A PRINCE AND HIS WARRIOR

Drabblish

Tue, 02 Dec 2008 00:06:31 GMT

Disclaimer: I don’t own Dragonball and neither the characters included on this work. This is a work of fiction with no intent to make money of it. The creator of the characters is A.Toriyama.

Warning: Homoerotic stuff, semeVegetaxuke!Goku (my habitual) Un-betaed ( I could play the card of the ’don’t be harsh, ’cause not my native tongue, blhablahblah, but I admit -rather shamelessly- it was written in a rush ^^;

AN: This was written mostly with therapeutic purposes, to take my mind from ugly stuff. XD It’s Vegeta’s P.O.V about some of -in his opinion- Goku’s more alluring traits. Some are fluffy; some are a bit kinky or naughty. Some are very Vegeta, though. Or so I think. Comments will be appreciated. ^^;

(I’ve been working on a lot of stuff lately but never get to finish anything, just a fic that will be posted as soon as my beta-reader can work on it -next Saturday- In the meantime, if someone is interested on knowing what it’s about, I put a rather long excerpt on my DA page, I think it’s worthy to take a look at even if it’s a provisional version, if someone wants the link e-mail me to xxtyranaxx@hotmail.com

GOKU’S TOP TEN THAT TURN VEGETA ON

Innocent

How is it possible for Kakarot’s soul to remain pure and intact after all the evil he has met and all the blood he has shed?

Like weeds, his innocence grows and spread under the most adverse conditions. Unruly. Indestructible. I quit on trying to rip it off long ago. Gardening was never my forte, either way.

Cheerful

Kakarot looks always so annoyingly happy and overjoyed it makes me want to puke and beat his face to a bloody pulp to erase that stupid grin of his.

Why is it then that when he greets me with a gentle smile my heart melts and I forget that there was a time I hated the man with passion?

Virgin

Kakarot is a virgin in oh so many senses.

Or at least he was.

I have taken sadistic pleasure in deflowering him in all of the possible ways.

Strongest

I did admit that Kakarot’s is the strongest Saiyan and made peace with it, even if it left a sour taste on my mouth.

However, when he clenches so tightly, so beautifully around me and milks me dry with all his force, I chant inside giving thanks to all deities for making him so powerful

Eyes

Kakarot’s eyes are large as life itself, as his heart. Hope puts sparkles that gleam like gems in the night of his pupils -in this, he is like no other Saiyan.

And when you look into them, you know you are lost. Serene lagoons where to get drowned and never care because you know it is home there.

Durable

It is amazing, even for a Saiyan, all the hard pounding Kakarot can take.

And if you could see the smirk on my face, you would realize I am not talking about fighting.

Baggy pants

As much as I loathe Kakarot’s inexistent sense of fashion, I would not have him in any other way than clad in that hideous gi of him. It hides to the rest of the world his scrumptious ass.

I am the only invitee for that banquet. I will, by no means, allow having dozens of mongrels lusting after him and salivating like Pavlov’s dogs.

Messiah

Kakarot is a man of strong convictions, of unwavering faith in human kind.

He is so idiot to believe that goodness exists even in the blackest hearts. That love is the salvation of the universe, its only motor and the ultimate weapon against all evil. That even the most abject of the demons can be redeemed and released from their murky depths back into the light.

The fool.

And he makes this assertion with such determination, wrapped in this resplendent light that emanates from his aura, that you can but believe him.

I am living proof of it.

And you leave everything behind to make of him the purpose of your life, because you know in the bottom of your heart that there is no chance to find a better alternative.

Of it, I have no regrets.

Looks

To say that Kakarot is beautiful must be the understatement of the century. Damn, the man is pure perfection. I even got to such extents as to offer him the universe served on a silver tray, right when I saw him, in his entire radiant splendor. (In my discharge I can only say, the sight took my breath away and the lack of oxygen in my brain impaired my common sense.)

Figures, who could have thought that was my weak spot?

Unscathed

I have explored and worship every crease, valley and cleft of Kakarot’s geography with all my senses; with my eyes, hands and mouth; with my whole body. No scar, no imperfection marring the soft pallor of his skin. No trace of the many battles he has fought, of the wounds he has suffered, of the hits he had taken.

One could never guess, lost in the fragrant expanse that is Kakarot’s skin, the man to be a perfect warrior, a killing machine when needed.

I firmly believe his heart and soul remain equally unscathed.

O.O .

NEW FIC

Mon, 01 Dec 2008 11:01:43 GMT

I have a new fic, but it's too long to submit it here in just one post and it wouldn't make sense to cut it in two bits. So I will post here the link where to read it. I've worked very hard on this one and I think it's my best up to now, but I would like to know what you really think about it, it would help me out a big deal. You can find it here:

anime2.adultfanfiction.net/story.php

I need all the advice you can give me. Thanks ^.^

One more...

Thu, 23 Oct 2008 05:35:51 GMT

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MORE DOODLES

Thu, 23 Oct 2008 05:33:03 GMT

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A VegexGoku tale on emoticons

Sat, 20 Sep 2008 05:27:52 GMT

http://dbtyrana.deviantart.com/journal/10004943/#comments

Drabble-defining Vegeta

Tue, 16 Sep 2008 04:03:32 GMT

-Goku drabble-defining Vegeta-

A/N: Drabble. Goku defines Vegeta and their relationship through the prince's more significant and remarkable traits/features/characteristics.

It' still unbeta-ed but I made some edit and altered slightly the original version, in case some of you have read this on other sites.

Word count: 396

Warnings: Some fluffiness.

Disclaimer: Vegeta and Goku are intellectual property of A.Toriyama

GLOVES

By Tyrana

Goku P.O.V

Gloves, impeccably white and pristine like the first light of morning; a token, a trademark of my prince.

Always on when he fights, inseparable companions. It is impossible to picture him without them. Ubiquitous. Permanent. So intimately bound to the man that have become part of him like a second skin.

And you cannot but wonder.

The first time he kissed me…I swooned, intoxicated with his taste.

And fainted.

And begged for more…

Then, still in a haze -my heart fluttering and my whole body trembling- I got lost myself in his look of possessiveness. His hand cupped my chin anchoring me to reality. He whispered my name with desire, in such a sultry tone that all I could do not to die right there was to ask him why he always wore his gloves on.

“Scum is unworthy of being graced by a prince’s touch.” Smugly as ever, he smirked.

Then he did the unexpected. He pulled his glove off to lay the palm of his bare hand on my face!

His hand is incredibly soft, almost gentle; yet abrasive in its steadfastness, assertive as it claims you with its touch.

Hitherto, I had felt but the brutality and accuracy of its blows.

But that day, with the same intense passion and keenness, it only delivered soft caresses. Sheer bliss.

Avid to make a claim of its own, his other hand glided down my lower back to firmly grab my buttock; pulling me closer against him.

With expert touches, he took me into a maddening descent to the scalding pits of hell and I savored for the first time the delicate bouquet of forbidden delights.

I moaned wantonly, in total abandon, reveling in the hungry fire dancing wildly in the depths of his smoldering irises; my pliant body eagerly yielding to his carnal desire as his hips bucked and rolled into mine.

Then he boosted me to the highest summits of heaven -The moment his thumb began tracing languid circles over my flushed cheek, a strange joy filled me up, knotting my throat.

And I wanted to cry and laugh all in once, suddenly struck by the enormity of such a meaningful gesture from my prince.

I leaned on his warmness, ecstatic, as a single tear trailed down my cheek.

That day I knew for the first time what true love means.

~*~

MY ANIMATED ID

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:47:59 GMT

I SUPPORT

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:41:44 GMT

VEGETAxGOKU ANIMATION

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:35:53 GMT

I made this one long while ago :D

UGLY ME!

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:30:11 GMT

My clothes here are a horror. I had traveled to Chile to atend to a wedding; it was Christmas eve there, summer (south hemisphere) and it was absurdly hot and I didn't take with me any summer clothes so someone lend me theirs lol...

LOST CHILD. Chapter Two. Part Three

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:14:45 GMT

LOST CHILD

CHAPTER TWO. PART THREE

The prince felt queasy all of sudden, not pleased in the least with the newest turn of events. The exchange between the two brothers had been fairly entertaining, Vegeta admitted to himself. Which it was in itself rather strange, considering he had a very low patience threshold and zero tolerance toward foolery. But the glint of amusement swiftly faded out from his pupils for it was not fun anymore, Vegeta decided morosely the very moment Nappa’s filthy hands had profaned the boy‘s skin.

The prince could feel his blood pumping furiously in his temples and a weird knot looping and swelling up in his stomach. However, concealing his slightly agitated condition beneath an unfathomable expression, he stood frozen to the spot, unable to intrude while watching in morbid fascination Kakarot‘s fruitless attempts to get rid of his molester.

But then Nappa swirled his tongue around the curve of Kakarot’s ear and Vegeta noticed, horrified, that he was growling, overcome by a sudden wave of jealousy. Much to his relief, the ruckus around was considerable enough to quickly swallow the low rumble in his throat. But that did not make the situation less disturbing.

Certainly he was physically attracted to Kakarot; the surge of desire had been as predictable as imminent the exact moment his dark hues met the boy’s good-looks. No qualms about that. Heck, the day he would not entertain the thought of wild sweaty sex at the sight of a fine piece of ass either he would be rotten in hell or the world would have come to its end, whichever would come first.

What had been unnatural, utterly unexpected and definitively senseless, was that consuming thought that had assaulted him from out of the blue, hammering repeatedly in his head: ’Someone is touching what’s rightfully- and only- mine’. As if he had any claim on the boy.

A frown darkened his features as he shielded himself behind the delusory veil of denial. His response had been provoked by his acute sense of duty, Vegeta mentally affirmed; after all, he had been entitled as Kakarot’s protector…Raising a derisive eyebrow, he dismissed the idea as soon as it sprouted up within his mind. Whom was he trying to deceive with such a lame excuse? The overtones of possessiveness contained in his growl had been unmistakable: his reaction had not been a calculated, logic and measured one; but primal, visceral, pure instinct surging right from the guts.

His eyes dropped down to fix a murderous glare onto the soil, as if the verdant sheet beneath his feet were the sole perpetrator of his aggravation. His somber frown deepened as he desperately sought for answers into himself. Perhaps it had just been the hotness of this damned place what had inflamed him in the first place, he concluded.

Had they met under different circumstances, he most likely would not even have spared a single look at the boy…All right, not quite the truth, he conceded skeptically elevating an eyebrow. Such beauty was like a magnet for the eyes. But he almost had the certainty that his response had been exaggerated and magnified because of the suffocating ambiance…Or maybe not?

Shaking the unsettling musings from his head, Vegeta raised his head to glance up. When his eyes landed on Kakarot the pang of jealousy struck again, this time more sharply, wrecking havoc throughout his whole self and he had to resort to every last ounce of self-control in order to refrain himself from grunting and to maintain a neutral expression altogether.

Whilst Vegeta was inwardly engaged in this virtual duel against the green-eyed monster and his inner demons, Kakarot was grappling with a very tangible rival.

Confronted with the realization that his captor was impervious to the unremitting rain of kicks thrown at him, the younger saiyan opted to change tactics. Hence, he turned is head to one side, that way he had better access to one of the giant’s upper-arms; and bite into the hardened flesh furiously, like a rabid wolf. So thick was the fuzzy epidermis that teeth proved unable to tear the tissues, yet the intense force of those clamped jaws was harmful enough to make the bulky Saiyan yowl and loosen his grip.

“Fucking mongrel…” Nappa barked, grimacing and shaking the wounded arm.

Kakarot dropped onto the ground erupting in a string of guttural sounds, (in all likelihood, his version of a colorful imprecation), but before he could scurry off, huge hands clutched roughly his supple waist and turned him around. A strangled, shocked yell escaped him as he was drawn back against that immense mountain of steel muscles.

Nappa brought him closer, crushing him against his torso; his overpowering stench immediately surrounded and encased Kakarot more brutally and painfully than his arms did, making him dizzy and sick with nausea. Huffing and wrinkling his nose in disgust, the younger Saiyan thrust his head backward, placing steady flat palms against Nappa’s chest; but with their bodies pressed so closely together it became impossible to get the necessary leverage to shove the stinky Saiyan off.

“I don’t think so, daddy is going to give the bad, bad little monkey a corrective.” So saying, Nappa ran his tongue across his lips and slid his hands down Kakarot’s hips to grope that perfect derriere, marring flawless ivory skin with the red imprint left by his fingers. Finally taking hold of the taut globes, Nappa lifted up the boy a little and pulled him roughly into his bulging crotch.

Meanwhile Raditz, totally recomposed from his distressing capillary episode and taking notice of the ordeal his brother was undergoing, immediately leapt forward to confront the overexcited giant.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Raditz shouted out angrily, fists clenched at his sides, as Kakarot, without enough space to other than whining, squirming and occasionally punching at Nappa‘s torso, unsuccessfully strove to wriggle free. But, quite obviously, all his struggle only helped to arouse even more the over-muscled Saiyan, who was emitting small grunts of pleasure as he grinded his groin against that warm, quivering body; completely deaf to the screeches of both brothers.

But there reached Nappa’s ears a distinctive, eerie sound that his instinctual sense of self-protection would not allow him to disregard to: a rumbling and menacing growl erupting from Vegeta‘s throat. The prince had finally succumbed to his animalistic inclinations and was determined to gain the prey.

Nappa pivoted his head in the general direction where the growl had come from and, as soon as Vegeta appeared in his line of vision, he swallowed thickly, feeling his throat suddenly too dry and jagged. The prince bore an eerie resemblance to a dangerous beast hungry for blood: His eyes blazed with rage, his regal features appeared darkened by a feral expression and all the muscles of his body were tense, ready to attack. But before anybody else could react, Kakarot -albeit still tightly cramped- used his tail as a whipping flog. A sharp ‘swoosh’ cutting through the air was the only warning Nappa got before that iron-like appendage landed violently on his face.

With a loud howl of pain that echoed throughout the jungle for miles around, Nappa released his prisoner; his right hand raising to rub the scarlet welt on his stinging cheek. Taking advantage of Nappa’s distraction, the boy lunged at him with practically immeasurable velocity making sure to aim at the mid-section of his adversary. Kakarot’s shoulder smashed violently into Nappa’s abdomen and the bulky Saiyan, holding his stomach, collapsed onto the green-matted ground with a resounding thump.

For interminable moments, Nappa lay on his back gaping with incredulity, eyes bulging out of their sockets. It was difficult to assume what had just happened. He, one of the strongest warriors, outsmarted by a lower and weaker opponent, an ignorant kid. The thought reeled over and over within his stunned mind making his blood boil with incipient, yet growing anger. But he stayed petrified until he heard, distantly, the chuckles from Raditz and the sneering accents in Vegeta’s voice- The prince had uttered a scornful remark, something like ‘It serves you right for letting your guard down’ -And that had sufficed to dissipate his haziness.

Suddenly imbued with purpose, Nappa jolted to a sitting position, slanting a murderous look up at the boy. In return, Kakarot shot him a disdainful glare through narrowed eyes and, with a swaggering air, lashed his tail twice as a warning before turning heels, feeling very proud of himself.

Had not been so infuriated, Nappa would have laughed with gusto at Kakarot’s pretension to intimidate a seasoned and ruthless warrior with such naïve braggadocio. But at the moment, the predominant emotion storming through his system was a blind and consuming rage claiming for fair retribution. He had been humiliated, disgraced. And in the presence of the prince of all people. He would ensure that the whelp would pay for such insolence.

“You little weasel…” Nappa mumbled spitefully through gritted teeth as he lifted to one knee. His eyes blazed with contempt, ire and a hint of madness; the throbbing veins on his neck had acquired a dark purple tinge and his curled fists were quivering in anticipation.

But the abrasive voice of the prince froze him in his tracks. “If you touch him I will rip your heart out.“ The awful threat was expressed with strangely quiet and restrained manners, but at the same time with a fiercely possessive tone and such uncanny coldness that Nappa could envision for a dreadful instant one of the prince’s hand sunk into his chest clutching his still throbbing heart and a maniac laughter resounding as ceaseless torrents of blood spurted out from the gash bathing the whole world in crimson.

An icy wind swept up Nappa’s spine as he staggered inelegantly upon his feet. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head vigorously in an attempt to jar the gory image from his memory but his rage had not subsided completely and he cast ominous eyes upon Kakarot. If not for Vegeta, he would have pounced on the cheeky runt to have his way with him after beating him into a bloody pulp. But now the brat was there with his back arrogantly turned to him, taunting him and spitting at him his derision with the boisterous movements of his tail. Nappa glowered, mentally cursing the boy, he had no need to see his face to visualize the smug expression Kakarot, he was certain of it, was sporting.

Nappa dug furious nails deep into the callous flesh of his palms, but he remained unaware of it until some droplets of blood began seeping out. He uncurled his fists and, grunting, fixed steel eyes on the crimson spread onto his extended hands. Hatred permeated his whole self, making him forget for just a moment his recent surge of fear and he ventured a step forward in the direction of the boy, but he came to a brusque halt right after sensing a nearly imperceptible tremor under his feet and a gust of shimmering air flickering over his skin.

The phenomenon was, by no means, new to him. Thick beads of cold sweat sprouted on his forehead and his heart raced with trepidation. His head whipped to the right on its own accord and he gasped as his panic-stricken eyes fell upon the regal figure: Vegeta was gathering his energy in order to power up; his vicious stare glowing through his fluctuating aura sent shivers up Nappa’s spine. The message was clear: The smaller Saiyan was ready to carry out his threat at the slightest evidence of mutiny.

Gulping the lump in his throat, Nappa retreated few steps back very quietly and lowered his chin in submission while trying to blink his frustration off.

Other, differing, were the emotions raging through Kakarot. When the immense, stunning energy irradiated by Vegeta washed over him, he became breathless, paralyzed, beholding in an enraptured sort of trance the display of crystal blue flashing and sparkling around the majestic silhouette of the prince. Then Vegeta, reverting to his normal level, had looked in his direction. Time seemed to stand still for a fleeting instant when his innocence-filled eyes met the prince’s smoldering ebony orbs and a turmoil of foreign, incomprehensive emotions overwhelmed him, making his blood boil, his skin tingle and his tail puff and swing erratically.

A predatory smirk curled Vegeta’s lips when the younger Saiyan, as if impelled by an invisible force, began sauntering with unwary treads toward him excitedly.

Overcome by an intense sense of anticipation, Kakarot felt his heart leaping wildly against his ribcage and his breath becoming gradually more agitated with each step ahead. But in his long isolation from other rational beings, he had never experienced, until the present, other emotions than the basics and he was oblivious to what was really transpiring.

Vegeta, on the contrary, was submerged in the very core of blazing awareness, perceiving with striking keenness the subtle tremors of his own body, the fire burning in his loins, every single drop of perspiration trickling down his feverish skin and the wet trail his own tongue was tracing on his lips while his ravenous eyes feasted upon his clueless prey.

As Kakarot closed the diminutive gap between them, Vegeta realized mystified, that he was basking in a myriad of details about the boy he usually would not pay any heed at. Like the way the sunbeams highlighted in golden the boy’s silhouette enhancing his enticing curves. The liquid gracefulness of his movements, so smooth and melodious, pure music in motion. The sensuous sway of his supple waist…Vegeta licked his lips once more with lustful intention, his garments suddenly seeming unbearably restraining.

But his fascination was not only limited to the exotic looks of the boy, Vegeta bemusedly admitted; it went beyond physical appearance. After all, Saiyajins were gifted with spectacular bodies and he had lost account of the plethora of pretty boys he had taken. Granted, Kakarot’s beauty surpassed all of the others together. But there was something else; something intangible, indescribable; certain quality about his aura that no other Saiyan possessed; the clarity, the pureness it irradiated, so overwhelming that, even deprived from his senses, blind and deaf to the world, Vegeta still would be able to recognize it, washing over his skin in its blazing glory.

All these musings got derailed from Vegeta’s mind when the boy halted right in front of him. They both stood motionless, shrouded by a dreamlike quietness for what it seemed an eternity. The shine of Kakarot’s soulful eyes grew more vivid as his gaze strived to dive into the fathomless orbs of the prince and one of his hands ventured up to trace shyly, with tremulous fingertips the side of Vegeta’s face to finally lay, ever so gently, on the cheek.

Vegeta twitched imperceptibly at the touch, The hand upon his face was slightly tough and calloused, but warm and gentle. He blinked once, it was unusual of him to permit anybody to take such liberties with his persona, but there he was, not only allowing it, moreover, actually enjoying the pleasant sensation. After a short while, he felt that hand trembling faintly and he looked intently into the boy’s eyes. Vegeta recognized, sparkling deep within those pupils hesitation, a need of reassurance and a mute plea for guidance.

