Adult-FanFiction.org : Gundam, Beyblade, DBZ, FMA

Pure Evil Omake: Shameless	By : sefiru Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2155 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Pure Evil Omake: Shameless
- 1
Pure Evil Omake: Shameless

By Sefiru

As promised: the first of a pair of Omakes
this spring. In this issue, a party and some good old exhibitionism! Kakarott
and Vegeta have a dance.

Warnings: NC-17, yaoi,
exhibitionism

Pairing: Kakarott x Vegeta

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

***

�� Neither I nor
Kakarott have ever actually attended a proper Saiyan
festival. That may be why, on this first anniversary of Vegetasei�s
rebirth and the first such festival in over forty years, our subjects have
pulled out all the stops. All of us are here: the 575 ship-borne Saiyans, 83 newborn babies, the eight, now, of the royal
family, and most of our human and Namek family and
friends, assembled in this one grassy valley. Of course Kakarott has the best
seat: on a platform at one end of the field they have built a throne for him,
carved in wood and just the right size. He sprawls back in it as soon as we
arrive and he looks a sight, in his usual loose pants and boots with an embroidered
vest that leaves his chest bare. All he needs is a mug of beer � which someone
promptly presses into his hand � and he is the perfect portrait of a Saiyan king. He looks over at me. �Where are you going to
sit, Vegeta?�

�� Hn.� There are no other seats
nearby, but remembering my history, I look in the base of the throne. There, as
I expect, is a thick cloth mat; I lay it at his feet, then kneel on it and
throw an arm over his thigh. �How�s this?�

�� I like it.� His
tail brushes along my back. A hush falls over the crowd, and the day�s MC
raises an eyebrow at us; it�s the King�s job to open the festivities. Kakarott
bangs his mug like a gavel. �I declare the first annual anniversary festival
open. Party down!� He drains his beer. A roar goes up from the crowd. A young
man with a keg on his shoulder refills his mug and I flag him down for one of
my own. On our left Goten and Trunks are lounging on
the edge of the platform with cups of what they think is beer. On our right, Gohan, Videl
and their new daughter. You�d never guess that Pan is only a quarter Saiyan; it doesn�t seem to bother Bardock,
who is over there playing with his great-granddaughter. Mirai
is over by one of the snack tables talking to a girl. It�s about time. And
while I haven�t seen my old man yet, I�m sure he�s around somewhere. Even Bulma is here, wearing some kind of belt to deal with the
higher gravity.

�� Saiyans being Saiyans, the
festival is mostly about food, contests, dancing and more food. Several dozen
roasting pits, each housing a huge carcass, line the edge of the grounds, and
tables throughout are loaded with mounds of pastries, fruit and anything that
can possibly be impaled on a stick. Kakarott and I get our share of all of
them, since each contingent sends part of its offering to us in symbolic
tribute. I�m amused to notice that each one includes a card listing the recipe;
word of Kakarott�s hobby has gotten around.
Meanwhile, our own house�s contribution, a barbecued dinosaur, is vanishing
with astonishing speed, especially once Kakarott comments that he made the
sauce with his own hands. It is, after all, a great honor to be fed from the
King�s table �

�� Throughout the day
matches blaze across the field before us; on the ground and in the air,
displays of refined technique and plain grudge matches. Goten
and Trunks fight a Super Saiyan exhibition match. Videl is called out to defend her place as Gohan�s mate and handily trounces all comers. There are
running and flying races, trials of dexterity and ki
manipulation. Kakarott and I watch from our seats and congratulate the winners.
There are no prizes; for us, winning itself is prize enough. A stream of people
wander up to the dais to pay their respects to the King, and Kakarott takes a
moment to speak with each one. I have no doubt he�ll remember them all later.

�� And of course,
there is dancing. Like most things Saiyans do,
dancing is a means to display power. Younger Saiyans
dance to attract mates. Couples dance together to defend their claims. Rivals
dance in opposition, to assert dominance. And it all happens in front of the
throne where the King can see every step. Someone talks the Nameks
into demonstrating one of their dances; I had no idea they even had dances, but
it�s what I would expect from the asexual stringbeans.
Slow, stately, accompanied only by their harmonious chanting,
and totally out of place beside the loud, drum-heavy Saiyan
music. No wonder we used to be at each other�s throats all the time. Later the
Royal Guards take the field and perform a dance that�s more than half drill
routine. Kakarott taps me on the shoulder. �You want to take a turn?�

�� I lick my lips at
the image this invokes. �Bring it on.�

�� Kakarott waves
the MC over and quietly explains what he wants. At the end of the next round,
he announces, �Now the King and Royal Consort will grace us with a dance.� The
crowd falls back, murmuring, as we step off the front of the platform. Kakarott
flicks his tail at the MC and the music starts. An Earth song; the lyrics are
totally wrong, but no one will understand them anyway. The first notes are slow
and drawn out as I chose my starting pose: back to Kakarott, pressed against
his chest, my hands stretched back and clasped behind his neck. The beat starts
up and I move with it, just the tip of my tail at first. I snake it from side
to side at half beat, but with each swing the motion moves higher until by the
start of the first verse my whole body is writhing. Kakarott�s
tail wraps around my leg from thigh to ankle; his lips drop to my neck. His
tongue swirls on my skin in time with the music, with my body, with our tails
roaming everywhere over each other. I can feel the gazes of the audience on us.
I�m hard.

