seriously because you come across as children to
them.”

     “They’re getting
a reputation as barbarians because of it,” Ilya sighed. “And the humans in the
area are scared because the Saiyans are so aggressive, even though the
aggression is never directed at them. Frankly, I don’t know if our two species
are ready to be roommates on the same planet.”

     “Maybe I should
just wish for the Saiyan homeworld back.”

     The terrier’s
ears went straight up. “That would be ideal! And any Saiyan that wanted could
live here and learn about Humans … and vice versa, I hope.”

     “Of course.”
Kakarott considered. “Earth’s Dragonballs are inactive right now, but I could
use the Namek balls; I think this had better be done as soon as possible. Looks
like Vegeta and I are going to tag along on Gohan’s trip.”

     “Please tell me
you’re going to appoint a regent.”

     “Mirai is next
in terms of dominance, so the other Saiyans will listen to him. Don’t be fooled
by his punk attitude, he’s capable.”

     “I’ll take your
word for it.” Ilya rummaged around in his desk and pulled out an envelope.
“Since you’re going to New Namek, perhaps I can ask you to carry this for me.
It’s a proposal to the Namek elders to exchange scholars between our worlds. If
you would extend them the same invitation, it would improve understanding
between all three races. Something that is sorely needed.”

     “That’s true.”
Kakarott took the letter. “This king stuff is a headache. I feel way out of my
depth sometimes.”

     Ilya laughed.
“You’re doing better than you think. How many times have I seen you scratch
your neck, say why don’t you just … and then suggest something that
makes perfect sense and that nobody else had thought of.”

     “Really?” He
wouldn’t even have taken the crown if Vegeta’s father hadn’t made such a
nuisance of himself, but Ilya was right, the job did suit him. He felt like he
was watching over a very large, very unruly family – complete with the whining,
childishness and petty bickering.

     “Really,” Ilya
assured him, flicking his ears back and forth. “You’re much too modest, my
boy.”

     “A modest
Saiyan. Now I’ve heard everything.” They talked a while longer, about the
details of the Saiyan settlement, about technical issues, about the general
business of being Kings. And then around lunch time he left to find the one
Saiyan he never found it a bother to rule.

     Vegeta.
Fate had thrown them together, first as enemies, and he had learned to respect
his strength and mind; later as allies, and he had learned to respect his
heart. He had always understood Vegeta’s actions in a way the other Z fighters
never could, a way only another Saiyan could. Cell. He hadn’t liked it when the
Grand Kai practically blackmailed him into staying in the other world to train
and then forbade him from telling his family why. But he wasn’t worried,
because he knew that Vegeta would watch over them. He’d talked to Gohan
regularly in dreams, so he knew he’d been right.

     Then came Buu.
They fought side by side, died for each other, fused, were restored to life.
Vegeta was the first to see his true personality. He’d been acting on instinct,
finally asserting his rightful dominance. The lust hadn’t been too shocking, as
he’d always thought Vegeta was attractive, but he hadn’t anticipated Vegeta’s
reaction. He’d expected the prince to fight him; he was surprised – and
gratified – by how completely Vegeta had surrendered to him. And it was just
astonishing how an act of trust could turn the prince into a quivering mass of
flesh. Of course he trusted Vegeta. What was so remarkable about that?

***

Kakarott: what do you want for breakfast, Vegeta?

Vegeta: you.

Kakarott: it’s not healthy to eat such rich food in the morning.

Vegeta: but I need my protein …

Next chapter: the adventurers leave for New Namek.
Lemonette.