Kakarot was lost, unsure of what his next move should be but no indication came from the prince, only a smug smirk. At that, the younger Saiyan blinked and, still uncertain, took a last step forward, getting so close that their heated breath mingled sending small shivers across their faces.

A little voice in the back of Vegeta’s head whispered in alarm that he should be outraged at that intrusion of his personal space but that young body was the source of an arousing warmth difficult to resist in such close proximity. And besides, Kakarot smelled so damn good; like fresh herbs, berries and a touch of wild flowers, as if the full flora of the jungle had left its imprint on his skin. But what made the mixture terribly enticing, almost irresistible were those underlying, subtle nuances, sweet and sensual, that constituted the genuine and distinctive essence of the boy.

With that inebriating scent teasing so mercilessly his senses it was difficult to think straight, to remember his duty, his oath; he had promised to retrieve Kakarot sound and safe. Vegeta made a considerable effort to fight that sudden and growing itch, that clamor raising from each fiber of his being urging him to pounce on the boy and ravish him for all he was worth. Yet, he remained, at least outwardly, unfazed; his posture rigid, arms steadfastly crossed across his chest and his expression vacant, feigning utter indifference.

At that resolve, the protest of his denied body erupted in the form of an angry grunt which Kakarot mistook as plain rejection, a signal of discouragement. Thus, with downcast gaze, the adolescent removed his hand from the prince’s face and shrank one step back; his tail hanging limp behind him despondently, emphasizing his sulking mood.

But Kakarot’s scent was becoming more intense with every passing second, overloading Vegeta’s senses and awakening something animal inside; a tidal wave of desire surged from his groin and flooded his veins like molten lava making his body ache and burn, and leisurely fogging over his reasoning. His hands rose by their own volition to take a hold of Kakarot’s hips to draw him closer. On which, Kakarot emitted a feeble squeal of surprise, but otherwise he seemed fairly pleased and, with eyes humid of excitation, snuggled against Vegeta’s body, waiting, longing for something but without having the slightest clue of what could actually be.

For a brief instant, lucidity flickered across Vegeta’s skull and he stood motionless frowning and gritting his teeth, infuriated at his weakness, at the way his body was betraying him. He was conscious that he should collect himself back and put an end to all this nonsensical folly. But his determination began to crumble when he sensed the tip of Kakarot’s nose brushing along his neck. The boy was inhaling deeply, taking in Vegeta’s masculine scent and his faint moans of approval and the warmth of his slow breathing against his fevered skin made blood pump furiously through Vegeta’s body, rekindling the flames of his need. The prince blindly thrust his hips forward, slamming his arousal against the inviting body before him. At the contact, a jolt of electricity roared along his spine and he exploded in a feral howl of pleasure.

Kakarot was feeling all cozy and relaxed with his torso nestled against that powerful body and his head buried on the crook of Vegeta’s neck. The spicy musk leaking out of the prince’s every pore was like a strong wine, as inebriating, making him lightheaded. He began to murmur incoherently against the feverish skin of his partner; tail wagging idly behind him. But suddenly he stiffened, a violent impact against his groin tearing a loud yelp of pain from his throat. A hurt look flashed across those innocent features for a brief instant before Vegeta, with his crotch practically glued to Kakarot’s, began to rotate his pelvis in a slow yet rough way.

Kakarot widened surprised eyes, all the air rushing out of his lungs in a blissful gasp as a light spasm shook his body. Since these intruders irrupted into his realm he had experienced an array of sensations completely new to him, not all of them pleasant whatsoever, but this mind-blowing friction was too good to be true. Despite the growing dizziness pervading his wits, he took a second to rummage through his memories trying to find packed there something akin to this feeling, but to no avail. Not even the fresh caress of the cool water over his skin whenever he dove into the river, nor the perfumed breeze sweeping over his body while he wildly flung from tree to tree had ever left him so shaken and at the same time so restless and disconcerted; even the explosion of the sweet and sensual flavor of berries over his taste buds, -until the present the greatest of his pleasures- was dull, insipid in comparison. He promptly pushed these considerations to the back of his head and, moaning, let himself get consumed by searing passion. But in a heartbeat, all motion ceased causing all those exquisite sensations to vanish.

Vegeta drew back his hips a little as his hands abandoned momentarily Kakarot’s rump. The younger Saiyan groaned at the loss and snapped open questioning eyes -glowering eyes full of recrimination- his lips puckered in a charming pout. The sight was adorable enough to melt a tender heart, but bad luck, there was none nearby. The prince grunted but otherwise, undeterred, he just offered a wicked smirk in return.

True enough, Vegeta was aching too for more of that maddening contact yet he still retained a little amount of self-control to resist, at least for the time being, the primal urges of his demanding body. At the rate things were going, he knew he would not last much longer and he did not want to cream his pants right there while blindingly thrusting like an uncontrolled animal. He wanted first to cherish and savor the charms of the boy and in order to do so, he removed the gloves from his hands, tossing them onto the ground, and took hold of Kakarot’s waist.

Vegeta closed his eyes and sighed, letting his hands languidly roam up and down the curve of the boy’s slender hips, loving the feel of the vast smoothness that was Kakarot’s skin trembling under his expert touch, relishing in the hotness and moistness he found there.

At the tantalizing caresses, a tiny smile graced Kakarot’s flushed visage, and desire burnt again in the depths of his pupils. He rose his hands to place them on the prince’s upper arms and, resting his cheekbone on Vegeta’s shoulder, snuggled his acquiescent body against the warmness of his counterpart.

The boy was so responsive that Vegeta felt another surge of lust storming through his body and his arousal quivered painfully within its suffocating confines. Releasing a long, raspy breath, he jerked the younger saiyan closer until their hips were crushed into each other; but making an effort to ignore the consuming fire burning fiercely in his loins, he encircled Kakarot’s torso in a loose embrace and allowed his eager hands to explore the muscled expanse of the boy’s back.

Vegeta traced each curve and crease of toned shoulder blades slowly, ever so slowly with feathery brushes. But soon, encouraged by the soft moans coming from Kakarot, his questing fingers grew more hungry for that satiny skin and his strokes became more intense, even rough, as his hands descended toward Kakarot‘s lower back, kneading and squeezing unmercifully into hot flesh; his actions rewarded with a few whimpers that sounded strained and almost desperate.

Vegeta marveled at how sensitive Kakarot was. ‘He had never been held nor caressed,’ a voice in Vegeta’s head countered, ‘without even knowing it, he had been starving for any contact with his kind all his life. Too much time deprived…Now you set a feast for him alone and he is not able to restrain himself any longer…’

His hands sailed along Kakarot’s back a few more times, as he fantasized over the response he would earn when matters would start to get more ’serious’. He could barely believe his good luck, the boy was so deliciously vocal. Was Kakarot even conscious of how erotic all his reactions, all those noises were? Obviously not, which inflamed all the more Vegeta‘s desire. His mouth was almost watering as his mind reeled with exciting images of Kakarot writhing beneath him, emitting all kind of throaty sounds. ‘Oh, yes, this is going to be memorable,’ he chortled evilly before letting out a feral groan.

Then, moistening his lips, Vegeta paused to take a look at his wanton prey and the sight was beyond satisfying; the reckless abandon painted in rosy tones over the bridge of his perfect nose, the parted lips swollen with need and promise, the half-lidded eyes, unfocused and smoky… whichever sentience left in the boy thus far seemed to be seeping out through the chinks of his tattered will at an alarming rate. Yet, an exasperated whine attested that Kakarot was utterly aware of the suddenly motionless hands laying on his ribs. The prince curled the corner of his mouth into a wild smirk when the younger saiyan, clinging to his shoulders, rubbed his entire body against him, begging, trying to coax him to continue his tormenting onslaught.

With a chuckle, Vegeta obliged; this time trying something new. One of his hands continued stroking the boy’s hip while the other glided teasingly over his spine, deft fingers tracing patterns of liquid fire underneath Kakarot’s tingling skin. Sounds halfway between mews of pleasure and guttural hisses escaped the younger saiyan’s mouth as the tip of an inquisitive tongue flickered over the curve of his neck scarcely touching the skin.

Vegeta had not really intended to taste the younger male, only to see his reaction; but when the intense sugary flavor exploded across his taste buds, he could feel Kakarot’s light tremor rippling along his tongue in sync with his own shudder. Only a ghostly sample of the boy and he had already become addicted. His dizziness intensified tenfold and the fire between his legs was now beyond excruciating. But obstinately gripping the sparse shreds of self-control he still retained, Vegeta removed his hand from the boy’s hip to place it on his nape, massaging the zone with small circular motions while his other hand continued teasing the spine; blunt nails raking up and down the sensitive line, deliberately avoiding the puffy tail that seemed to have acquired a life of its own and was engaged in a spasmodic sort of dance.

Now that he had Kakarot squirming into his arms and erupting incessantly in small whimpering sounds, Vegeta allowed himself to indulge in his increasing craving for the boy’s taste. Burrowing his tongue into Kakarot’s neck, he took a mere second to breath deeply in the arousing fragrance the boy exuded before lapping with intensity and yet premeditated indolence the whole length of it, from the firm jaw line to the base and up again, making a small detour across the delicate underside of his chin. Kakarot’s flavor was a perfectly harmonized blend of sweet and slightly salty overtones with the barest hint of vanilla; Vegeta moaned softly, he could certainly devour to the last inch of such scrumptious flesh.

So lost Vegeta was in his counterpart’s taste and feel, that it took him a while to register the soft meows drifting to his ears. He cackled against Kakarot‘s skin without pausing in his humid ministrations. Then, with a sinister gleam in his eyes, he swirled his tongue over that sensitive spot right behind Kakarot’s ear, relishing in the tingling he noticed there, before moving to graze and nip very gently along the shell of the ear, paying special attention to the tender lobe, which provoked a delightful whine from the writhing boy.

Some instants later, Vegeta let go the abused earlobe and moved his hand from the base of Kakarot’s skull to the small of his back, brushing his thumb over the spot, a tad coarsely, in languorous circles. With high-pitched moans, Kakarot threw his head back exposing his throat. It looked so deliciously irresistible, all that alabaster skin covered by a thin sheet of pearly sweat, throbbing with the pulse of life, beseeching to be ravaged that Vegeta could not help the predatory glint that flashed across his eyes. He licked all the way down, looping teasingly around the Adam’s apple before traveling downwards, pausing at the hollow just above the sternum where he started to suckle at unrelenting rhythm. Heaving a loud gasp, Kakarot arched his upper body slightly and his fingers curled frantically around Vegeta’s shoulders as the man continued tormenting him with perverse mouth and hands.

In just a heartbeat, Vegeta’s tongue traced a wet trail along the line of Kakarot’s collarbone stopping at the juncture between shoulder and neck. When the prince felt the staccato throbbing of the jugular against the tip of his tongue something primitive stirred deep inside him. Kakarot’s blood was pumping right there, underneath a tenuous barrier of tissue. It would be so easy. Just a little puncture and that rich, warm fluid would flow freely within his mouth. Exalted by that thought, a lusty groan that had an animalistic quality to it, rumbled from deep within his chest as he instinctively bared sharp canines and ran his tongue across them with a vicious glint in his pupils, meanwhile wondering if Kakarot’s blood tasted as sweet as his skin. That would be perfect, he mentally approved as his teeth tentatively rasped over the creamy surface. The sensation was so incredibly exhilarating; like a lightning coursing through his body. He could feel his need weeping, dampening the front of his pants as his fangs started a frenzy dance over his defenseless prey, scratching mercilessly, leaving angry red trails that glowed dramatically over the satiny pallor of Kakarot‘s neck.

The scrapes, albeit not deep enough to draw out blood, stung horribly and Kakarot yelped in pain. Vegeta paused when he felt the younger saiyan stiffening in his arms, and furrowed his brow as the new scent rolling off his partner washed over him. It was not really the rancid stench of fear but close, something akin to apprehension or anxiety, but mixed with eager anticipation. Vegeta sighed, mostly in frustration but, almost involuntarily, he tightened his arms around Kakarot, holding him closer; the protective gesture intended to convey a sense of safety to the uneasy teenager.

For a brief lapse of time, Kakarot remained slightly rigid, breathing heavily; but his body soon began to relax at the soothing scent coming from the prince and he did not make any further attempt to withdraw. Yet Vegeta did not make any movement on him until he sensed the younger male yielding into the embrace, wrapping his arms around the prince‘s neck with a soft moan.

With a devious leer, Vegeta took Kakarot’s tail into his hands and began to gently pet across the furry length with long, comforting strokes, always avoiding the extra-sensitive base. He was doing this mostly to distract the boy, either way it served perfectly to his purposes. When a purr type of noise rumbled from Kakarot’s throat, Vegeta dove his mouth once more onto the base of the young saiyan’s neck this time with the sole intention to suck.

Kakarot’s body convulsed in a violent spasm, his sinful bliss breaking through the limpid sky in a savage and piercing scream that left his throat raw as he felt greedy lips suckling and, at the same time, that talented, devilish tongue slurping the tender flesh of the sensitive spot. When the boy mindlessly tilted his head to one side in order to grant better access, at the same time pressing his body deeper into his tormenter, said tormenter erupted in an euphoric sort of grunt that hardly made it through the busy mouth.

The maddening suction seemed to last forever. At first, the intense pleasure inflamed Kakarot to the point of combustion; but as time elapsed, the excessive stimulation on his nerve endings became all too overwhelming and a dull pain leisurely spread through his entire body. Soon his uncontrolled shrieks gave way to hysterical sobs that finally dwindled to ragged intakes of air as exhaustion clawed at him.

There was a moment when Kakarot became partially aware of a light quake lacing through the earth beneath his feet. But he had no time to even get surprised at the oddity of it because a sudden lash of scorching air swept over him, sheathing him in excruciating agony. It burned terribly, as if he had been peeled off his skin an someone poured on his raw flesh a gallon of alcohol to immediately set him on fire. Too unbearable. Yet he could not gather any strength to move or let out a simple whimper, it was as though the insatiable prince was sucking to the last ounce of his energy and even his spirit out of him.

It lasted a mere second, yet to Kakarot seemed like a dreadful eternity; he wobbled as the last stabbing throes racked through him, his trembling legs barely able to support his own weight. He would had collapsed for sure if not for the powerful arms embracing him. But soon, blissful numbness took possession of his body and mind; and though he could still feel the reckless pressure on his neck, the pain had almost completely vanished. With a faint hiss, Kakarot leaned his full weight against the solid physique of the prince while trying to catch his breath.

Vegeta had gotten so carried away that he had not even become aware when his energy started raising and flaring around. It had been totally involuntary but the very moment his mind registered what he was doing, he quickly powered down before he would have a charred Kakarot in his arms. Though the boy had not voiced out loud his pain, Vegeta was certain to have caused him some damage. He did not bother, though, to check the extent of it; instead, he continued to work on the elegant neck with the same intensity as before.

The impulse to sink his fangs into the pulsing vein beneath his lips was becoming increasingly stronger with every passing second. But right when he was about to give into temptation, the prince froze all of a sudden and pulled apart; that nagging feeling at the back of his head, that feeble shade of recognition that had been looming over his consciousness finally trespassed the haziness and all became clear.

Kakarot was in season. His first heat, which marked the passage into adulthood. All submissive males went through it. It was an indication that they were finally mature enough, both mentally and physically, to assume their role as real adults, with all their rights and obligations.

Vegeta, disconcerted, brushed absentmindedly his thumb over the hickey he had left on the alabaster skin. Certainly, the heat explained the motive of his territorial behavior and his own reactions. But how could he have been so dense as to fail to see something so evident sooner?

Saiyans possessed a highly-developed olfactory sense, being able to perceive the slightest of the variations in the emotional state of another individual and any kind of physical alteration by smell alone. Children had a neutral scent that did not provoke other than indifference or in the best of the cases, mostly to their close relatives, a sense of protection. Only the scent of a grown adult beheld that prowess to arose a potential partner. And it was during the first heat when that distinctive odor not only blossomed but reached its highest peak of intensity due to the plenteous amounts of pheromones emitted to lure the alpha males in the vicinity- only familiars were unaffected by it- thus meaning that he was ready and willing to mate. He should had noticed Kakarot’s state the very moment the boy’s submissive scent swept over him. But all it occurred to himself at the moment was that he had lost his mind.

‘How stupid!‘ He inwardly sneered at himself. But on second thought, anybody would have jumped into that same conclusion - that he was insane- considering the facts objectively: He was trying to hump a complete stranger in the presence of two of his subordinates. Though it was close to the truth; he was actually affected by a transitory madness, but the sort of madness caused by his raging hormones. However, the knowledge that his reactions were the consequence of a natural physiologic process did not help at all. He hated to lose control over his own body. If he was weak to the point of being incapable to keep his animal instincts at bay, how could he ever have the necessary strength of mind and self-discipline to get to be a supersaiyan?

Now he was certainly angry and he mentally reproved himself as a deep frown contorted his features. But most of all, he was confused. There had been other boys, plenty of them actually he had deflowered during the rut. But he could not recall to have reacted so wildly, with such intensity before. He had even attempted to kill Nappa, (not that he would have regretted it). But why now? Why with this boy?

In their home planet things were more ‘civilized’. Saiyans matured very quickly, it was a question of survival for such a belligerent race; beta males underwent his first heat at the average age of fourteen. (Kakarot was a rare exception because he was, as far as Vegeta knew, about seventeen. Possibly, and very wisely, his body had decided that the total isolation from his race made it unnecessary and senseless until now, and only the sudden intrusion of other Saiyans had triggered the process.) When the moment came, the father would usually invite close relatives and a selected group of friends- only those whom his son felt more affinity or even attraction for -to a sort of party to celebrate the event, but mostly to choose a candidate to guide the adolescent through the rut, or more precisely to deflower the boy.

It was the most practical way to do it. During the first heat, the excessive production of hormones caused restlessness, itchiness, fever and even extreme pain that would only disappear after the mating, once restored the hormone balance; hence, the young male would be in a sex spree, letting anyone who crossed his way to ravish him; so better leave it all in the hands of someone trustworthy.

Then it occurred to Vegeta that had Kakarot been raised on their home planet, it would most likely have been his father, the king the one to defile him. Bardock would not trust his son to anybody else. And, at first, that sole idea inflamed his wrath, causing him to growl in vicious jealousy. But then he began to laugh maniacally at the irony of it all. ‘Fuck, you, dear father. It’s going to be me, ME, the one to take him’

He licked his lips with insane euphoria. For once he would have sweet retribution for all the humiliations he had endured over the years. And that was his last coherent thought before finally succumbing to his most primitive side.

In his sex-crazed state, his body yearned for relief; more than that, actually, he had been seeking in all his lovers, without success, that kind of unique, ultimate completion that would make him explode with the force of a supernova, reducing the universe to asses in the ensuing expansive wave. And Kakarot was the one. It was only an intuition but with a heady tang of certainty that had his heart pounding in such a wild way that it would burst out of his ribcage at any moment.

With avid hands he cupped Kakarot‘s well-round buttocks, mauling and massaging the tender yet firm flesh, before jerking him so impossibly close that both bodies seemed about to merge as one alone. Then he grinded his arousal against the inviting form before him; his grunts blowing through the air coupled with the boy’s mewls.

When the older saiyan began shoving his groin into him, Kakarot driven by his state of growing excitation, nuzzled him and instinctively spread his legs wider shifting all his weight onto one leg and lifting the other to curl it around Vegeta’s hip and thigh giving, that way, more access to the unremitting thrusts of the prince; moaning and grunting against Vegeta’s neck as his tail wafted agitatedly with gratification.

Soon Vegeta set a wild pace, never stopping of bucking and rotating his hips, simultaneously erupting in a string of howls and bark-like sounds more suitable to a ferocious beast than to a rational creature. Meanwhile Kakarot’s moans reached half an octave higher every time Vegeta’s erection rammed into his crotch.

The prince, encouraged by the wanton response of his partner, delved his fingers into the warm and clammy cleft of Kakarot’s butt, separating the taut globes and teasing at the entrance of that tight passage in between with one of his fingers, caressing the contour but without venturing in; the action eliciting a needful meow from the boy. Then he added a second finger, moving them more urgently. After brushing them around the diminutive pucker, he pressed a little with his nails and fingertips not really passing the ring of muscles but enough to stimulate and lit ablaze the nerve-endings on the zone. He accompanied the action with rapid rotations of his pelvis and Kakarot dug his fingers in the prince’s shoulders, crying out desperately as violent shudders wrecked his slender frame.

The world had long ago stopped spinning around Kakarot and reality had been reduced to red fire; even he, not flesh and bones anymore, just a scorching flame burning endlessly. And when he thought that it was impossible to reach higher peaks of pleasure, a new wave, more powerful, rippled to his very core, leaving him devastated.