�� I need all of
my concentration to stay at half time. This is not my usual dancing pole behind
me; this is Kakarott, hot and hard and commanding � and he�s not about to just
stand there. The song hits the first chorus and suddenly he�s moving, stepping
neatly sideways. I match him step for step out of sheer instinct bred on the
sparring ground, because my rational mind is not paying attention. He leads me
in a pattern all around the field, now facing him, now
back to him, always with his hands on my skin. Suddenly I am thrown back over
his arm while his other hand runs down my body from to chin to just above my
groin. So close. A few lines later and his leg is
somehow between my thighs. Then he spins me round and the wicked smirk on his
face shows he knows exactly what effect he�s having on me.

�� I smirk right back at him. Look
what I can do to you. But then as the song goes into the last chorus he
clutches me to his chest, grinding his hips into my back. Oh kami � my tail lifts up out of the way and wraps around his
torso; now his shaft presses directly against my cleft.

�� Kakarott laughs
into my ear. �You�re seriously ready for me to take you right here in front of
everybody, aren�t you?�

�� Mmmmm.� That�s the most
intelligent response I can come up with.

�� Maybe I will,�
he continues. I can hear the lust in his voice, he�s
as close as I am. �Maybe next time I�ll throw you on your knees in the dirt.
I�ll rip the clothes off your body. I�ll ream you out with my thick, hot cock.
I�ll hold you down and make you scream until every Saiyan
on the planet knows exactly. Who. Owns
you.� He punctuates his last words with sharp nips to my neck. Then he
shoves me back against his hips; the pressure in front and behind is more than
enough to send me over. Kakarott�s growl of
completion echoes in my ears.

�� He turns me around
for a deep kiss, and his mouth is full of his own seed. I�m distantly impressed
that he can teleport so accurately right after his own
orgasm. Whatever; I drink it eagerly from him as the music fades into silence.
The audience stands stunned � strong as we are,
Kakarott and I rarely display our power, and never quite like this. And only Saiyans would have the reaction that follows: they kneel,
every single one of them. I know they want to be in my place, but they never
will. Kakarott chuckles as we step back to our seats. After I kneel on my claim
mat he stands in front of his throne and savors the moment: the entire Saiyan nation, to a man, is at his feet. He�s that good, and he�s mine. He smiles at the MC, who practically grovels before him in
return. �Continue the dancing.�

�� Yes, my king.�
The crowd slowly rises, and then there�s a rush for the dancing ground. It�s
mostly young females, with a handful of males for good measure. Good luck,
kids. Kakarott scratches my ears and I nuzzle his thigh. �How are you feeling?�

�� Just great. But my pants are all sticky now.�

�� You could always
take them off.�

�� Good idea.� I strip
off my clothes, stow them in the cavity under the throne, and return to my
place buck naked save for my collar. I leer up at him. �Now what can I do to
convince you to fuck me senseless tonight?�

�� That shouldn�t
be too hard.�

�� It�s hard
already, look.� He laughs. Other eyes are still on us, although there�s a
sudden absence of couples. Working off their hormones,
probably. Even Gohan and Videl
have slipped off; Pan is playing with Goten and
Trunks, and Bardock is checking out my ass. Like
father, like son. Bulma is red in the face and I
can�t tell if it�s lust or embarrassment. ��

�� My view of the
dance ground is blocked by a figure standing in front of us. I look up. �Oh.
What are you doing here, old man?�

�� He glowers at me.
�Have you no shame? How could any son of mine let himself be reduced to � to ��

�� To what? The Royal Consort? The Grand Martial? The second most
powerful being in the universe?�

�� You�re a naked
slave in a collar!�

�� You say that
like it�s a bad thing.�

�� The old man grits
his teeth. �You�re being awfully quiet, my � hrrmph.�

�� If Vegeta wants
my help he�ll ask for it,� Kakarott says mildly.

�� A feline grin
spreads across my face. My father must be burning with jealousy; he could never
command that much devotion from our people, the stingy rat. And he never
claimed anyone or had an official consort, or even much of a harem. And he has
certainly never had anyone lay everything they value in his hands for him to
keep safe. �You�re proud of this,� he accuses me.

�� Damn straight I
am. I�m a legendary Super Saiyan, I have more power than I know what to do with. I have a
family, a home, and a mate who trusts me absolutely. Stand there and tell me if
you dare, Father: what do I have to be ashamed of?�

***

Let the record show that Kakarott knows the Tango.

And the music they�re dancing to is Cher�s �Do you
believe.� Hence the comment about inappropriate lyrics.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Pure Evil Omake: Shameless