Vegeta had not ceased in his previous ministrations, in fact the prince’s wickedly skillful fingers were pressing more forcefully at his intimate opening while his privates were crushed in that delicious way that made him see white lights flashing across his eyelids. And as if was not enough, something furry was tickling the extra-sensitive underside of his testicles and perineum, it was the tip of the prince’s tail, stroking increasingly harder all over the place. Kakarot’s legs were shaking uncontrollably due to all the overbearing stimulation while a ceaseless whine left his lips along with a trail of saliva. And when, besides all of that, Vegeta’s mouth attacked again his jugular, Kakarot arched his back at an impossible angle with a cracking noise. At doing so, the lips that were applying vacuum-like suction got brusquely detached from his neck with a popping sound, accompanied by the hysterical screech of the boy and the bestial groans of the prince.

Placing his free hand on Kakarot’s nape, (the other still playing with the delicate tissues at Kakarot’s entrance) and bucking his hips frantically back and forth, Vegeta pulled Kakarot’s head closer to continue his assault on the neck. Then, trailing the hand on the base of the skull down to Kakarot’s tail, Vegeta raked his nails roughly along the appendage, loving the helpless way the boy writhed and yelped under his ministrations.

Kakarot did not know how long the agonizing torture lasted, but when it ended he was reduced to a quivering, sweaty heap of hiccups, snivels, sobs and animal-like yips. Vegeta was so painfully hard that he finally decided to put an end to the courtship, (Saiyans were not precisely famous for their subtleness, not even when it came to woo a sexual partner. Anyway, it was not a practical thing when rampant hormones were running riot within.)

They were ready to move to the next stage but there was too many clothes in the way and his skin yearned for feeling Kakarot’s. Vegeta retreated to divested himself from the offending garments, but when he tried to remove the other’s hands from around his neck, the boy at last returning to the real world, tilted his head upwards piercing him with eyes oozing disappointment and betrayal. But Kakarot was too tired to struggle and he brought his arms down at his sides, panting for breath; his whole body trembling like a leaf.

A smirk of satisfaction tugged at Vegeta’s lips, Kakarot looked so edible when he was like that, vulnerable and helpless, that the wet stain caused by the pre-cum that was leaking out on the front of his pants became twice as big.

With cynical eyes, Vegeta extended his right hand to glide down his fingers faintly from Kakarot’s torso to his navel in a sensual yet feather-light touch, pausing there an instant, reveling in the tremor of slick, glistening skin. Kakarot’s gaze was all disarray as he looked intently at the prince. With a small snicker, Vegeta drew his hand off Kakarot’s body and proceeded to remove his armor; he was tossing the thing up and over his head when a foul stench drifted toward him. He recognized it before it filled his lungs. It reeked like defy and sedition. Bloodlust clamored through his veins and rage veiled his eyes in crimson as the image of Nappa looming behind Kakarot struck his retinas.

***************************

After Vegeta threatened to kill him, Nappa had remained in a sullen mood, sitting on the matted ground and mindlessly clutching and pulling up the dense grass as he sulked and brooded over his humiliation, growing increasingly incensed with every passing minute. So engrossed he was in his self- indulgent pity that he stayed unconscious of the little chaos he had created on the soil around him; where just seconds ago flourished an uniform layer of lush green now only were wide patches of dark loam.

At first, and despite his murderous and vengeful thoughts, the oversized saiyan did not dare to disturb the frenzied couple; but the heavier the scent of rut hung in the air the more restless he became. His skin itched severely and he was perspiring profusely, nearly to the bound of dehydration. The sweet fragrance of submissiveness was too alluring to resist; so dislodging all fear from his consciousness and driven by his baser instincts, Nappa approached Kakarot from behind and positioning himself right behind the boy grabbed his hips to lift the delectable ass in the air.

At being manhandled once again by the ugly bully, Kakarot felt an uncontrollable need to run away but he decided to ignore it, twisting instead his head to look over his shoulder. Nappa was licking his lips as his gaze, wet with lubricity, delighted in the splendid roundness of that bum that seemed to beckon him.

Kakarot furrowed his brow, disgust and mortification etched themselves on his features. Just an instant ago he had been feeling so wonderful but now this gross, stinky brute was touching him in a way he did not like at all; it just felt wrong, unlike the other man, the one who smelled so good and whose caresses had lit his body ablaze.

He did not understand why all of this was befalling now, why things were happening so fast. His whole world had been turned upside down and nothing made sense anymore. Since when had life ceased flowing in its predictable and uneventful placidness to hit this spiral, to bring this turmoil that was shaking him to the core, leading him to heights of supreme delight to instantaneously drowning him into the deepest, darkest pitches of despair?

He turned to stare straight ahead, resting his eyes on the compact frame of the shorter man, looking for some comfort or reassurance. But the prince had a rather intimidating appearance; his muscles had bulged out, increasing their size at least twice and the dark flames in his pupils held an emotion completely foreign to him, that infused his spirit with an eerie sort of coldness. That icy sensation spurred up his spine and spread across his chest clawing at his heart. Shivering, Kakarot grumbled under his breath, suddenly wishing the strangers to disappear and things return to normality.

But then he felt a vigorous slap on his right buttock and his eyes become larger with shock. Kakarot cried out loudly; it stung madly and he could feel furious redness expanding over his ass-cheek, but it had been the surprise factor what outraged him the most. He hissed menacingly, struggling to tear away, finally giving into the impulse to escape. But Nappa had sneaked one of his arms around his slander waist and it was difficult to move, let alone scurrying from his grip.

Nappa made use of his free hand to tug at the waistband of his pants, straining to release his weeping erection. At that precise moment, Vegeta’s auburn tail bristled out and began to musk.

While the tail glands of submissive males emitted pheromones to allure dominant partners, the tails of alpha males, as was Vegeta’s case, released ‘aggressive’ pheromones to dissuade and defy other alphas. And so Vegeta’s message drifted through the breeze, clear, unmistakable: He was ready to kill those who dared to dispute him his prize. When Nappa smelled danger in the air, he loosened his grip on the boy to take a look at his rival, who was growling angrily.

Kakarot, seeing his chance to flee, kicked at his aggressor with all the force he could muster before racing toward a nearby cluster of trees. There he flexed his knees to jump onto a high branch and, taking a hold of a thick and flexible liana vine, he disappeared into the shadowy thickness of the jungle.

All had happened so fast that Vegeta had only time to drop into a fighting stance, with a poisonous gleam in his eyes, bare fangs flashing dangerously under the sun and his tail lashing violently in the air to show his hatred. But Kakarot’s hasty departure quelled his pungent urge to kill the obnoxious giant, and his vicious growls and roars dwindled to a gruffly, feeble huff of annoyance and disenchantment.

Grabbing a hold of Nappa’s collar he simply uttered a harsh menace. ”Don’t get in my way, bastard. If you dare to interfere I’ll kill you, the boy is mine, understand?”

Nappa gulped down but try as he might he could not bring himself to yield. He was divided by his vows of loyalty and his carnal desire. Kakarot’s scent was still hanging heavily in the air, blazing his senses and clouding his reasoning. But Vegeta, conscious of his rival’s hesitation, managed to find the less sanguinary of the possible solutions. Before the hunky warrior had any time to react, the prince, with astounding speed and agility flew right behind him, knocking him unconscious with a precise blow on the base of his cranium.

“You …don’t stay there like a useless twit!” He scorned to an agape Raditz. “Take him to the ship and wait until our return.”

“But sire…” he murmured coyly, as the prince glared daggers at him. He was still stupefied. Due to being family he had remained unaffected to Kakarot‘s heat, but he had been watching the development in morbid fascination, taking good care of not interfering. The prince was already downright terrifying while in the plenitude of his faculties, so better not to test his boundaries. What dreadful things would Vegeta be capable of doing in such an unstable condition?

But now that Vegeta seemed to have recovered his lucidity, at least partially, Raditz had to do something to help his little brother, even knowing that it was useless.

Had Kakarot been raised in his natal planet, accustomed since his childhood to the presence and scent of other males around him and with the guide of a paternal figure to give him advice and properly prepare him, either his reaction and that of his suitors would have been more moderated and controlled. But owing to the lack of prior contact with other individuals from his species and also to the extreme climatic conditions of the place, the mating could be rather violent. Raditz had heard from his father too many stories about other Saiyans that had lived secluded in remote lands of the planet or in outer space colonies with scarce presence of others of their kind, and the outcome of their rut had not been precisely auspicious. The submissive- weaker- counterpart, usually suffered grave sequels and some even had died during the mating. And with Vegeta involved, Raditz dreaded for his brother’s fate. Would he ever have another occasion to see his brother?

For that reason, Raditz tried to overcome the fear Vegeta instilled in him and swallowing thickly the lump in his throat, he pointed. “The king’s birthday is due in few days, milord, and we must be back home in time for the celebrations and…“ Vegeta cut him in mid sentence, with a mischief smirk tugging at his lips. “Tsk, do not worry , I will be coming…very soon” The bulge in his pants throbbed painfully as to emphasize the vulgar innuendo.

With that, Vegeta took into the air laughing maniacally and flew in the direction the boy had disappeared while Raditz, sweat-dropping, hauled unceremoniously the unconscious oaf over one of his shoulders and headed to the ship as he had been ordered.

TBC

LOST CHILD. Chapter Two. Part Two

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:09:56 GMT

LOST CHILD

CHAPTER TWO. PART TWO

When the spaceship hatch slid open, its occupants, three travelers of fierce appearance, stayed on the threshold for brief instants, squinting at the intense luminosity of the sunlight. Once their vision became adjusted, a quick scan of their surroundings revealed that they had landed on a slightly undulating clearing in the midst of what, by all appearances, seemed a tropical jungle.

The assorted array of greens of the ubiquitous, lush foliage was certainly a refreshing sight for eyes that had only experienced, during the endless journey on transport, the dull and sober metallic hue of the ship. But Vegeta, as per usual, was in too of a foul mood to appreciate the charms of Mother Nature and, flanked by his two guards, he strolled down the disembarking ramp, huffing; the lines of his habitual scowl growing deeper as his heightened senses resented the brutal assault of the overwhelming environment.

The air, saturated with a plethora of penetrating, heady fragrances, punched its way into his defenseless nostrils; the underlying stench of decaying leaves and over-ripe fruits causing his stomach to coil with nausea.

Thick beads of sweat oozed from his every pore at the stinging lash of the sultry heat. And the oppressive humidity of the atmosphere clung to every last inch of his body in an asphyxiating sort of embrace.

Everything in that primeval world was so intense, so sickening and insidiously intrusive that the prince, tightening more than usual his tail around his waist, contorted his features, briefly, in a snarl of disgust, suddenly longing for the roughness of his austere quarters at home.

His two companions, however, stayed apparently unaffected, as if suffering of a transient sort of sensory unawareness. Nappa, still immersed in a hazy state of ethylic intoxication, was too occupied trying to keep his balance and Raditz was too impressed with the information filtered trough his retinas to mind anything else.

“Amazing!” An utterly awestruck Raditz finally broke the silence. “Wow! I think this planet gravity is even weaker than Namek’s.” He launched himself up and stayed hovering in the air. “I feel so light!” He shouted out enthusiastically, but the others completely ignored him. Nappa had finally stumbled upon his feet, rolling all the way down the ramp to land onto the grassy ground with a heavy and loud thump, and Vegeta took the chance to vent out some of his pent-up frustration by kicking him roughly in the ribcage as a stream of the most atrocious invectives escaped his lips.

Shrugging off, Raditz decided to carry out a surveillance flight over the clearing. They had landed on the same coordinates where Kakarot’s spaceship had been pinpointed so it should be somewhere near.

His stomach fluttered as he flew; he was going to meet his baby brother at last and he barely could contain his nervousness. He had not thought much about it before, but now all of a sudden, a myriad of questions assailed him. How would it have been to live by himself, with nobody else around? What kind of person had his sibling grown to be in that solitude? Would he be able to adjust to the new life awaiting for him, among his kind?

A glint of anticipation danced on his eyes and a small smile dwelled his lips, all thoughts dissipating as he glided over a crater on which bottom lay the little pod, almost intact and partially buried under the muddy soil.

“Sire, I found it!“ He shouted, stopping in midair.

Vegeta booted the prone form over the ground one last time before walking purposefully toward the overexcited Saiyan. Nappa, either due to the anesthetizing effects of the gargantuan amount of alcohol ingested or simply out of habit, did not appear to be bother in the least after the rude treatment inflicted upon him; he simply picked himself up, staggering clumsily upon wobbling feet, and dusted himself off but made no attempt to approach his companions.

Vegeta waited at the verge of the big hole, with his arms securely crossed over his chest while Raditz crawled into the tiny pod for a closer inspection. One of the panels appeared blackened and with a big hole on its surface exposing multitude of tangled, charred wires. But the control panel seemed to be intact; however, when Raditz proceeded to switch on the central computer in order to monitor the extent of the damage nothing happened.

“It‘s busted,” he exclaimed, pressing frantically all the buttons.

“Really?” Came Vegeta’s scornful remark, then he added in an irritated tone, “Idiot! What did you expect? It’s evident that the damn thing was defective and that’s why it crash-landed on this forsaken planet in the first place. Now, can you tell me something I did not know already.” The frown on Vegeta’s face had been growing deeper as words burst out abruptly from his lips making Raditz wince and gulp down thickly.

“I…I’ll need some time to…uh… find where is the failure and what exactly happened…” He stuttered with vacillation.

“Forget it. That would only be a waste of time. Look for any evidence that the transmitter was manipulated recently. At least that would give us the damn certainty that your brother is alive.”

Giving Raditz some time to finish his work, Vegeta switched on his scouter in search for relevant levels of vital energy on the planet. He knew that Kakarot had been born with a combat power of two units. And that fact infuriated him even more. Why to take so much trouble for such a disgraceful saiyan? What would be next? Taking Bardock’s pets out for their daily walk?

With a lethal glare, he pushed his angry thoughts to the back of his mind and concentrated instead on the data he was receiving. Exasperatedly inconclusive. Too many signals similar or slightly higher than Kakarot‘s, more than likely belonging to the local fauna. It would take them an eternity to investigate them all.

“This makes no sense at all.“ Raditz exclaimed exasperated, disrupting Vegeta’s train of thoughts.

“Well?” Vegeta asked impatiently as Raditz floated upwards to land beside him.

“There are signs of a recent explosion right on the communication unit. I haven’t got the slightest idea how the signal could even get emitted because the equipment is fried.”

Vegeta rubbed his chin thoughtfully for some seconds before venturing a hypothesis.

“That recent explosion…possibly was caused by a shot-circuit…this place seems to have a tropical or semitropical weather. Rainstorms must be frequent. Perhaps, recently a lightning hit the ship and the intensity of the electric discharge sufficed to activate the transmitter before it got burnt.”

“So, it wasn’t my brother who sent the SOS after all…“ Raditz trailed off, the euphoria that had accompanied him since he learned of his possibility to meet Kakarot suddenly dwindling as Vegeta merely shook his head.

“But…that does not prove anything.“ The tallest of the two snarled stubbornly, in the same fashion as a begrudged kid. Then a thought crossed his mind, that revived his shattered hopes.

“He was alive, he is alive…” Raditz murmured with a nervous laughter.

Vegeta darted him a sideways glance through narrowed eyes. “What are you babbling, fool?”

“My brother…He survived to the crash. There was no trace of him on the ship, if he would have died we would have found his bones in there.”

“Not necessarily.” Vegeta replied in a neutral and aseptic tone, eyes cold and devoid of any emotion. “For all we know, he could have died or gotten severely injured and the smell of blood and fresh meat could attract a savage beast that dragged him to its lair to feed its cubs.”

Refusing to get his hopes crushed again, Raditz uttered weakly, “Or he might be alive.”

During the short period that Raditz had been serving under Vegeta, he had learnt one thing; the prince was very meticulous, above and beyond the call of duty, in the fulfillment of his assignments. But he had sounded so heartless with his graphic description of Kakarot’s possible fate that Raditz could not help the icy chill that rippled trough his spine, fearing that Vegeta would deem useless to continue the mission.

“But…we can not go home yet, we…we ..I. I mean, sire I beg you…” Vegeta smelled the fear in the air and gave an annoyed stare to the stammering Saiyan.

“Stop being so pathetic, Raditz. I may believe this is an utter waste of MY precious time but it doesn‘t mean I will give up so easily,” he snarled, “I will turn this damned place upside down if needed. If the only remainder of your brother is a fucking speck of dust, be certain that I will find it.” His severe tone, through clenched teeth, oozed so much venom for Vegeta suddenly recalled the, in his opinion, insulting arrogance Bardock had displayed when he had informed them of this new mission. But shrugging off his shoulders as if that way he could get rid of his anger, Vegeta turned on his heels, ready to start the search.

“But if the boy is dead, how are we going to find him?” Nappa asked with a groggy voice as he ungracefully loomed close to the other two Saiyans.

A mortified expression crept on Vegeta’s features and he chewed onto his bottom lip in an attempt to repress an urgent, murderous impulse to smash that ugly face. Instead, he grabbed a hold of Nappa’s collarbone and wrenched him down to spit on his face, scowling viciously. “Are you doubting my capacity, moron?”

But before the bulky Saiyan could give expression to his embarrassment, Vegeta, with his senses always in alert, swiftly shifted his gaze to the top of a nearby tree. An almost imperceptible rustle of leaves and a muffled whisper suddenly catching his attention. He switched on his scouter again and adjusted the coordinates to get the energy lectures. His eyes instantaneously widened and his mouth dropped open slowly in disbelief. The level was over one hundred, still unacceptable for a Saiyan. But it was impossible; in his previous scanning he had not found any signal over three units.

“What happened, Vegeta? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost or something.” Taunted Nappa. But, luckily for him, the prince was paying no heed and the huge brute turned to stare at Raditz, guffawing stupidly. “A ghost, Kakarot’s ghost perhaps, see Raditz, he had found your brother at last.”

The hairy Saiyan glared at him; the idiot had the nerve to treat their boss in such a disrespectful way and even to mock him; he was still too drunken or simply had lost his brains, there was no other possible explanation. What surprised him, though, was that Vegeta had not slain him by now.

“This stupid thing is broken.“ The prince yelled angrily, crushing the device between his fingers before tossing it onto the ground.

Raditz rolled his eyes and looked at Vegeta as if he was some kind of lunatic. That had been beyond bizarre, even for the grouchy prince. But then Vegeta, looking fairly more relaxed, curled his lips into an undecipherable smirk that left the shaggy saiyan even more baffled if possible.

“We don’t have to look for him, anyway. He has found us. Look over there.” He uttered, pointing at a certain branch several feet high above their heads.

Scarcely had the prince pronounced such words when a figure jumped with feline agility from his lofty perch onto the verdant soil before three sets of mesmerized eyes that seemed incapable to drift apart from the breathtaking apparition; a creature who could only be described as a demigod: A stark naked young man, evidently not yet in his virile plenitude, judging by his boyish features and the soft and sinuous curves still retained by his slender but beautifully chiseled body.

For a fleeting instant, Kakarot stood motionless; large, shining eyes gingerly flickering over each and one of the strangers. Apparently satisfied with the quick scrutiny, the youngster began to step straight forward, initially at a slow, cautious pace; his velvety skin glistening beautifully under the sun; his graceful movements causing the toned, lean muscles of his torso and thighs to ripple sensuously.

It was impossible to remain indifferent to such delicacy, a succulent feast for hungry eyes. And both, Vegeta and Nappa suddenly felt like burning as they cast lewd gazes over the oblivious adolescent. Raditz, on the other hand, had been rendered speechless, trying to assume the fact that he was really facing his brother.

But the trio stayed otherwise in unobtrusive quietness and Kakarot, once overcome the inevitable instinct of self-preservation, strode purposefully; his advance becoming bolder, more resolute with each step ahead. His puffy tail swaying loosely behind him rhythmically, in perceptible contentment, until he finally halted just a few inches away from the nearest of the three men, who happened to be Raditz.

“So we meet at last, my little brother.” He uttered once recovered from his stupor, smugly smirking at the boy.

Never having seen or heard a human being other than himself before, Kakarot recoiled two steps backwards, startled as the alien sound drifted to his ears; an expression of bewildered shock plastered on his face. But his adventurous nature and innate curiosity promptly took over, impelling him to edge closer to the tall man. He placed his hands tentatively on the front of Raditz’s armor and, flaring his nostrils, proceeded to sniff like a puppy would do to get acquainted with new arrivals.

Kakarot’s pupils widened in surprise as a sensation of déjà vu washed over him. There was something strangely familiar and soothing about that scent, something so powerfully evocative, that it sufficed just a mouthful of it to make him relive a long- forgotten memory, finding himself all of a sudden enveloped by a warmth that brought a smile into his eyes.

His tail wagged back and forth uncontrollably behind him as he breathed once and again in the pleasant smell, in a frantic attempt to prolong such delightful sensation for as long as possible. But after a while, the excessive hyperventilation caused him to become lightheaded and he paused, turning his head upwards to look into his brother’s eyes.

Taken aback by Kakarot’s strange behavior, Raditz had remained still, almost petrified, unable to articulate a single word. And when his little brother gingerly drew a hand up to his face, he just furrowed his brow in bewilderment.

But such response only served to encourage the curious boy, for he became bolder in his tactile inspection and suddenly all were but hands on Raditz’s face, tracing brows and eyelids, groping and pinching nose, mouth and ears, stroking cheeks and forehead. All the prodding accompanied by an unintelligible, apish chattering intoned excitedly, with chirping accents, and occasional squeaks of ostensible delight.

“Hey, cut it out, you little scoundrel!” Raditz snarled, irritated. But, undaunted, the clueless adolescent raised his hand to touch the scouter. Kakarot pursed his lips, giving a quizzical look under knitted eyebrows, all the time drumming his fingers on the smooth plastic surface of the strange object.

“That’s no toy, don’t touch it!“ Frowning, Raditz slapped the annoying hand away and Kakarot rose wide, questioning eyes to hold his brother’s sharp gaze just for a brief instant as if striving to fathom the meaning of the harsh utterance.

But Kakarot had too short of an attention span and his onyx orbs immediately dropped down and fluttered sideways; the protruding protectors over Raditz’s shoulders suddenly becoming the focus of his interest. He grabbed the extremity of one of them and, disregarding the huffs emitted by his brother, yanked at it repeatedly with increasing force, finding quite entertaining the flexibility of the material.

Soon he got tired of that game too and reached out for Raditz‘s fisted hand, but the tall man brusquely jerked it out of his grip and crossed tightly his arms over his chest, sighing loudly through gritted teeth and twitching; his mortified stare meeting a puzzled one.

Raditz was becoming more an more infuriated, the boy was but a nuisance with his unrelenting prodding and prying. And the chuckles that continually came from his other two companions, who had remained, to his surprise, discreetly apart as amused spectators, were not helping at all. But when Kakarot began to yank at his long spiky tresses, that was the last straw.

“Stop it, idiot! We’re here to take you home, not to gambol.” Raditz angrily snarled; his face suffused with the crimson of rage as he seized roughly his sibling‘s wrist, pinning him to the spot with a warning glare. Kakarot gasped, fixing narrowed eyes on the stranger and puckering his lips in what seemed an expression hovering between discomfort and resentment.

“Do not be so rude, Raditz. He seems to have taken a liking of you,” Nappa exclaimed, and with a lustful spark in his eyes, he added, “Hey, beauty! Come here, papa has a big present for you right inside his pants, you can come and touch it all you want.” The strident voice and the thunderous laughter that followed made the young lad cringe; a hiss of displeasure blew pass swollen rosy lips as large ebony eyes fell over the massive Saiyan for a brief instant before swiftly shifting toward the source of a sudden, enticing voice of dark and profound tones and sensuous cadence. “Pft, it’s just natural, he surely have recognized the scent of family, after all he is Saiyajin like us, you buffoon!” As the words slipped from Vegeta‘s lips, Kakarot let marveled eyes wander languidly, almost reverentlyover the prince’s figure.

Massive waves of power and authority rolled off with incredible force from Vegeta and for a brief instant, Kakarot found himself incapable to resist the call. His feet moved by their own volition, but restrained by the tight grip Raditz kept around his wrist, he could only venture a hesitant step toward the man whom each and every fiber of his body felt irremissibly attracted to. All the magic fled, though, the very moment Raditz cupped Kakarot’s chin, jerking his face brusquely toward him to have his full and undivided attention.

Since his younger brother made his entrance, Raditz had the vague sensation that something was amiss with the boy’s bizarre demeanor and reactions. And his incapacity to figure out exactly what, had been irking him to no end. His lips did not ceased twitching in frustration. But suddenly realization dawned on him slithering a frown across his features.

“Kakarot, tell me, where do you come from? How old are you?” He just shot whatever question came to mind, with increasing ire in his tone. ”Come on, say something. Why don’t you speak?” The boy merely blinked before eyeing the bulky man with evident perplexity, but no sound left his lips. A blood vessel began throbbing in the corner of Raditz’s forehead and he twisted rudely his brother’s wrist. When Kakarot yelled furiously a disjointed and nonsensical jabbering, Raditz clenched his teeth with such violence that his jaw hurt.

“What the hell? He cannot speak Saiyago. Why?” Raditz questioned angrily, looking in Vegeta’s direction.

Regaining his bearing at the warning raise of eyebrows Vegeta was giving him, Raditz added more softly, “I thought those space-pods were equipped to teach the babies all they needed to know…” He absently relinquished his grip from Kakarot as his words tumbled clumsily through the air.

“What an idiotic question!” Retorted Vegeta sternly, not deigning to glance at him, instead laying his gaze on the boy, who was rubbing his reddened wrist inattentive to his onlookers. “You had just surveyed the damage of the ship, the computer presumably got broken before any information could be conveyed into Kakarot’s brain. It’s a wonder that the life-supporting system continued functioning until your brother could make it to this planet.”

So saying, the prince arched an eyebrow in mild disinterest; but he could not help the shadow of an awkward smile tugging at his lips as he watched, amused, how Kakarot, with a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes and an impish grin settled on his lips reached up to snatch Raditz’s scouter. The boy avidly sniffed at the device as he quickly scampered some steps away; to his brother’s chagrin who could only bark an exasperated, “What the fuck?”

Paying no mind to the snickers coming from his companions, Raditz shot a withering glare in the direction of his bug of a brother and hastily moved right behind him. But before he could retrieve the device, Kakarot, after running his tongue over its surface to taste it, threw it to the ground with a grimace of disgust on his face.

“Dumbass, that‘s not food!” Raditz grumbled as he stormed off past the boy.

As soon as that massive cascade of pitch dark hair appeared in his field of vision, Kakarot fell in an hypnotic short of trance. It was, with difference the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. When Raditz bended over in order to scoop up the scouter, he launched himself up abruptly with sufficient momentum to land on all fours and with a strong thud, directly onto his elder brother’s back.

The violent impact caused Raditz to yelp as the upper half of his body buckled slightly. He mechanically brought his arm to the sore area, fighting to remove the heavy weight, simultaneously twisting his head to peek over his shoulder. A loud grunt rushed past his lips as his eyes met the little rascal petting the obsidian locks in transfixed ecstasy.

“You fucker! Get out of there!“ Raditz exclaimed fuming, endeavoring to regain his feet and reaching behind with both arms to pull his brother off. On which Kakarot, instead of letting himself drop, threw his arms around Raditz’s head, covering his brother’s eyes and wrapping his legs around the sturdy torso to avoid, that way, losing balance.

Raditz, momentarily deprived of his vision, stumbled rearward awkwardly, clutching at his brother’s hands, trying to tear them apart from his eyes while yelling a string of colorful insults.

Kakarot, on the other hand, strived tenaciously to keep the grip on his brother’s head but with the force Raditz was employing on crushing the bones of his wrists, the pain soon became too unbearable. With a few grunts, he removed his limbs from Raditz’s eyes to grab instead a fistful of locks into both his hands, simultaneously unwrapping his legs from the bulky body. That way he stayed hanging from the long mane causing Raditz’s head to abruptly jerk backward, which elicited loud screams of agony from the harassed Saiyan.

Frantically flailing his arms up in the air, Raditz finally was able to propel his head forward and stand back upright with his brother still suspended behind him. Then, Kakarot, flexing his legs, began dangling and swinging on Raditz’s long tresses in the same fashion he usually did on the jungle vines, as he gurgled and cackled joyously.

At this point, Nappa had burst out into a fit of hysteric laughter while the prince remained outwardly unperturbed, arms folded steadily over his chest, an inscrutable smirk settled on his lips and what suspiciously resembled a faint gleam of mirth dancing in the depths of his eyes.

“You asshole, stop laughing and get him out of my hair!” Raditz ordered at the bulkiest of his compatriots, while shaking his body spasmodically in a, seemingly futile, attempt to detach the unwelcome burden from his body, but only increasing his agony instead.

Sturdy arms slipped under Kakarot’s armpits from behind, firmly encircling the boy’s chest; but once said boy became aware of what was happening, he held the thick strands more forcefully and wrapped again his legs around his brother’s waist. And then there merged concurrently his angered shrieks with Raditz’s painful howls and Nappa’s loud volley of blasphemies in a crazed hullabaloo which caused the fauna of the vicinity to flee in furious stampede.

After several minutes of fierce resistance, (for Kakarot had turned out to be stronger than he appeared, and stubborn as hell), the brute force of the giant prevailed and the wild teen could finally be torn apart from his brother. Kakarot was panting agitatedly into Nappa’s tight grasp while a disheveled Raditz twitched, drawing uneven breaths into his lungs as his fingers frantically threaded through the rumpled and tangled mane to arrange the chaos created there by his brother.

“Easy, monkey boy.” Nappa sneered as Kakarot thrashed about into the giant‘s arms, shouting out an indignant gibbering and shaking his feet back and forth in the air attempting to kick at his captor. “Mm…taming feisty ones is my favorite sport.” Nappa whispered hoarsely; voice made raspy and heavy with lubricity as he pulled Kakarot closer, the boy’s back firmly pressed against his torso.

TBC

LOST CHILD. Chapter Two. Part One

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 16:44:04 GMT

(AN: Check on the author's comments box (below the text) for the links to the rest of chapter two)

Disclaimer: I do not own dragonball and I do not intend to do money with this. The intellectual owner and creator of these characters is Akira Toriyama

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Lime. Possibly bordering squickland with Nappa's attempt to get a piece of Kakarot.

LOST CHILD

CHAPTER TWO: FIRST ENCOUNTER

Vegeta groaned from within the tepid mist that was encircling him, savoring the pleasant sensation of steamy water pounding against sweaty, fatigued limbs and knotted muscles. Definitely, there was nothing better than a hot shower after pushing his body to nearly intolerable limits for countless hours of strenuous training.

In all honesty, he did not mind his daily dose of physical pain- not that he relished on it either, that would be foolish. Nay, pain was only a ’collateral effect’ he had learnt to endure and live with. Saiyans craved for action; fighting was their way of life, bloodlust their motivation, power and victory their aspiration. Pain was just an addition, a mere ‘occupational hazard‘. And, occasionally, a means to get something; but in no way the main aim in itself and absolutely not a source of pleasure. It was just that those aches and cramps, all the wariness after his exercises instilled in him a reassuring sense of accomplishment, making him feel that he was one step- one hit, one bruise, one bump -closer to reach his most cherished goal: Becoming supersaiyan.

Closing his eyes, he massaged the back of his stiffen neck and tilted his head upwards to feel the full impact of the rejuvenating liquid on his face for some seconds. Then he blindly fumbled to reach the automatic dispenser and poured a generous dollop of gel into his cupped palm to dexterously work up a thick lather, meanwhile inhaling deeply the fresh fragrance of lemon that had invaded the shower enclosure completely.

Soapy hands languidly glided over velvety bronzed skin, stroking broad shoulders, finely chiseled chest and toned abs, very leisurely; the hissing and rattling sound of dripping water drowning the sighs of delight elicited by such sensual touches. Deft fingers, slick with lather, slithered downwards more avidly, massaging slender hips, firm, well-rounded buttocks and powerful thighs all the way down to the ankles until the luscious figure of the prince was entirely covered in foam.

The thorough rub down, combined with the soothing effect of the heat and the wonderful scent had the effect of a relaxing balm, deadening his aches and relieving the tension accumulated in his muscles. He ducked under the showerhead, moaning with relief as the torrent of steamy water washed away his tiredness along with the white, slippery froth; all swirling down the drain.

If only his inner turmoil could be, likewise, so easily alleviated! But, alas, his obsessive thoughts and pent-up emotions gave him no respite. He braced his palms against the tiled wall with a blank stare in his downcast eyes as he ruminated over the monumental injustice of his entire situation: He, a prince, the heir of a vast empire, had no control over his own existence; there were always others ordering him around, making choices in his place, deciding his fate.

He mentally laughed with derision at himself and at the cohort of adulators that usually swarmed around him like annoying flies, buzzing out their shallow and insincere praises and compliments in order to win his favor. Poor delusional idiots, blind to the fact that he was but a pitiful puppet, a mere pawn; his life as elusive and insubstantial as the rivulets of water streaming down his body.

Fuming with -in his opinion- righteous indignation, he squirted some shampoo between the palms of his hands and proceeded to lather his scalp. Sinewy fingers scrubbed furiously, desperately at the flattened hair, as if that way his dark musings could be wiped out from his skull. The same brusque treatment was applied to his bristling tail as Vegeta, growling under his breath, cursed his father.

He had always obeyed each of the old man’s absurd caprices, swallowing his pride on more occasions than he would like to remember; but he would never ever forgive him for separating him from the military.

His father knew well that fighting was his only passion. All that excitement, the blood boiling with anticipation at the prospect to test his skills and strength against a vicious opponent; that wave of intense pleasure flooding his body, mind and soul during the onslaught; rolling inside, growing gloriously until imploding in a savage climax at the taste of victory. It was the kind of unsurpassable ecstasy that no other experience could provide; or at least, he had never found anything remotely comparable and he doubted he ever would.

Thus, Vegeta was not able to fathom the motives of such decision, or more precisely, he did not find valid his father‘s reasons. The king had tried to explain to him over and over that he had to strive to become as skilled of a tactician as he already was of a warrior in order to rule his people with utmost efficiency. Bullshit. How could possibly the humiliation of making concessions, yielding and bowing before inferior creatures make of him a good sovereign? The sole idea caused his blood to seethe in his veins with fury and his tail lashed violently splashing some suds of foam all around.

Was his father as dense to fail to see that their people could not be graced with a better leader than the legendary supersaiyan?

A grunt of frustration escaped his throat. Whenever he was in his father’s presence it was like standing amidst the most desolate nothingness, confronted to a huge wall blocking his way. Their relationship was a mere succession of misunderstandings, continuing frictions and acrimonious disputes due to the dramatic clash of their personalities. Both of them so equally thick-headed and iron-willed, never able to find a middle ground to smooth over their differences.

He breathed deeply and shook his head vigorously under the shower jet, but that did not make disappear his irritation. And as though it was not enough disgrace to have been banished to the perpetual ennui that was the diplomatic career, he was stuck with two idiots, with the incredible excuse that he needed an entourage in order to inspire awe and enhance the magnificence and dignity of his status as heir to the most powerful empire of the galaxy.

Ha! -Vegeta scorned, emphasizing his derision with a brusque twitch of his dripping tail- As if those two useless buffoons could inspire other than mockery:

The oldest, Nappa, was a mountain of flesh with colossal brute force but not even an infinitesimal particle of brains within his huge bald head; who spent the majority of the time drinking his ass off.

And the other, Raditz, was in Vegeta’s opinion, the most irritating of the specimens, vain and superficial, who seemed to have no other interest than grooming his ridiculously massive mane of spiky raven hair and who’s only merit was to be the offspring of that insolent Bardock.

His facial features froze in a scowl of contempt at the sudden thought of the Royal Counselor. He punched the wall with his balled fist leaving a dent on the lustrous surface of the white tiles, shuddering at the shimmering hatred lacing through him.

Over the years, Vegeta had witnessed, impotent and with growing alarm and indignation, how Bardock’s influence and power had become reinforced to the detriment of his own position. The king, his father, never took in consideration any of the prince’s opinions or initiatives, yet he regarded each and every one of Bardock’s proposals as if the man was the very impersonation of sheer, unadulterated wisdom.

And is if that was not enough humiliation, now he had been consigned to the ignominious role of mere factotum to the bastard; he, the rightful heir to the throne. Intolerable. Ludicrous. Not only, had he been obliged to drag along with himself Bardock’s eldest, who had happened to be nothing but a coward, ( Vegeta hissed, curling his lips in a grimace of disgust as he reminisced how the bulky Saiyan had begged for his life on bended knees when a defenseless Namekian kid had grabbed his tail to play. The mortified prince had maintained a hard struggle to refrain his urge to blast the moron right there into ashes).

And now he had been ordered to go in the pursue of a shadow: Kakarot, the lost son of the counselor. What a waste of his precious time! He was certain that the boy was dead. And in the hypothetic case that, miraculously, Kakarot would have survived, he would be nothing but an additional annoyance; more than likely another idiot to grant his nerves during their trip back home. Moreover, he, a prince, had to act as a baby-sitter to his “protégé“, (his damned father had a very hideous sense of humor, Vegeta could swear.)

A sudden bleep instantly dissolved his angered reflections into oblivion. The ship was going to enter the planet atmosphere. Turning off the spray and flaring up to dry himself off, Vegeta stepped out of the shower and, after encasing himself within a navy-blue, long-sleeved spandex uniform and a pair of white boots, he headed to his cabin in order to retrieve his armor, gloves and scouter.

TBC

ost

Damaged Souls 2

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 05:49:18 GMT

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own DB/Z/GT

This chapter isn't beta-ed. Sorry for all the errors; just bear in mind that I'm not a native-English speaker and my knowledge of the language isn't as vast as I'd wish.

Thanks for reading.

DAMAGED SOULS

Chapter Two

Goku was maintaining a steady pace during his solitary flight toward the setting sun. The neutral expression of his countenance and his appearance of serene composure perfectly concealing the storm raging within his very soul: His heart had become a battlefield where diverse emotions were engaged in a fierce fight for dominance- culpability clearly prevailing over the rest -while a maelstrom of poignant thoughts and memories was menacing to overflow his mind.

Painful but welcome memories of his son.

Accursed, unwanted memories of those last, shameful, minutes with Vegeta.

But how to purge them out of his system, when all his senses were overloaded with the damned alluring presence of the prince?

The intoxicating and persistent flavor still inciting Goku’s taste buds, awakening in him a yearning for more of that ambrosia.

The rich, masculine scent still lingering in his nostrils, penetrating deeply with every mouthful of air; and the feel of such warmth breath, like an exotic breeze, making his skin tingle and his mind go hazy.

The passionate though protective embrace; Goku could lean against that firm body forever, so welcoming, so comforting.

The subtle caress of velvety lips, still fluttering over his own…All those exquisite, pleasant, but treacherous, sensations, coursing through his veins like an addictive poison, conjured to evoke in him a myriad of disturbing and tempting images.

Unwilling to venture further in the tortuous path his thoughts were taking, Goku squeezed his eyes shut for a brief instant and shook his head vigorously, in a vain attempt to cleanse his psyche, his spirit, his whole self , to concentrate all his energies in mourning his grievous loss.

But his mind seemed disposed to give him no respite, still rummaging, wondering once and again about Vegeta‘s recent demeanor.

Goku was completely mystified by the fact that the proud prince could harbor, for so many years, such intense feelings for him, and, moreover, that he would have proclaimed them so openly, with such unexpected tenderness.

Passionate, sure. Goku had always known that an ardent heart lay captive within Vegeta’s cold appearance. But tender…that was an unsuspected facet of the prince; something that, not even in his most delirious, insane dreams, Goku could have ever imagined.

But, more than confused, Goku was furious. With the prince, for daring to put him under such predicament at such fateful moment; but mostly with the way his own body had reacted, and still was reacting, succumbing to an ephimeral and fictitious gratification.

Had it been only an uncontrollable need of comfort? A mere, unconscious, inevitable response to all the physical, delicious stimulation his nervous terminations had been bombarded with? Or something else, something latent and hidden deep within the most remote recesses of his very core, something he had never dare to explore?

Whatsoever it had come upon him, he did not need to know at the moment. His only certainty was that his behavior had been inexcusable, ignominious and he was the most loathsome and vile of the creatures.

Goku hissed as his face contorted in pain; all the emotional tension he was undergoing, was starting to affect him physically in the form of a dull but relentless ache over his forehead and temples. He drew a deep breath before expelling the air very slowly, but it did nothing to calm his growing anxiety. He groaned in annoyance; he needed to focus his attention on something else or he was going to lose the scarce self-control he still retained.

Therefore, Goku let his gaze wander over the devastated land, outstretched far below like an agonizing victim of his recent insanity: vast expanses of charred soil of a dark-grayish tone; heaps of debris, stones and scorched trunks; columns of dense, white smoke rising up into the sky…The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he noticed the uncanny resemblance between such desolated scenario and the inner landscape of his tortured soul.

He hardly remembered what had happened. His mind only retained a few vague, fragmentary images of his frenzied flight: At some point, he had attained a new level which had resulted in the regeneration of his tail. But the rage and that urgent necessity to escape were still fresh, vivid sensations; too deeply entrenched in his memory, impossible to forget.

But all that madness, the unleashed chaos, anything was preferable to his present awareness; the guiltiness, the agony, so intense and oppressive, eating him whole, making him feel, all of a sudden, so lost, frail and vulnerable, like a leaf slowly being shredded while swirling and spiraling within the eye of a whirlwind.

Goku’s onyx orbs stung with unshed tears and he gasped for air, suffocated, at the sensation of being drowning in the turbulent sea of his emotions.

Sometimes it was better not to feel at all. And with the only desire to leave behind the consuming, overwhelming sorrow, the saiyan speeded up. The pale blue of a sunny afternoon swiftly turning into the hazy violet of a sunset as he devoured mile after mile trough that immense, changing sky.

****************************

When Goku was nearing the harsh, arid region where he had abandoned his son; an amber, agonizing sun was drifting along that line where the earth and the sky melt into each other in a chaste and endless kiss, bleeding golden and bronze, leaving its vibrant and magnificent but ephemeral imprint in the twilight as the land below was starting to get conquered by shadows.

But unimpressed at such magnificent display of beauty, Goku decreased gradually his velocity while descending to glide closer to the ground. He surveyed his whereabouts to locate the exact point where the corpse laid; the vastness and monotony of the place, without any landmark or distinctive signal, making slightly difficult his search.

The earth seemed so peaceful and serene in those lazy hours at the end of the day, so painfully oblivious to Goku’s pain, that he could not refrain an irate frown, his tail lashing violently in the air, as anger and hatred simmered within him, making his heart pound wildly in his ears.

He hated everything; hated the world, no more a friendly and welcoming place; hated every living creature for daring to breath; but mostly hated himself for not having been able to avoid the disaster. A good father would have protected and kept his son away from peril instead of shoving him into its discarnate claws. He would never be able to forgive himself, and that certainty made his stomach lurch with nausea as the recalcitrant pain in his head gradually became more intense.

Right after spotting the corpse, Goku darted down to land silently, softly, as in fear to break the gloomy quietness which reigned supreme all over the place. A chill ran up his spine as the crisp air of the crepuscule bit into his flesh.

He swallowed hard, feeling his lips suddenly going dry and a lump tightening in his throat. Then, dropping to his knees, he reached out with his arms to pick up that lifeless shell; still warm and flaccid, in that stage prior to rigor mortis, when the body hasn’t become rigid yet. Goku pulled him closer against his chest, holding him in a tight embrace and nuzzling his face against the muddy locks of hair. He let a few tears run free as the heavy, metallic scent of blood mercilessly assailed him.

He could not go back home with his son in such state: it was almost impossible to recognize Gohan’s features under the thick layer of grime and dried blood covering his face. No mother should be allowed to see her child like that. Nothing might palliate the unfathomable heartache at the loss of her son, but he would avoid Chichi any unnecessary, additional suffering.

He had to find a place where to cleanse all that damn, bloody traces from his son‘s body. So, taking off into the somnolent sky, he flew southwards, back into the daylight again.

Soon he made out a river in the distance; at first sight, the environment seemed wild and rough, a stony terrain with magnificent, elevated forests and dense thickets at both edges of the untamed torrent. A closer examination of the area revealed the existence of some clearings downstream, where the watercourse was more calmer. He landed with a muffled thud and, very gently, as if afraid to inflict any harm, Goku laid the dear body on the moss-carpeted ground.

As he strode towards the stream, a fresh breeze swept over, carrying a clean aroma of humid wood, heather and pine. Goku halted briefly and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to get rid of the acrid stench of blood still lingering in his nostrils as the rustling sound of leaves and the sweet, melodic murmur of the crystalline water reached his ears.

But his distress was much too overpowering to allow himself relishing in such pleasant and soothing sensations for any longer than a fleeting instant and he swiftly moved to kneel at the edge of the river. He peeled off the remains of his ragged and stained gi top to submerse it into the transparent liquid. Then, returning at his son’s side, Goku dropped on his knees, proceeding, first, to moisten the lips with the soaked piece of fabric.

It was a picturesque rite Goku had witnessed during those three years he spent traveling around the world. It was performed in the belief that the deceased would revive if he was given pure water, preferably by the closest relative.

Goku could understand until certain point why such absurd and irrational traditions still persisted nowadays: People threw themselves into the unsteady arms of superstition, the last bastion of their hopes in their moment of despair, the only source of solace and console for their agonizing hearts. But the motives why he had done it were beyond his rational cognition. It had been a mere reflex action, something absolutely involuntary, because he did not believe in such things and, what was more important, he had utterly and completely lost all hope. Maybe it had just been the unconscious expression of his love and respect for the lost son, his way to render homage to the brave warrior or a simple farewell from a doleful father.

Tired of questioning each and one of his actions, Goku tried to let his mind go blank by concentrating his undivided attention on the task at hand and, sighing, he rubbed the damp cloth, very gently at first, almost reverently, over Gohan’s face and neck; but the coagulated blood was too encrusted so he started to scrub more vigorously.

He paused after a while, exhaling a huff of annoyance upon seeing that only some of the superficial grime had been wiped out. So, tossing the dirty and useless piece of fabric to the ground, he proceeded to undress the limp body.

Goku frowned; there was not much blood under the clothes, but almost the whole surface of Gohan’s skin was covered in huge purple bruises, and those cannot be swept away, those would remain there, exposed, as mute but vivid testimony of the pain he had endured before exhaling his last breath.

Averting his eyes from the corpse, Goku rose to his feet and, after a quick visual inspection of the zone, he went to gather some plants which could be used as soap. Placing them under his gi sash, he promptly moved to haul Gohan into the river.

A tremor ran through him and a light hiss blew past his lips the very moment his body made contact with the icy water. Rising his ki just enough to prevent hypothermia, he remained rooted there, letting the liquid soften the filthy crust. Meanwhile, his mind drifted back to the days of Gohan‘s childhood, prior to the tempest (Raditz’s arrival) which had shaken their placid lives, changing them forever.

The suggestive ambiance; the stillness of such placid afternoon; the vibrant colors of the nature around; the elegant evolutions of the cottony, pristine clouds, lofty ships sailing in a limpid, serene ocean, above his head; the tepid kiss of the sunbeams and the caress of the fragrant zephyr over his skin. All combined, evoking in him happy reminiscences of better days; when he used to take Gohan to similar places, to swim or fish, or simply to sit at the shore to play childish games like throwing pebbles into the water, or looking at the clouds passing by.

The laughs of pure joy of his son, his shyness and candor, his profound curiosity and his affectionate nature. Such precious gifts, so deeply engraved in Goku’s spirit, but never valued enough. Everything gone, lost forever. Only those memories left to torment him. What a blind, stupid fool he had been! So selfish and irresponsible. He should have spent more time with both of his sons when he had the opportunity, instead of flying in the pursuit of crazy adventures just to escape from the tedium of his monotonous existence.

Taking a deep breath, he looked down, turning his attention back to the prone body in his arms. Upon noticing that the water around was starting to acquire a red brownish tone as some of the filth got diluted in it, Goku shifted his son’s body to a vertical position while pulling him closer against his chest; he held him firmly with one arm and, retrieving with the other the plants, he began to rub them all over Gohan’s hair and skin; dexterous fingers massaging, scrubbing, as white puffy suds dripped to float in the stream and iridescent bubbles gleamed briefly before popping around.

During all that time, Goku had been, unconsciously and incessantly, chanting with a sad and low voice: ‘Forgive me, my son.’ But a sudden gust of cold wind snatched him out of his trance; he blinked, shuddering slightly, and dunked the body to rinse off all traces of foam. Then, hauling the limp form over one shoulder, Goku stepped out of the river, flaring his ki to dry both their bodies.

Once on the river‘s bank, Goku stared at Gohan’s strangely serene visage: those purple swollen eyes and the livid bruises accentuating the ghostly, unnatural pallor of his features; and that faint smile on his lips giving him a sinister, eerie appearance.

Goku felt his heart pumping in his throat and into his skull. Nobody should outlive their children. He had seen more violence than any ordinary human being could ever imagine, but there was something terribly obscene and immoral in losing one’s child: The abyss of agony and desperation tearing one’s soul apart, that inner void full of solitude, dejection and bitter resentment; finding oneself suddenly hating life and not knowing how to keep on going, only an aberrant desire to die seething within.

“Don’t worry, my son, we’ll be at home very soon”, Goku whispered with a broken voice. Then he blasted off into the sky, leaving a white trail behind as he flew at full speed, wanting to leave behind as well his somber contemplations.

***************************

Upon recognizing from the distance the familiar surroundings where his little cottage was situated, Goku felt his anxiety build up at the perspective to have to confront his wife under such tragic circumstances.

He shivered, perspiring profusely; feeling all his muscles tense all of a sudden and his heart racing wildly in his chest. He began to draw desperate and rapid intakes of air into his lungs, which only served to make him feel lightheaded and lose his balance, and he staggered dangerously in midair, nearly crashing to the ground.

After landing a few meters apart from the house, right behind some shaggy bushes, he reached out with his senses to locate Goten. The boy was still at the lookout and his ki was very low; seeming that Dende, too exhausted after healing the two full blooded saiyans, had not fully recovered his energies yet. Goku gave out a slight sigh of relief; better that way, given Chichi’s insane obsession for Gohan, things were going to be very nasty.

Goku closed his eyes, breathing deeply and stood there for a while vainly trying to calm himself down; he was conscious to be postponing the inevitable, but he needed some more minutes to gather enough courage.

Finally, with heavy and hesitant steps, he headed toward the silent house; the languid beauty of the nature around lost to him, unable, in his nervousness, to perceive the magnificent colors of the autumn, all those amber, reddish and brownish of all shades; or the rich and sensuous scents of chestnuts, juniper and humid soil.

All his mind could register was his own slight gasps and the crunch of the dry leaves under his heavy tread- the very sound of doom to Goku‘s ears -feeling, with each step ahead, like going on his way to the most terrible of the hells. And he clutched tightly the body in his arms, curling his fingers compulsively around the already rigid flesh, and pulled it closer against him as if looking for some kind of support or shield against the imminent storm that was awaiting for him.

Once in front of the main entry, he inhaled deeply again before pulling on the doorknob, with difficulty. He hissed at the creak of the hinges; every sound, even the faintest, making his heart leap in his chest and his hairs stand on end; and he became more aware than ever of the irrational and absurd terror his so-called wife roused in him.

Fighting an instinctive, sudden impulse to run away, Goku stealthily stepped forward, along the silent hallway, in the direction of the living room.

Halting right upon the threshold, Goku let his gaze flicker around until spotting the woman; who was sat on an armchair with the back to the door.

“Chichi.” He whispered softly, through quivering lips, to make noticeable his presence. It was evident, by the abruptness of her movements as she rose from her seat and the nervous and insistent tapping of her foot on the floor, that she was not precisely in the best of the moods.

Without facing her husband, she clenched her fingers into fists and, after agonizing seconds of tense silence, spewed out her frustration and resentment in a torrent of recriminations and insults: “It was about time. I’ve been the whole day in the kitchen working like a slave, for nothing, while you were wasting your time with that bastard again. And now you’re dragging my sons along with you.” She stopped just for a split second to gasp for air to immediately yell again at him.

“Don’t you dare to apart Gohan from his work, leave him alone, he’s a normal boy not a lazy ass like you, because…” The words froze in her lips the very moment she turned around to look at her husband; the furious expression on her face was swiftly replaced by another of worry and anxiety at the lamentable sight before her bewildered eyes.

“My baby…what happened to my baby?” She hastily walked over, a hand reaching out to tenderly stroke Gohan’s hair. Then she looked up to cast an accusatory glare upon her husband.

“Don’t stand there like a twit, come on, take him upstairs, his wounds need to be healed, quickly!” Distress and reproach were the predominant emotions in her high-pitched voice, but Goku remained impassive and a mix of disbelief and suspicion flashed across her face for a second as she locked eyes with him. Those tears, confined in the depths of Goku’s onyx pupils, struggling, in vain, to run free, were dreadful heralds of something she was certain she did not want to hear.

“Chichi…he’s dead…and cannot be revived with the dragon balls, his soul had been destroyed”, Goku managed to mumble through tremulous lips.

Stepping backwards on shaky legs, she shook her head, while pouring ardent tears, mutely mouthing: ’no, no, no…’, as her eyes mirrored the look of profound sadness and anguish of her husband. Then she fixed her stare on Gohan’s pallid face, looking frantically for an evidence which proved that Goku had lied, that it was nothing but a cruel joke, only to be crushed by the bitter evidence that all sign of life had been drained from her son. And all she could do, at that juncture, was to bring a hand to her chest at the smoldering pain stabbing her heart, while releasing a strangled scream, before passing out cold on the carpeted floor.

Goku furrowed his brow in hesitation for some seconds, but he finally left, heading up the stairs and, bursting into Gohan’s bedroom, he laid his precious burden on the modest bed.

The darkness of the place was only disrupted by some weak beams of light breaking through the gaps of the closed blinds, making possible to vaguely discern the outlines of the objects.

Goku looked at his stretched arms, now orphan of their burden, so empty, so useless…and, closing his eyes, he embraced himself tightly, swaying the upper half of his body from side to side while trying to void his mind of thoughts and emotions of any kind. The meager console provided by that action promptly vanished as a chill run up his spine; the sole idea of leaving his son alone into such ghostly penumbra suddenly appeared like an unforgivable felony. So, letting heavily fall his arms at his sides, he moved to lift up the blinds.

The creamy light of the autumn evening streamed inside, bathing the whole place in a golden glow. But the atmosphere was too oppressive and Goku opened the window; a soft, refreshing breeze blew in, merrily dancing between his locks and tickling his skin, but he sighed in dejection as he loomed toward the bed to plant a tender kiss on his son’s forehead, before leaving the chamber.

Once back in the living room, Goku picked up his fainted wife and, after placing her on the couch, he started to gently shake her back and forth, whispering her name, until she started to regain consciousness. A feeble moan escaped her parted lips, as she slowly opened her eyes. Chichi blinked several times; confusion etched across her face for an instant, swiftly replaced by an angry frown as the recent events flashed painfully across her mind.

Gritting his teeth, she glared at her husband, who looked like a helpless child. But pity was not precisely the sentiment such image was stirring in her; all she could feel was a profound, blind hate, outwardly manifested in the form of spastic tremors, wracking her whole body.

“Chichi, are you feeling right?” And the angst-ridden tone of that vacillating voice was the final straw to make her unleash all that wrath which was consuming her whole self. As usually, she let her most primal emotions take control over herself, her rational mind going into short-circuit.

She abruptly rose from the couch like a Fury from hell, her features reddened and contorted in a grimace of mixed anger and insanity, and, grabbing Goku’s collar with both of her hands, she began to shake him violently. He just let her do, with a look of defeat and resignation plastered on his face.

“You, coward, you let my son die and have the nerve to ask me if I’m feeling right!” Her tone was louder and more enraged with each word spat from her mouth and, letting him go, she curled her fingers into fists to punch him on the chest; all the adrenaline released in her agitated state multiplying her force to almost superhuman heights.

“Give me back my son, bastard, make him come back, useless piece of shit!” She had turned into a rabid wolf, striking, yelling and sputtering the most outrageous and hateful insults she could think of. She kept on like that for a long while, but when her throat started to get sore and her voice became hoarse, the screams subsided; hits never ceasing, though.

Goku stood immobile, silent, with downcast eyes, stoically enduring Chichi’s frenzied attack, knowing that hurting and making others more miserable was the only way she could find some relief. And none of her actions really bothered him in the least.

But then, stopping the barrage and throwing the coldest of the stares Goku had ever seen, she snapped : “It’s your fault. You only brought suffering and misfortune into his life.”

“Chichi…”, he dimly trailed off; the hurtful statement causing him to flinch on shaky legs.

“Don’t you dare to deny it”, she scornfully blurted out, accentuating each word on purpose, “you burdened him with a responsibility no child at such tender age should be forced to bear. And after that, you abandoned him when he needed you the most; without thinking, without even care what that could possibly mean to him, how guilty and unworthy he felt. For years, he spent every single night crying, calling you and begging you pardon in his nightmares, blaming himself for your death and believing you didn’t want to come back because you didn’t love him anymore. You hurt your own son beyond repair and now you let him die, and it’s all your fault.”

A sensation of claustrophobia arose deep within Goku’s psyche, growing as Chichi’s incense tirade went on. His vision became blurry and the room seemed to get smaller with every passing instant; a cold sweat bathed his skin and he started to hyperventilate and gasp like a fish out of water, suddenly under the bizarre impression that the air, thick with the loud tone of her voice and the venom exuded with her words, had become irrespirable.

He tried to resist an urgent, uncontrollable impulse to run away, but could not help to look around for a way out; and when he noticed that all the windows were locked his loud breath became much more labored, as he involuntarily recoiled closer to the door.

He was painfully conscious that this sudden seizure, the hallucinations, were just cruel tricks his mind was playing on him because of his emotional exhaustion; he needed to regain control or he would collapse. So he took a deep breath and rubbed at his temples in circular motions, trying, as desperately as vainly, to cling to the scarce inner strength still left in him. The consuming pain and remorse, fueled by such crude words, causing him to fail miserably, tough.

But some of his combative nature still withstood, unyielding, in the form of an insistent, inner voice screaming, indignant, that she had no right to treat him with such cruelty, that he should make her keep her mouth shut and put her in her place.

After all, it was she who had come looking for him during that damned tournament all those years ago asking him to father her children. Goku was a pretty collected guy, but such bizarre, unexpected petition had rendered him shocked.

The idea of paternity never had crossed his mind before, not even for a fleeting instant; but it was becoming more and more appealing as Chichi explained how it would be arranged.

Goku had blinked in puzzlement, never having heard before about artificial insemination, but relieved, nonetheless, knowing that there was no need to have sex with a woman he did not feel attracted to. And then his mind had gone hyperactive, fantasizing about how exciting would be to convey all what he was, his knowledge and his love for the martial arts to his own son.

And his reaction had been the same as whenever he had sensed the smell of adventure: to blindly embrace the challenge in pure glee, without thinking in the consequences. And besides, the woman seemed so desperate and, at the same time, so determined, that, ignoring all the alarms buzzing insistently within his head, he even had acceded to marry her just to not disappoint and upset her traditional and conservative father.

He knew it was a mistake; but she had pleaded and begged on her knees, crying and menacing to take her own life. And Goku with his inveterate habit or, more precisely, necessity to please everybody, simply had no heart to refuse. And since then, his life had been nothing but a big and terrible lie, just to please the same woman that was treating him so unfairly.

What a fool he had been. He sighed, consigning that seditious little voice to the most hidden recesses of his spirit, soon silenced by his sense of culpability. Chichi was right, she was just voicing out loud the truth; that he was the only blameworthy , for his failures, irresponsibility and egoism. He deserved the punishment; all her bile, hatred and abuse, and much more than that.

He did not know for how long his wife had been ranting and raving, but finally, fatigue overcame rage and Chichi retreated some steps from Goku, covering her face with her hands to cry bitterly. Meanwhile, Goku remained immobile, wordless, with a desolate feeling at his heart, watching her and not sure of what to do. He was positively certain that no apologize, no word of condolence or console would do any good; knowing Chichi, they would only sound hollow, false, even insulting.

Minutes, which felt like an eternity, passed and the heavy silence, only disrupted by the woman’s sobs was starting to become intolerable; but, suddenly, a distant creak reached Goku’s sensitive ears, startling him and, stepping closer to his wife, he reached out, gently grabbing her forearms.

“Chichi, please, try to calm down a little, Goten is coming.” Goku pleaded in a whisper; the weak and low tone of his voice barely concealing his increasing anxiety. Without a look, without a word, the woman twisted around; tears silently, but relentlessly flowing from red-rimmed, exhausted eyes.

Goku knew it wasn’t fair to ask her to repress her emotions in a moment like that. Hell! Even him, the very epitome of self-control and fortitude was on the verge of a nervous breakdown; but he feared that his volatile wife, in such a state of hysteria, would only make matters worse. It was going to be traumatic enough for Goten to find out about his brother’s passing away; he needed no additional motive of distress.

Goku sighed deeply as his son made his entrance. Goten’s radiant countenance, his carefree attitude, the natural, pure joy his whole self emanated…all of it seemed so tragically out of place. And Goku felt an icy cold freezing his heart, wondering if his son would ever be the same again from now on.

“Dad! I knew you’d win!” Goten exclaimed in a jovial tone, with a toothy grin spread across his young face as he advanced to hug his father. But he paused halfway, shocked at Goku‘s worried expression. Why did he seem to be so upset? Then, Goten glanced at his mother, who had her back turned to him, and when he noticed the shakes wrecking her body, he supposed it was out of sheer rage.

An awkward silence filled the room as Goten fixed an inquiring and apprehensive gaze on Goku. Uneasiness started building in the pitch of his stomach after a thorough scrutiny of his father; his initial assumption of having step into another of his parents’ arguments rapidly dismissed. He may not be the smartest of the guys, but he was not either so obtuse as not to realize that something serious had happened.

Usually, when his mother was going through one of her tantrums, his father used to take the verbal, and occasionally physical barrage, in silence, shrugging with indifference or, at the most, giving an embarrassed grin. But the scene before his young and perplexed eyes was totally surreal, as eerie as unexpected.

His father usually stood firm, always looking people straight in the eyes with that clean gaze and that honest expression that were his distinctive trademark; irradiating an aura of confidence and an overwhelming vitality which could charmed even the coldest of the souls. So unlike this pathetic stranger with his head hanging down, hands wriggling and shoulders drooped and bent forward.

The faint light of the evening cast a ghostly glow upon the defeated figure and Goten furrowed his brow and gasped, feeling the air rush from his lungs and his stomach tighten, as he finally realized what had been disturbing him: The light had vanished; that pure and powerful luminosity Goku naturally poured, turning the world around brighter and warmer.

Goten drew a deep breath of air, torn between his natural curiosity and a sudden sensation of anxiety; he needed but dreaded to know what could possibly be so terrible as to cause such devastating effect.

“Dad?…Mom…Something wrong?” Goku cringed, feeling his whole body stiffen at the slight tone of alarm of Goten’s voice. Since the demi-saiyan entered, Goku had stayed petrified; he simply didn’t know how to break the news without breaking as well Goten‘s heart. Goku was dreading to face his son’s grief, and he suddenly felt like being crushed under an excruciatingly heavy weight. For a brief instant, he turned his face and closed his eyes to calm his nerves. But he quickly gazed back at his son, slowly pursing his lips to speak.

“Dende didn’t tell you?”, Goku asked; the weak tone and the lack of self-assurance in his voice was not precisely having a comforting effect, but the oddness of the question took Goten by surprise and he shifted and furrowed his brow, while looking at his father intently, more confused than nervous.

“Dende?…He told me that you and Vegeta had finished the bastard…but..” He remained pensive for a split second, seeming to ponder something before speaking again.

“He looked more serious than usual, but I didn’t pay much attention, I came here as fast as possible to celebrate your victory. But, what‘s the matter?” Silence was the only response, and Goten scowled in slight irritation; but suddenly, faint moans reached his ears and he averted his piercing gaze from his hesitant father to lay incredulous eyes upon her mother.

“Mom, why are you crying?” His voice sounded soft and yet strained, permeated with unequivocal overtones of despair. But the woman stayed motionless, irresponsive, so immerse in her desolation that nothing else was relevant.

“Dad?”, he implored with impatience after interminable moments of tense silence.

“Goten, you should take a seat,“ his father said, walking up to him and reaching out a hand to pat the young man’s shoulder. But that gesture, instead of soothing him, just served to unnerve him even more.

“I don’t want to sit, I want to know what the heck is going on.” He snapped loudly, fixing blazing, furious eyes in his father, who could only stare at him helplessly, unable to muster sufficient courage to speak frankly.

But it was his mother, who, suddenly snapping out of her trance, spun to face him, and with a frown of intermingled anger and agony, spluttered:

“Gohan is dead and this brainless coward does not even have the guts to tell you.”

Goku gawked, under a frown, at her cruelty, with incredulity and, also, a profound sorrow for his son; her grief was no excuse to such behavior, such ruthlessness. Even the most ferocious beast would die to save its offspring, but this woman didn’t care at all for her son’s feelings. It seemed as if the consuming anguish and rage for Gohan’s death had totally and utterly annihilated her humanity, leaving no trace of her maternal instincts.

Then something clicked inside Goku’s head, and for the first time, he could understand her, suddenly feeling a profound pity: She, Chichi, was not a woman, nor a wife, nor an individual per se; she had simply been Gohan’s mother, never showing such same - oppressive- love for Goten. Even before Gohan came to this world, since her most tender age; that was all she had wished, what she was born for. And now that Gohan was dead she had lost, along with her dreams, joy and hopes, her identity. Now she was nothing but an empty shell, a mere container of sorrow and hate.

“Chichi! Please, not like this…” Goku implored in a broken voice, while glancing sourly at the woman; but he immediately turned to look at his son, who had stayed speechless, bewildered, his mouth and eyes widely open in skeptical disbelief.

Goten looked intently at his father, “Dad, that…that cannot be true…”, he trailed off with an infantile tone of voice, as he tried to convince himself that he was just in the middle of a bad dream.

An expressive silence was the only reply and Goten’s eyes began to well up.

Gohan, dead?…It was impossible, the sole idea was ludicrous, unbelievable.

But the expressions on his parents’ faces told otherwise and he felt a crack deep within his heart. Gohan had been not only his brother, but also a father during the first seven years of his life. And suddenly a heartbreaking howl emerged from the depths of his soul, making all the walls tremble. “NOOOOO!”

He sensed Goku’s powerful but slightly trembling arms wrapped tightly around him, but this time he did not feel safe nor protected. His father shushed him, whispering tenderly his name, but such gesture was not comforting at all; it was nothing like in his childhood when every time he had a nightmare that soft and amorous voice swept his terror away lulling him to sleep.

All he was able to feel at that point was an inner cold, a sensation of abandonment; he was again a three year old, but this time lost and alone, without a shelter, without a home.

“Yes, he’s dead, my baby is gone, and it’s only his fault.”, Chichi snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Goku, with her face glowing red and flooded with tears.

Goten replied furiously, brusquely disentangling himself from his father embrace to look face to face at his mother.

“No, no, no…how can you say something so cruel? You can’t blame my dad.”

“Shhh…It’s Ok, son, let it be.” Goku knew those words were only motivated by her excruciating heartache. “Your mother is right.” Sighing, he unconsciously uncurled his tail from his waist; the furry appendage swayed slowly and sadly, before hanging limply behind him, catching Chichi’s attention, and she flew into a rage again.

“You, freak…“, she snarled, disgusted, then glared at her distraught son. “This sick monster forced your brother to fight, knowing Gohan didn’t like it. He just couldn’t leave him alone. Gohan only wanted to have a job and a nice life, never liked that madness. Unlike both of you, he wasn’t a sanguinary beast. So tell me, who’s the responsible of his death?”

Goku opened his mouth, he would not allow Chichi to insult her own son, but before he could say anything, Goten spoke, unable to contain his indignation.

“That’s not true! Gohan always fought to defend his friends and family because he knew it was the right thing. He was a hero and you’re dishonoring his memory with such false words. Gohan would never approve the way you‘re treating my dad, he doesn‘t deserve it.”

Chichi walked up to Goten and, frowning, snapped him in the face with all the force she could muster. Goten rubbed his cheek in silence, biting his lips, seemingly unable to get over his growing astonishment.

“Chichi!”, yelled Goku, this time in an almost authoritative tone; but paying him no heed, she looked daggers at her son.

“You stupid…Your father is just a scum, he should be the dead one, or better, both of you, but not my baby.” Then, after slapping him again, she dropped on her knees and started crying hysterically.

Goten, too hurt to reply to such cruel statement, and without even glancing at his father, just ran out and upstairs to Gohan’s room.

****************************

The distraught demi-saiyan stood by the doorway, not daring to come closer to the inert form on the bed and pressed his eyes tightly shut, shivering, as he tried to imagine himself like that: rigid, pale and cold, lying on that mattress, completely oblivious, insensible to the world around.

He could not help but to think that his mother was right, he should be the dead one. Gohan had been the smartest and strongest of the two, the good son, the caring one.

But he had been just a naughty, silly and lazy boy, wasting his time like a brainless adolescent who did not know what to do with his life. He had no vocation, no aspirations, no purpose.

But Gohan, on the contrary, was destined to do great things, he adored his job and was happy with his way of living. Science had always been Gohan’s passion; and immediately after his graduation Gohan had started working at CC. And he never ceased to talk about how stimulating and exciting was to work there, with Trunks. Gohan was fascinated with the ingenious and brilliant ideas of the CC. heir.

Damn! Gohan had tried to tell him about a new project he and Trunks had been working on; it had to be something really extraordinary and amazing for Gohan to seem so enthusiastic about it. But he had paid his elder brother no attention. Goten remembered, regretfully, to have yawned out of boredom and left flying through the window to hang out with one of his girlfriends.

Goten heaved a deep sigh, he did not remember when it had been the last time he and his brother had spent some time together in conversation, making confidences, sharing their problems and joys like they used to do when Goten was just a little kid.

Through clouded eyes, he gave a last look at Gohan, not wanting to stay there for any longer…No, that lifeless body was not his brother anymore. Gohan was that serene shine coming from curious eyes, that warm and understanding smile permanently gracing friendly features; brilliance and modesty, shyness and determination, patience, temperance, care...All gone forever.

Stifling a yelp, Goten walked out of the room, sitting on the landing at the top of the staircase where he could hear her mother insulting his father; her screams resounding all over the house. He covered his ears with the palm of his hands, pressing firmly, but to no avail; though he could not discern clearly the words; the unpleasant, piercing screeching reached his delicate ears with a vengeance.

He placed his hands on his lap in time to hear her mother telling his father to leave the house. Gotten clenched his fists in utter rage as his heart pounded violently, and he experienced for the first time what hatred really meant. She was smashing all his world to smithereens. Why was she being such a witch? Didn’t she know that it was precisely at such fateful moment when he needed his father more than ever? That he was the only balm to cure his broken heart?

When he saw his father tiredly heading toward the front door, Goten rose to his feet and ran down after him, unable to hold back his tears for any longer.

Goku was standing on the front lawn, his vacant gaze turned up to the dark blue firmament above, trying to find responses in the timid, early stars of the dying evening.

From the porch, Goten called him with tremulous voice, and Goku twisted to look at him. The boy looked so desolate, so terribly helpless, and Goku walked up to him; both men sitting on the wooden floor, sharing their sadness in silence.

**************************

Meanwhile Chichi had gone up to be with Gohan. She placed her hand on the doorframe for support, yelping and trembling at the sight of that formerly creamy skin now marred by purple expanses. After a deep breath, she walked with hesitant steps to lie down beside her son; and, holding tightly the limp form in her arms, she cried her heart out while planting desperate kisses all over the brutally injured face.

After a long while her loud, bitter crying abated and she watched that face in utter reverie and adoration, sweeping a lock of hair from her son's forehead with trembling fingers and feeling like dying inside. She shed some more tears, this time for herself, because her life had no meaning anymore.

She had only wanted to make true her most cherished dream: motherhood. Having been raised by his father, Chichi had never savored the unconditional love of a mother; she could only fantasize about how it would feel like, the sweetness of the caresses and kisses she so avidly yearned for.

Ox King had cosseted and spoiled her all her life, indulging her every whim; but she had always been imbued with the sensation of lacking something essential,

something which would have turned the world into the congruent place she guessed it should be. And that emotional void, that hunger for tender affection her father was

unable to provide, had awakened within her, at a very tender age, the desire to become a mother herself, so she could live through her children what providence had denied her.

But that, primarily, innocent and puerile wish, which had blossomed like a flower of hope in the midst of her heart; through solitary years had grown like weed, uncontrollably, deriving into an unhealthy obsession; and she had devoted all her energies and faculties, her whole self and existence to fulfill it at any price, willing to sacrifice everything else.

And when she first met Goku, Chichi had been dazzled, impressed at the young man‘s qualities: his courage, strength, honesty and joy of living, and his undoubted physical attractiveness. Not that she had any romantic inclination for him, but those were the attributes she had always wanted her children to be graced with; and she decided, in that precise moment, he would be the father of her kids.

That was the only reason why she had trained so hard during those three years after Goku’s departure; she was well aware that her only chance to meet that boy again and to caught his attention was entering a world tournament of martial arts.

Chichi exhaled a regretful sigh, looking through glassy eyes the unanimated features of her son, as her mind led her, cruelly and obstinately, through that painful journey to her past. Certainly she got what she wanted, a son. And she had lived those first years of the boy’s childhood under a false illusion of perfect happiness. But sometimes, during long nights of insomnia in his solitary bedroom, she could felt the heavy weigh of loneliness abruptly descending upon her, nagging at her heart, awakening a deep yearn; and she spent long hours looking at the empty space on her mattress, wishing to have strong arms to embrace her, to dissipate the coldness from her futile existence.

Goku and she did not have a marital relationship, they both had agreed on that from the very beginning. She even had obliged her ‘official’ husband to build their home in a secluded place, trying to keep him apart from all his friends, fearing they would discover the farce; being so strikingly obvious their mutual detachment, her indifference toward his ‘husband’ and Goku’s disinterest on her.

But she spent years trying to persuade herself that everything was right, that she could live like that, ignoring and denying herself those- licit and natural in any healthy woman -carnal and sentimental appetites. But that dissatisfaction only widened that emotional gap within, which her in return tried to full by becoming more possessive of her child, an asphyxiating and overprotective mother. It was a vicious circle: the more frustrated as woman the more ‘castrating’ as mother. Like a snowball becoming bigger and bigger in its way down, only leaving destruction behind: a devastated soul.

Her son had become more indispensable than the air she breathed, to survive, because she had renounced to anything else: It was her sun and her moon, the center of her universe, the only meaningful thing in her life; once that he had become real at last, a blissful little piece of life, her dear baby, it didn’t matter anymore to her to amaze the world by having the strongest of the kids; her only wish was to have him by her side, to feel him solely hers. That’s why she had refused categorically when Goku had suggested to start training the boy.

She had to recognize that Goku had been right when he had reproached her for making of his son an extremely timid and frightened child, and yes, she also recognized that the year her son had spent alone, ‘kidnapped’ by that green ‘delinquent’, had serve to strengthen the child’s character. But if ‘the incident‘, -as she used to referred to Raditz’s arrival- wouldn’t have turned their lives upside down, Gohan might be now a coward, but an alive one, and only hers.

She sighed, admitting to herself how terribly wrong she had been. Destiny should not be forced so abnormally, so desperately. If only she would have been patient enough to let life flow placidly, leisurely, at its natural pace, bringing its sweet fruits in their own time, when they were more delicious and gratifying; but her insane folly had led her to this desolate dead-end, cemetery of all her hopes and joys, where only the sour, revolting taste of bile awaited for her.

She should have made amends while she could; during that year she had been separated from her child, when the mirage of illusory happiness had vanished, chunked away by the ominous and powerful jaws of the crude reality, finally realizing that she was trapped in an existence she didn’t wanted anymore.

The idea of breaking a marriage which had been agonizing from the very beginning, to find a man who could give her true love and a real family, had crossed her mind more than once. But, victim of conventionalisms and repression, to her, divorce was not an option and she became more and more frustrated, developing a bitter resentment against Goku.

And when he was brought back to life, she just aggravated the situation by verbal and physical abusing him; the quarrels were continual, diary and she made sure to wait until Gohan returned from school to humiliate her husband in front of the child. She didn’t really believed her actions were out of malice, but of frustration. And Goku just put up with it, having more urgent and serious motives of preoccupation with the impending arrival of the androids.

And when the saiyan was killed again and announced his intention to remain in Otherworld forever, she thought that to be the solution to all her tribulations; she would be alone again with her son, without those obnoxious creatures her husband called friends, pestering around. There was no need to pretend anymore in front of them. It had been especially annoying to have to act as a plaintive, grief-stricken wife, worried sick for her ill husband when Goku had been affected by the heart virus, when in reality she felt nothing at all.

But only few days had passed after Goku’s death when she came to realize that Gohan was not her little baby anymore. Surely he still was a sweet and obedient son, but he was more independent as well, escaping to be with Piccolo and the rest of Goku’s friends whenever he had the chance, revealing in the console they provided; he missed so much his father and, being with the gang, the boy felt his father closer, almost as if he wasn‘t really absent.

And then Chichi, instead of learning from her past wrongdoings just worsened matters by plotting another of her unfortunate ideas, or to be more precise, another of her deliriums.

She went to the clinic where still some samples of Goku’s seed were stored, to be inseminated again. She just wanted desperately to relive the joy from those first years of Gohan’s childhood, and now that Goku was not around she could raise the baby as she pleased. She was really convinced that things would be different this time.

But she became conscious, very soon, of her tremendous mistake. She was older, more bitter and disappointed with the world, and terribly alone; she needed help, and with a preteen son and a little baby it was almost impossible to find a man willing to commit.

The newly born was just a stranger, a nuisance, a burden instead of a joy; and her boundless obsession for her eldest, which filled her heart completely, was a hindrance for establishing deep and true ties of affection with anybody else; even if that anybody was flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood.

Chichi’s detachment for Goten deepened as the boy grew, mostly because his great resemblance with his father, not only in his physical appearance, but in his character and personality either; the boy was so intrepid, independent, carefree and wild. She could not feel any affection for him, just the same resentment and coldness Goku had roused in her, a little more temperate, but sufficient to make their lives miserable.

Incessant tears, as sour as her somber contemplations, streamed down her face, dripping on Gohan’s shirt, and, for an instant, she could only watch almost mesmerized how the wet spot became bigger. Then she closed her eyes, nuzzling and snuggling against the inert form.

She knew she had been unfair and unnecessarily cruel to Goten; she was the only culprit of her misery. All her life had been nothing but a tortuous descent, a long succession of failures and unfortunate mistakes, each of them a step down to her self-concocted hell in which now she found herself irremediably imprisoned, awaiting until blissful death came to release her.

Some spasms wracked her body before she ran out of tears. But finally, her practical side took control again over her emotions; she had to keep busy herself to forget the intense pain and the desperation gnawing at the remains of her heart.

So she hopped out of the bed and, after stripping the corpse, went to retrieve a bottle of medicinal alcohol and a sponge, proceeding to clean and prepare the body in the traditional way. She would take care of her son properly, like she had always done.

****************

Meanwhile, Goten and Goku had been watching quietly as the vast expanse above their heads got darker and the sun was slowly swallowed by the golden skyline. Goku, putting an arm around his son’s shoulder, was the first to broke the serene silence.

“Goten, son, your mother’s too hurt, I’m certain she regrets everything she said.” His voice sounded weak, insecure; he didn’t believe in his own words, but didn’t know what else to do to comfort the boy.

Goten chuckled skeptically and shrugged, “She really meant it father, I know.”

“Goten…” Goku sighed, lost for words.

“No, dad, it’s true. I have always known, she always was so distant and harsh with me, while Gohan got all her attention and love. I‘m not complaining, just stating an obvious fact.” Goten tilted his head to look into his father’s eyes, as a sad smile tugged at his lips.

“I haven’t forgotten your surprise at knowing that my mother had been training me while you were dead, or the astounded look on your friends’ faces. All of you were persuaded, delighted, that she had changed for better; someone even said that time had dulcified her temper”, Goten let out a sarcastic snicker as Goku nodded his head in mute response.

“They should have been here at home, when I was alone with her; all the horrible things she said, the yells, the insults and the smacks; always angry at me because I was so alike you.” Goten’s voice was low, quiet, almost a whisper, matching the calmness of the nature around, but Goku could feel the overtones of despair and the intensity of the bitterness contained in those words.

“Son, I’m…I’m so sorry for being so selfish. I should have been here for you.”

“It’s ok, dad, you didn’t even know about my existence. And Gohan always was there, standing up for me and for you. He always gave me all the affection I was denied by her, so it wasn‘t such bad.”

Goten exhaled a barely audible sigh, his voice trembling slightly as he pronounced his brother‘s name, with his eyes fixed on the ground, before speaking again, “Do you want to know why she really trained me? She didn’t want Gohan to fight; she told me we shouldn’t let Gohan to be exposed to any peril; whenever a new enemy appeared I should deal with them. I was so naïve that I felt my heart explode with pure joy, thinking that, for once, she was so proud of me, to the point to trust me with such honor. It wasn’t until much later when I finally understood the real significance of her words: if someone had to die that should be me, not my brother.”

“Son…”

“Don’t worry, dad. I can live with that. But now, without Gohan…I wouldn’t know how to keep on going if you leave me too. She has no right to dump you. Damn, she’s your wife; how does she dare?” Goku looked at him frowning, he had never saw his son so enraged, and he did not like it; such negative feelings against his mother would do no good to either of them.

“Goten, don’t blame her, please.” Goku spoke using a conciliatory tone of voice hoping, that way, to appease the young man.

Then he went quiet, doubting for a brief instant whether or not to tell Goten about his agreement with Chichi; should he explain him that she was just a frustrated woman, victim of a compulsion stronger than her willpower, which had conditioned her whole existence, hence the wrong decisions she had taken in order to reach what any other human being so legitimately sought: their deserved portion of happiness? But he decided against it. It wasn’t the moment for such revelations and definitively it would not help Goten to understand her mother‘s behavior.

So he simply pulled his son against him, holding him tightly, sensing how the boy trembled; his breath becoming steady, as his rage lessened. Goku felt a few warm tears dropping on his bare chest and he stroked Goten’s hair soothingly.

“But, this is your home too. Please, stay, I need you.” It was heartbreaking to see her son like that and not being able to grant his desperate request, but he had no other choice.

“No Goten, she’s right I will only bring you disgrace and pain. I must leave.”

“No, that’s not true. Let me go with you.” His sobs were getting louder and louder and his body had started to convulse in incessant spasms, unable to contain for any longer all those painful emotions which had been building up since he came back home.

“Shh, Goten, you must stay. She needs you.” Goten went limp in his father’s arms, feeling his mind go numb. He was unable to understand any of his father‘s words; why was he rejecting his own son, compelling him to stay with a woman who hated him, who wanted him dead? Had the man gone crazy all of a sudden? And why did his chest hurt so bad? He could only gasp, raising his eyes to look, in shocked disbelief, at his father.

“Why?” He knitted his brow while Goku stared him back with a perplexed expression on his face, “Why should I care about her needs? And mine, father? Who cares about what I need? You’re going to run away like always, leaving others behind to take care of the mess.”

Goten resumed his hysterical crying, repented the very moment his harsh reproach escaped from his lips and he clung tightly to his father, nuzzling apologetically against his chest. Goku just let him vent all his pain, meanwhile kissing and caressing his hair softly.

Few minutes passed before the demi-saiyan, a little more composed, murmured a quiet ’sorry’. Goku cupped Goten’s chin with his hand to look him in the eyes; the young man flushed, ashamed of his outburst and, after wiping his teary eyes with the back of his hand, he held his father‘s stare.

“It’s Ok, son. I would stay if I could, but that’s impossible right now. You know how unstable your mother can become, she is capable to do something too extreme, so please, I need you to do this for me, son; watch over her.” His father’s eyes were full of remorse and Goten just nodded his head in silent agreement.

“And I’m not going to disappear from your life, I promise. Once the funeral takes place you can come to see me whenever you want; but for now your mother cannot stay alone.”

“But what are you going to do? Where are you going to stay?” Goku smiled sadly at the concerned tone of his son’s voice, ruffling the young man‘s hair.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ve lived by my own before. I will have you know where I am staying. And very soon we’ll meet again, now I need some time alone to ponder things. Ok?”

Goten assented, resigned, and standing upon shaky legs he bid his farewell; Goku remained immobile and pensive under the stars, watching as his son staggered toward the tiny house; feeling so insignificant, so worthless and lonesome there outside, in that big, cold world.

TBC

Damaged Souls 1

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 05:46:06 GMT

Disclaimer: I don’t own DB/Z/GT

WRNING: this is YAOI (Pairing: Vegeta/Goku)

Many thanks to my beta-reader Chibigoku for her generosity and enthusiasm.

AN: This story takes place eleven years after Buu, Goten and Trunks are over eighteen, so, for things that will happen in later chapters, no minors involved. (But they won’t be a couple here). Gohan never married Videl, so Pan doesn’t exist. Bra doesn’t exist either, but I can’t reveal why yet, it will be explained in next chapters.

DAMAGED SOULS

Chapter One

Be careful what you wish for, they say…because you may get more than you bargained for.

The adage probably had crossed Goku’s mind, now that all his dreams had come true in the form of a dreadful nightmare; what he had craved, waited for so long: the ultimate challenge; an unbeatable enemy; to meet the most powerful being in the universe.

After the initial excitement, that euphoria, that exhilarating rush of adrenalin that always made him feel so alive, providing a pleasure that could not be compared to any other sensation, all had turned to the worst…

***************

The day had started off as any ordinary day. At the crack of dawn both full blooded saiyans were in the gravity room, ready to start their training. (It had become a daily routine during the last eleven years, since one day shortly after Buu’s defeat, Vegeta made his appearance at the Son’s residence demanding Goku to go spar with him.)

They had been enjoying a fierce exchange of strikes for three hours, in what they used to call their warm-up exercises before starting for real, when Goku, feeling a slight nip at the back of his mind, suddenly paused and, wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, landed gracefully on the floor.

A grunt of annoyance rumbled in Vegeta’s throat, but when he saw the serious and concentrated look on Goku’s face, the prince swallowed the sarcastic retort that was about to pass through his lips.

He could so easily read each of Goku’s gestures and expressions, that no word, no explanation was needed to realize that the younger saiyan had detected a potential danger. So, after giving a curt nod in tacit understanding, Vegeta switched off the controls of the gravity machine and both men left the chamber.

Stretching out with his senses, Vegeta was assaulted, almost knocked, by the overwhelming force of an unfamiliar ki signal. But quickly, a clamor arose from each and one of his cells; it was his lust for battle, making his entire body tingle in sheer joy, sweeping away his initial astonishment and prevailing over any other emotion.

He closed his eyes slowly and licked his lips in anticipation, savoring the moment, and, drawing a deep breath, chuckled knowing that Goku was feeling the same; he could smell it oozing from every pore of Goku’s skin.

Opening his eyes, he let them flicker to meet Goku’s shining gaze, and smirking in complicity, blasted off into the vast, clear sky.

Soon the three demi saiyans, having abandoned their mundane activities the very same moment they had perceived that mysterious and massive source of energy, joined their fathers in their silent flight. All of them, even Vegeta, with identical grins of anticipation and excitement plastered on their faces.

Over the years, Vegeta had witnessed with disappointment how the wild, saiyan side of Trunks and Goten, so manifest during their childhood, had started to fade out once the boys reached puberty, overcome by their human nature. They barely trained anymore, having developed other interests; Goten had started to hang out with girls while Trunks, following in his mother‘s steps, wished to become a scientist.

But Vegeta still could be proud that in the moment of truth, when danger was prowling around, creeping in the shadows like a burglar, all of them, even Gohan, unable to disown the call of their blood, followed, embraced with passion his most primal and atavistic instincts. That perpetual fire boiling in his veins, driving them to meet the danger like insects attracted by a flame, to die a glorious, blazing death. They were and always would be warriors; they live for it, they would die for it.

Piccolo had appeared too, eliciting a grumble of distaste from the moody prince, who, mumbling something about useless weaklings, speeded up, to fly alone, some meters ahead from the group. The namekian did not even blink, unaffected by Vegeta’s attitude. He was the only one left of the gang who still shared that undying passion for fighting. All their human friends had renounced to their old adventurous life and had grown apart. Some of them had settled with their families, some of them had moved on to distant places. Time was an implacable enemy and had left its indelible mark, cooling off their hot blood and their battle-lust.

As the group approached the area where the signal came from, their breaths were becoming more and more arduous due to the suffocating, hot air. Surveying their surroundings, they found that their fate was waiting for them in one of the most inhospitable and desolate deserts of the planet. Yards and yards of red, alluvial terrain, extended far beyond the eyes could reach, smoking under an implacable sun. And nothing else, except a blurred silhouette; one could think to be one of those optic illusions that could be seen so frequently on hot and still days, in such arid regions, if not for the powerful aura it irradiated.

Coming closer, they took notice that the object of their worry was an anthropomorphic being with smooth, light-blue skin, totally bare of hair or fur; his lipless mouth was a narrow line, it looked like an incision made with a knife; instead of nose he had a wide crease, one could even find it comical if not for the two tiny red eyes glowing like sizzling embers, which gave him a rather malevolent appearance.

A priory, and despite his peculiar aspect, the creature had not seemed much of a threat; he was bulky and taller than all of them, even towering over Piccolo; and, certainly, it had an impressive power level, but nothing that they were not able to handle. All of them had the certainty that, soon, the ugly being would be biting the dust, begging for his life. So all of them had laughed at his stupid arrogance, when the humanoid had introduced himself as Hakaisha, the destroyer, making clear his intentions to kill them all and reduce the planet to ashes.

Except Goku; he had remained serious and silent. That voice in the back of his head always on alert during battle, told him otherwise. Not only this being’s aura was made of negative energy and his strength was greater than it appeared; the younger saiyan had caught only a glimpse of the real thing and almost stumbled, overwhelmed by it. But there was something more, something concealed, dark and dangerous, that Goku was unable to detect because the beast had lifted an almost impenetrable barrier around his mind.

But the most unsettling, blood-curdling thing had been to experience for just a second, before the monster was aware to be mentally scrutinized, that he had no conscience, scruples or principles of any kind, no soul. Not even Cell or Buu or any other enemy they had confronted in the past was so unemotional, so inhuman, deprived of any kind of feeling or empathy. If they could not beat him then they were all doomed. All Goku could perceive from him was a necessity to satiate some primal instincts and appetites, nothing else.

But when he had shared his concerns with his companions, warning them, begging to be cautious, their innate pride and arrogance had prevailed over any other consideration, and Goku’s apprehension went totally ignored. But who could blame them? Hell, he was the first devoured for his insane bloodlust, wanting nothing else than starting the onslaught.

But it was Vegeta who took the initiative after scathingly reproaching the younger saiyan his cowardice, (Goku just shrugged expecting it. In the peculiar friendship both saiyans had built over the years, all those rebukes, cutting retorts and insults had remained just as a trademark of the prince, a habit difficult to erase; but with no real intention to hurt, quite the contrary, it could be traced a tone of affection, one even could say tenderness, subtly veiled under the halfhearted harshness.)

Then, after pinning them all into place with a feral glare, forbidding any kind of interference, the prince charged against the creature. All of them sighed, except Piccolo who grunted his disapproval and annoyance at being ordered around, frowning and folding his arms, (He had not overcome his distaste for the prince after so many years as allies. They never had gotten along well, there were too many similarities between them and as they say, alike poles repels each other. But Piccolo could never forgive Vegeta for stealing from him Goku‘s affection, for taking his place in Goku’s heart. Goku had been his first and only true friend, someone who had trusted him like nobody else. Not even Gohan, who was like a son to him, had shown him such blind faith and warmth; but everything had changed when the prince stormed into their lives.)

Meanwhile, the demi-saiyans‘ minds were occupied, too, with their own reflections. They knew very well what would happen: Vegeta in his compulsive necessity to assume the leadership, to feel he was in charge, to show he was capable of handling the situation without anybody else’s help, would let his arrogance take the best of him. As always, he would tend to overestimate his abilities and power, and to underestimate his enemy’s. When he’d become aware of his mistake and start to get beaten and, worst of all, humiliated, he would release all his wrath, becoming an enraged killing machine, aggravating the situation. And Goku would have to intervene to fix the mess, saving the day and getting all the appraisals. And Vegeta would be keeping a grudge against Goku for weeks.

Trunks sighed deeply; he would be the one to have to deal with an infuriated (more than usual) prince. There would be destruction of furniture and unjustified aggressions to the CC. employers, (fortunately, his grandfather would deal with people’s complaints, sues, and resignations, paying bills and hiring new people.) Trunks shuddered, suddenly dreading the day he would have to take charge of the familiar business and contemplated, for just a second, the idea of using the dragon balls to ask for eternal life for his grandfather.

But the worst would be having to hear for hours the constants imprecations, insults, curses and rants against Goku. And Trunks deeply hated it because since he first met him, he had developed a special affection for the taller saiyan; his cheerful and jovial character, so different from his father’s coldness, and that irresistible charm the earth-raised saiyan showed so liberally but unconsciously poured around, had always drawn him to the man.

Later, would come the depression and the moping. Trunks had been utterly shocked the first time he witnessed such unexpected behavior from his arrogant father; but he realized that even Vegeta needed a friend or at least someone who could stand him. And Goku was the only one capable of that.

Vegeta was unable to be apart from the other saiyan for long periods of time, so, inevitably, he would go looking for him to spar as if nothing had happened, and things would return to normal. But before that happened, life would be hell for the CC residents.

All those musings faded into oblivion as they watched, incredulously, how the creature seemed to be immune to any attack. At first, Vegeta had been striking merely with his fists, mainly to determine the real extent of his rival’s physical force, to see how he moved in battle and to find possible weak points. But the enemy did not even bother to duck or block the oncoming strikes; the impacts seemed to have the same effect as simple caresses on him.

As time slip away, Vegeta’s thin patience seemed to decrease at the same rate his anger grew deeper. He powered up to level two, hitting harder and faster. His breath was starting to become laborious and uneven, and thick drops of sweat ran profusely from his forehead. But his opponent, showing no sign of fatigue or pain, remained in the same position, with his arms folded over his chest, and a scornful look in his devilish eyes, taunting him with that smirk of superiority which seemed permanently frozen on his lips.

Being beaten where it hurt the most, his sense of pride, Vegeta, pausing, clamped his mouth tightly and glared at his foe with contempt. He would not tolerate to be ridiculed and humiliated by such an unworthy piece of trash; so, hovering up in the sky several inches above his rival’s head and roaring like a beast, he unleashed all his growing rage in the form of a massive rain of ki blasts.

The prince smirked, thinking to have caused a fatal harm; but once the dense cloud of smoke and dust started to vanish, Vegeta’s expression of satisfaction was replaced by other of shock and disbelief when he realized that all his attacks had been in vain. The creature was still standing there, unfazed, impervious to everything, without a scratch, without a mark, he had not even broken a sweat.

But, composing himself quickly, Vegeta powered up to level three and delivered another barrage of potent shots, and then other, and other…until he was so drained of energy that, unable to keep aloft for any longer and reverting to his normal form, with a great deal of effort he landed on the floor, panting heavily.

Taking advantage of Vegeta’s tiredness the creature threw a brutal counterattack; despite his corpulence, he moved at an unmatchable speed, giving no time to his opponent to react. Vegeta, unable to block any of the hits, was being continuously smashed into the ground, but nothing else than small gasps passed through his lips. He always staggered to his feet, paying no heed to the excruciating pain jolting through his body. Finally with a violent strike across the head, Vegeta crashed against the heated soil and lay there semi-unconscious.

The others had remained watching the battle from afar as Vegeta had commanded, being rendered immobile and speechless, mistrusting their own eyes. They could not understand how easily Vegeta had been beaten, when e his ki could be sensed still flaring at maximum. Trunks ran to give him a senzu bean while the others, brushing off their shock, started to fight the beast.

Time fled, along with their strength and hopes. Nothing had worked; nor the five saiyans ascended at their maximum plus Piccolo joining all their forces, nor the mystic powers of Gohan, nor the fusion Gotenks. Goku had even tried a Genki dama, but at that point he was too weak to collect the sufficient energy, and there were not any more senzu beans left.

Too late, had they realized that their attacks didn‘t cause any harm, only serving to strengthen their foe instead. At first, they had thought that his skin acted as some sort of shield, repelling their blasts; but its real function was to absorb all the energy that impacted on the surface. So they were nurturing him with every new attack; while they were in a lamentable state.

They were certain he had only made use of a minuscule fraction of his energies but his strikes were more painful than nothing they had experienced before.

It had become evident that this hideous being was toying with them, finding a sickening pleasure in inflicting to his victims as much suffering as possible before delivering the definitive ‘coupe de grace’. And this conviction had made them lose all their confidence.

But if they still had a little faith in their possibilities, it vanished at the terrible revelation that this creature had the power to destroy not only their bodies but their souls. Being killed by one of his blows would mean total annihilation; no trace, not even a little speck or atom would be left of them, not in this world and neither in otherworld.

A visceral fear, born from the guts and distilled along with every drop of sweat, filled the air. A fear greater than life itself. So thick that it was almost tangible. It had spread like fire through their bodies, burning all their insides, to nest in the depths of their hearts. But it did not refrain them to keep on fighting until their last breaths.

Even Goku was experiencing, for the first time in his life, the bitter taste of defeat, convinced that all was lost and there was nothing he could do. Except Gohan, who had taken the last senzu bean a little while ago and was still able to oppose resistance, Goku was the only one left standing upon his feet, though hardly. He was wobbling, weak due to the blood loss; only his willpower and his stubborn determination kept him from collapsing.

Panting roughly, he looked around, letting his cloudy eyes wander over the desolate scene: scattered on the ground like ragged dolls, the battered bodies of his unconscious companions: Piccolo, Goten, Trunks, Vegeta… all of them, fallen, beaten.

His heart skipped a few beats, and, swallowing thick, he clamped his eyes tightly shut in a childish and absurd attempt to deceive himself with the illusion that if he could not see it then it wasn’t real and nothing of this had happened. But the poignant images flashed through his mind incessantly, haunting him; and the harsh stench of blood hung heavily in the air, invading his nostrils, making it impossible to forget. Suddenly, not knowing exactly why, memories of his combat with Radditz filled his mind.

It had been disgusting to find that someone who had claimed to be his brother, his family, his own blood, had no dignity, no honor. He had so shamelessly showed such cowardice begging pitifully for his life when he had been defeated. Maybe that’s why Goku had never felt any regret or repentance for causing his death.

Goku shot his eyes open; he had never been a coward, he would not act like his brother. He would confront death like any other enemy: standing tall and proud, head up, looking at its very face with defiance, without concessions.

But he could not help a sudden, stinging pang of remorse, believing that he had, somehow, failed everybody. He was not capable of finding a way out of this situation. This time he could not save them.

But what had he expected? To suddenly attain a new level to amaze everybody, or to come with a genial master plan to prove he still was the best, to save the day again and be the hero? All of his past deeds, his heroic acts…had they been performed with the only purpose to get praise and admiration? Had he been always as vain and presumptuous as now he seemed to be from this new perspective?

He had never felt such necessity to question himself and his motivations until now. What had really moved him to save the planet? Had he given preference to his enjoyment and his prestige as a warrior over the wellbeing of his loved ones?

Goku searched deep within himself and he discovered, ashamed of himself, that, in honesty, he did not know the answer.

Goku hissed, grimacing, not at the physical pain -he had become very accustomed to it- but at that frustrating sensation of impotence and rage that was swallowing him up. Then he spitted, trying to get rid of the taste of blood that was mingled with another new and different flavor: desperation. For the first time in his life, he felt like a helpless child. And he cursed his damn vanity. But suddenly, a barely audible murmur reached his ears, interrupting the course of his somber thoughts

“Ka…Kakarooo…” The voice was as fragile and weak as the thread that held his owner to life. Vegeta, tilting his head to look in Goku’s direction, was scratching and digging his nails into the arid soil in an attempt to draw himself upon his hands and knees, but only to have his fingers and hands bruised and bleeding. Goku heaved a deep sigh in commiseration at the painful sight.

But not only Vegeta’s extreme suffering was reflected on the bloody mess that was his face; his undyingly combative spirit, his stubbornness and determination could be traced also, like a burning fire shining in the depths of those obsidian, ardent pupils, keeping him alive. And that arrogant attitude of constant defiance was almost comforting, because it was the only certainty in this crazy world.

Goku walked over to kneel before the crawling prince and gently laid a hand on his shoulder; Vegeta winced slightly at the touch and with a cough of blood the little strength still left in him escaped, and he collapsed in the dirt to lay on his stomach, unmoving.

Goku flipped over the limp body very carefully and let his gaze peruse all over it. Vegeta was all covered in blood, dirt and grime. His sweat-soaked hair hung down, clinging to his chiseled face and neck. Some locks, sticky with dried blood, were encrusted to his forehead and Goku reached out to pull them apart, but he paused, as Vegeta shuddered and whimpered in pain.

At first sight, he seemed to be in a very delicate condition; earlier, Goku had checked the two fallen demi-saiyans and Piccolo, and though they were unconscious it wasn’t anything as bad as this.

Surveying more meticulously the extent of the damage, he soon took notice of the critical state of the prince: his eyes were swollen and black, his nose was broken and his lips cut; every inch of his skin was covered with bruises, scratches and gashes, and blood flowed in rivers and dropped on the ground, forming a crimson pool all around him; the muscled chest rose and fell with difficulty and his breath was slow and ragged, possibly due to broken ribs and punctured lungs; the pulse was very weak, almost inexistent, his heartbeat was erratic and slow and, probably, his internal injuries were, at least, as serious as the rest.

Goku was certain that the prince was still alive only because of his stubbornness; anybody else in such condition would have already died. If the circumstances weren’t so awful, the younger saiyan could have laughed; the damn bastard, who else would dare to defy the very death so shamelessly and arrogantly?

Vegeta spitted out more blood, with eyes tightly closed, and let out a hiss before mumbling weakly: “Take us…to Dende…” Then, he arched his back but tried to look up ignoring the tiredness and intense pain bursting through him.

Goku shushed him, holding him in his arms firmly but gently, feeling, all at once, a burning pang jabbing his heart and a renewed admiration for the man. In spite of his state of frailty, the proud prince shifted in Goku’s lap to grasp some shreds still left of his gi top.

“Heal…fuse…” Goku, still a little disorientated from the beating, frowned trying to decipher the meaning of Vegeta’s words.

“Do you mean to fuse with me?” The prince nodded, exhaling a faint sigh. Goku almost smiled at Vegeta’s unexpected petition. But immediately a troubled scowl was drawn to his face.

“Vegeta, it won’t work, Gotenks’ attacks were ineffective, fused we’ll make him even stronger.”

Vegeta wished to have enough strength just to punch Goku’s face, or at least to release his rage in the form of a cutting retort; what a moment for Goku to play the dumbass. But he saved his remaining energy to try to chain some words into a coherent sentence.

“If we… are… fused the… spirit bomb may… work… nghh.“ Vegeta stammered between splitters of blood and grunts of pain.

Goku suddenly understood, and for the first time during those last, ominous hours a little light of hope seemed to break through the black desperation in which they all were immersed. Vegeta was a genius.

“Yes, we would be able to throw a deadly attack.” Once his last words left his mouth, Goku realized that the other man had passed out cold.

The younger saiyan brought two fingers to his forehead, praying to have enough energy to teleport himself and Vegeta to the lookout; fortunately, in an instant both appeared before a somber Dende, who had witnessed the dreadful events thanks to his powers; so no explanation was needed. After leaving his precious burden at the care of the young guardian, Goku returned to the battlefield.

Gohan was still fighting, only with his physical force, with his raw fists, to economize his energy, but he wasn’t being able to connect any blow into his target or to duck the attacks thrown at him; his skin was all purple and crimson with the bruises and the blood, and the mere act of breathing was becoming a very strenuous task. But, he was firmly determined to distract the beast as long as it would be necessary.

He had never lost his faith in his father. He had idolized his dad when he was only a shy and frightened child and, in his eyes, Goku still kept that golden aureole of hero, of god, of living legend. So when he noticed his father’s absence, Gohan was positively convinced that he had already conceived a plan to save them all.

When his father reappeared, Gohan, despite his pitiful state, turned to look at him smiling, raising two fingers in a sign of victory. Goku, nodding, with worry and pride, all at once, written on his face, went to pick up the two unconscious kids and Piccolo to teleport them to the lookout. He gave a last look to his elder son, who in that precise moment had crashed against the ground; but he left, knowing that Gohan would rise to his feet to keep on fighting until the end of his forces.

Dende was in deep concentration sending healing waves over the wrecked figure of the prince. Stopping in time the internal hemorrhage was his priority, being crucial to save Vegeta’s life. So when Goku returned with the three beaten bodies, Dende, without pausing in his task, instructed him to lay them on a huge, nearby bed. Goku did so and then, he sat down on the floor, leaning back his head against the side of the mattress. His ragged breath was the only sound floating in that serene space.

He inhaled deeply the clean air of the room, it was comforting even though still a slight scent of blood lingered. But at least there, the ambiance was fresh and relaxing, and he could forget that insufferable heat of the last past hours. Succumbing to exhaustion, Goku closed his eyes and dozed off.

When he roused some minutes later, Dende was scanning the children to determine the severity of their injuries. Fortunately their state wasn’t critical and they could wait until their parents were healed. So the namekian returned to Vegeta’s side.

Although Vegeta’s life was not in danger anymore, it was taking longer than expected to fully restore the prince‘s healthiness due to the extent of his damage and the limited powers of the young guardian.

Meanwhile, Goku had started to get nervous and was anxiously pacing back and forth across the lookout, in spite of his weariness, worried for his son. Being all their ki’s signatures intermingled in their enemy’s aura; from there, Goku was incapable to discern how much of Gohan’s energy still remained within him. He only knew that his son would not be able to resist for much longer.

Goku never had been the pessimistic type, always looking on the bright side of things, even in the hardest of times. But at this point, only negative, doomed thoughts were bombarding mercilessly into his mind. Healing Vegeta might completely consume Dende’s energy and it would be a long while before he could tend to Goku. And If both of them weren’t at their maximum, the fusion wouldn’t work. And knowing Vegeta, he wouldn’t be able to wait patiently for Goku to be in perfect shape. He would fly back to the battleground to die fighting; and that would be the end.

The end… For the first time in his life Goku knew what the word panic really meant. He had been dead twice, but instead of a traumatic experience, it had been a wonderful adventure. He had felt as happy and alive as ever. How could he be frightened or distressed knowing that an eternity full of new and exciting surprises and challenges was awaiting him, to share it forever with his sons, as the Kais had promised him?

But in the course of the last events, the seed of fear had been planted deep within him, and nurtured by desperation; it had grown to hold his heart in a tight grip. It never had occurred to him, before now, the possibility of being completely obliterated from existence, not being capable of feeling anymore, his soul lost forever…nothingness, the worst of any punishment. A chill made him tremble from head to toes, being suddenly assailed by a deep desire to run to Gohan’s side. And he mentally berated himself; he shouldn’t have allowed his own sons to undergo such peril.

It was painfully ironic to discover the amount of flaws he had without being aware, until now that he was looking in the very face of death. How he had deceived himself, blind by his stupid narcissism. He had installed himself comfortably and shamelessly on the pedestal the others have put him in. But he was starting to realize that pedestals were stupid, useless things, made of lies and all kind of trash, making oneself lose real perspective of people and things. When you cannot look others face to face, be at their level, and start to think yourself better than anybody else, idiocy has irremissibly taken control over you.

Yes, he had been nothing but an idiot believing himself the heroic role he had been assigned: the savior, a pure and selfless soul; when the naked and devastating truth was that he was a fraud, a complete failure as a father, friend and human being. And he wished with all his heart to be given a second chance to make amends.

Finally, after what Goku thought to be an eternity, Vegeta was again in possession of all his faculties and power. And, fortunately, Dende still kept enough energy to restore Goku’s strength. Without delay, the two saiyans had performed the ‘stupid little dance’, giving birth to the mighty Gogeta.

Upon agreeing with Vegeta’s wise suggestion to form the spirit bomb before teleporting back to the battlefield so they could catch the damn creature with its guard down; Gogeta, with his gaze lost beyond the horizon, after powering up to level three, was standing at the edge of the lookout with lifted arms, palms turned upward, gathering all the positive energy that was being sent from every corner of the universe. It would have been impossible without the help of the kais, who had asked all the inhabitants of the universe under their respective jurisdictions to collaborate.

Brilliant flashes of white energy ran through the skies to collide into the growing light-blue sphere that was suspended above the warrior’s head.

Gogeta’s unperturbed and vacant countenance was a mere illusion, a mask hiding a tormented being, torn between conflicting emotions.

In the past, every time both saiyans had fused, their opposed personalities, instead of colliding, complemented each other perfectly. A harmonious dichotomy confined within that amazing entity. Being usually Vegeta’s side the impatient and hot-blooded one, controlled and smoothed by Goku’s influence. But in this occasion, exceptionally, the roles had been reversed; the prince was the one keeping his head clear and cool, restraining Goku’s increasing anxiety and aborting the younger saiyan’s desperate attempts to teleport before the bomb was formed.

But before Goku would lose his nerves completely ruining their only chance to win, Gogeta had collected enough energy to deliver an effective attack and he rapidly returned to the battleground.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gohan lying on the ground. It was difficult to believe that such twisted, deformed and bleeding mass of broken limbs, raw flesh and dirt was a human body. He was seemingly unconscious because of the excruciating pain and the loss of blood.

Gritting his teeth with contained fury, Gogeta threw the huge ball at a very unimpressed creature, who rapidly reacted shooting a powerful ray right through the center of the giant sphere. But his arrogant and hideous expression was rapidly replaced by another of stupefaction and utter disbelief upon seeing how the bomb continued its unstoppable advance until engulfing him. Finally, the monster had been smashed into oblivion like the disgusting cockroach he was.

And then… nothing. And Gogeta erupted in a feral howl, feeling as if a part of his heart, the best part, had been ripped out of his chest leaving him incapacitated to feel any other emotion than agony and a deep anguish: No ki, no vital sign coming from the wrecked body of the demi-saiyan. Gohan was gone. Forever. Goku felt like dying a thousand terrible and painful deaths as bitter realization beat him hard: he would never meet his son again.

And Gogeta collapsed on the ground at the burning pang constricting his heart, his whole body convulsing while irradiating potent waves of energy, making the earth quake and roar. Then with a piercing, agonizing scream the two saiyans split up and lay on the ground surrounded by a dense cloud of smoke, debris and dust.

Vegeta was on his hands and knees panting heavily, trying to recover his breath, his mind too numb to process what had just happened. They were supposed to remain joined during thirty minutes, but he was sure that not more than twenty had passed.

Lifting his head, Vegeta looked around and when he spotted the younger saiyan, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a shiver ran up his spine at the heartbreaking scene performed before his eyes: Goku, grimacing, with all the pain of this world reflected on his face, was cradling the bloody corpse in his arms, humming softly a lullaby his grandfather used to sing at nights. And Vegeta didn’t know why such an awkward action, something that seemed so uncharacteristic from the younger saiyan, touched him so deeply, stroking a cord deep within his soul.

Meanwhile Goku was blind, mute and deaf to everything but his anguish. His heart was crying tears of blood, his soul was shattered and his entire world had been reduced to ashes, only pain being left. And the world was cold, and dark and crimson, like the blood that would not boil anymore through the veins of that lifeless body that he once had called son. And raising his empty eyes to the sky, he let them wander around, stupefied.

He was unable to understand why the planet, the whole universe had not ceased their course, or why the stars had not fallen down, or why the sun, the moon and the oceans had not stopped their movement at such great loss. Why the world had not been conquered by obscurity, now that the purest and brightest of the lights had been extinguished. And pain and wrath took what was left of his heart by assault.

And he started to power up, roaring like a wild animal, madness flashing in the depths of his hazy eyes. He gently laid the dead body on the soil and then, driven by an insane rage, blasted off into the sky.

Feeling suffocated as he flew, Goku gasped for air; and all of a sudden, he felt his body become as heavy as a rock. He released all the energy left in him with the vain hope to escape all those painful emotions; if he could stop feeling, if only he could die and be dissolved into oblivion, like his son, like his lost life…he unconsciously unleashed more and more of his growing wrath, and all that uncontrolled energy made the whole earth tremble.

Goku had lost, with his sanity, all dominion over himself and, like a hurt animal, was fleeing without thinking, unaware of his acts, only led by an irrational impulse. His mind was totally blank, he had no destination and no plan in mind, but in his blind fury he was pouring out more and more of his energy, blowing up everything and setting on fire all the land as he flew. If nobody stopped him, he was going to explode reducing the entire planet to ashes.

Vegeta had been witnessing with certain stupefaction the scene, like something unreal, a dream, or rather a nightmare; stunned, due to the range of emotions washing over him in such a little amount of time, being the predominant one, fear; a sheer fear to be alone again. But also confusion, anxiety, sorrow, sympathy, and some other sensations that he didn’t even know how to name.

But being a man of action, he rapidly put aside all those musing. Now he had to center all his senses and his energy to go in pursuit of the frenzied saiyan. He wasn’t going to allow the other to abandon him again. If Goku was going to end in a blaze of self-destruction, this time Vegeta would follow him.

Goku was moving at such speeds that, soon, he disappeared from Vegeta’s field of vision. The prince then had tried to locate his signal, but the energy emitted by the younger saiyan was so amazingly intense and strong that Vegeta could physically feel the pain as it pounded brutally within his head. Hissing, he blocked his mind. But it didn’t matter, it was easy to track the other saiyan, he just had to follow the trail of destruction and the smell of burning.

When he finally caught sight of the other male, Vegeta couldn’t believe his eyes. Maybe this dreadful day hadn’t happened and all of this was just a bad dream. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, mouth agape in astonishment.

Goku was there, stopped in mid air and surrounded by a powerful, brilliant aura; with a fierce but incredibly alluring appearance: His black, long, unruly mane hung down passed his shoulders; his eyes had changed in color- being now yellow- and in shape, not being as large as usual, but more alike Vegeta’s; and that red line around them gave him a feral and dangerous look. But the most astounding of his new features was the magenta fur covering most of his body; and his tail was back, and that same weird color.

Animalistic howls thundered, startling any living creature within hundreds of miles radius as Goku’s body was shaken by incessant spasms. And Vegeta wasn’t sure if the other had attained a new level of super saiyan or if it was some sort of semi-oozaru form, triggered by his transitory madness.

The power emitted by Goku was simply astonishing; it was impossible to believe a mere mortal was able to store such an amount of energy within his body, without exploding into pieces. And it kept on increasing with every passing minute.

Once partially recomposed from his shock; Vegeta ascended to level three and, though the expansive wave of Goku’s energy was too strong to get close; due more to his willpower and determination, than to his physical force, Vegeta had managed to latch onto the human torch Goku had become.

It felt like being in the very core of hell, like being submerged in a lake of boiling lava; so intense was the burning heat irradiated by that powerful body. But Vegeta remained stuck to the younger saiyan calling his name, with the meager hope that the other would regain his sanity.

Goku felt a little nuisance, something trying to restrain him and he had to get rid of it. So he twisted around and, without recognizing him, took a tight grip on Vegeta’s neck, strangling him while spiraling down until they crashed on the ground.

In his feral trance, Goku wasn’t aware of his acts or his surroundings; but, gradually, a persistent, whispering sound started to make way through his haziness, it was Vegeta’s faint voice repeating incessantly, his saiyan name. And as if that chant was some kind of magic spell with the power to conjure lunacy, Goku suddenly reverted to his normal form while his mind began to register what was happening; he could sense something warm pulsing under his fingers. He looked intently down to clearly see Vegeta beneath him trying in vain to gasp for air, as his throat was being constricted by powerful hands: Goku’s.

The younger saiyan couldn’t stop staring fascinated and, at the same time, horrified at Vegeta’s demeanor: The prince was not struggling for his life but offering himself like a propitiatory victim ready, willing, for the sacrifice, with a sad smile on his blue-for-the-lack-of-air lips; and half lidded brilliant eyes, filled with understanding and an atypical, unexpected sweetness.

Goku, completely mystified, still was tightly clutching the sore neck. But suddenly assailed by awareness, he abruptly let it go, as if it was a red-hot coal scorching his hand. Vegeta drew a deep intake of air into his lungs and coughed before looking up at the younger man, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Then, grabbing Goku’s hands, Vegeta placed them again on his neck.

“Kill me, Kakarot” Goku didn’t react, he had heard the words but the meaning hadn’t sunk in his head.

“Kill me, if that lessens your pain and makes you feel better, though even for just a second. I will die happy. Do it already, damnit!” The prince’s voice was profound, with a tinge of sadness, and in spite of the urgency and the cursing, it was so gentle, so soothing, like a balm to Goku’s broken heart; and as hypnotizing and tempting as a mermaid’s chant.

But Goku finally let him go; although his gaze stood fix on the pattern of red welts and purple bruises on bronzed skin. And suddenly he felt the odd urge to trace all those marks with his tongue. He blinked, more confused if possible, and then he moved apart, sitting on the ground.

“Why, Vegeta?”

“Don’t you know, Kakarot? After all these years and still you haven’t noticed” The voice now came out tired, weak, like a sad murmur, as Vegeta propping himself upon his elbows held the other man‘s gaze. Then, closing his eyes, a helpless sigh escaped through his tremble lips. “Why do you think, in spite my harshness and insults I’ve stayed on earth, going in your help whenever you needed it?”

“To save your family?” Goku’s words emerged mostly as an assertion than as a question, despite the inquiring tone.

“My family…” He trailed off, restraining a sardonic snicker at the sight of Goku’s mournful countenance. He would tell Goku all about his family, but now wasn‘t the time to vent up his pathetic, domestic tribulations. Goku had suffered an irreparable loss; Vegeta wouldn’t bother him with such trivialities.

He sighed again, then, shifting until he was knelt in front of the younger man, so close that their noses were almost touching, raised a hand to place it softly on Goku’s cheek. At the stunned look the other suddenly gave him, Vegeta whispered: “Don’t you know what you mean to me, Kakarot?”

Vegeta’s tone of voice was deliberately sensual as he savored, instead than pronounced, the exotic name that had become so familiar to the younger saiyan over the years. He leaned closer, grabbing the remains of Goku‘s collar shirt, to caress delicately, chastely Goku’s lips with his.

Goku remained petrified, but slowly a warm feeling coursed through him. The touch had felt like the petals of a rose, like silk, like the perfumed breeze of a summer morning. So unexpected, that bittersweet sensation, all that pain stabbing his heart and at the same time such tenderness from the man before him.

But it didn’t last enough for his mind to process the real significance of that simple gesture, and what just had transcended between them was lost to Goku. But then, a few tears slid down his cheeks and it felt so odd. Goku didn’t remember having ever cried before, but it was somehow comforting or at least relieving, washing some of his pain out of his system.

And soon, unable to restrain all that crushing grief anymore, an incessant stream of the salty fluid left his eyes. He sunk his head in Vegeta’s welcoming chest, sobbing, nuzzling against that warm body, wrapping his arms around the prince’s torso while gentle fingers ran through his hair and a soothing hand rubbed his back. Once the tears subsided, and feeling a little more at ease, Goku lifted his head to look at the prince through watery eyes.

“My son…He’s no more, I’ll never ever see him again. Not here, not in the otherworld, and there’s nothing I can do. I wished I would be dead as well.” Though oozing anguish, his voice sounded strangely serene. Vegeta held him tighter and whispered in his ear: “Shh, Kakarot, you can’t let yourself surrender to desperation, there’s some other people who need you.”

“But I can’t …I don’t deserve to keep on living. You can’t understand.” Vegeta stiffened at Goku’s words and loosened his grip on the younger saiyan. Goku didn’t know anything about all his past mourning and desperation. Those seven years without the other man…a sigh blew past Vegeta’s lips as painful memories he had confined in the most recondite corner of his mind, assailed his thoughts, taunting him, in a macabre dance.

When Goku sacrificed his life during the battle with Cell, Vegeta had refused to fight. Everybody had thought it had been a childish tantrum because it was another who had killed Goku instead of him. The fools, how dared them to judge him so frivolously when they did know nothing about saiyans.

When a saiyan warrior was in mourning for a loved one, it was the custom to renounce fighting for several years, it was a signal of respect and love only shown to close family or to a spouse/mate. And it was more than a mere symbol, it was in their blood, they felt irremissibly compel to do it. They were extremely passionate creatures, even in his pain; and when a beloved one died, the grief was so intense and deep that it overcame anything else, even their lust for battle.

And with that gesture, Vegeta had finally admitted to himself his real feelings for Goku.

It all had started when he first saw Goku as a super saiyan, fighting Freeza. Adoration had flashed just for a fraction of a second in Vegeta’s eyes, before the prince could banish such ’outrageous’ feelings from his head, from his cold heart, from his tainted soul, from his entire self. And later, when they had been brought to earth by the dragon, he had laughed, voicing out loud his rejoice for Goku’s death, but it just had been a desperate attempt to persuade himself that the other saiyan meant nothing to him, that he despised him deeply.

Vegeta had been deceiving himself for some time, but it was becoming more and more difficult to deny that his growing obsession for the younger saiyan entailed much more than mere rivalry. And he hated himself and Goku for this craving. Because Vegeta refused to give it any other name; it was a craving, nothing else; though hating it, he could grudgingly admit that he Vegeta, ‘wanted‘ someone, that was something he could feel comfortable with, without compromising his pride too much. But he didn’t ’need’, or ’care for’, and much less ’love’ anybody; because that would imply to claudicate, to submit, to renounce to his essence, and to admit his weakness. But deep inside, Vegeta knew that it was absurd to use semantic as a shield; because that feeling he refused to acknowledge was there, waiting to breach his defenses to creep its way into his heart.

But Goku’s death had been like a devastating tsunami washing away all those emotions that had been bursting through him: wrath, hatred, anger, frustration…and demolishing all his barriers and fronts, only leaving a man drowned in his pain; a man who had recognized too late, that it was love, that it had always been love.

Vegeta snapped out of his reverie and looked tenderly at the man that still was sobbing in his arms.

“I understand better than you imagine Kakarot. I’ve felt exactly the same way you’re feeling now; that anguish for the loss, that guilt for still being alive…”

Goku looked at him inquiringly and apologetically.

“Sorry, I forgot, our home planet…”

“No, Kakarot…You.” Goku frowned, again in confusion.

“My life ended when you died and decided to stay in otherworld. I had lost the half of my soul, the best half. It was so difficult to find the strength to wake up every brand new day knowing you wouldn’t be there. I knew that I wouldn’t be allowed to be with you after dying, because of my horrid past, but I had expected at least to spend some years with you here, but when you left my life had no purpose, no meaning anymore.” Vegeta’s quivering voice was an unquestionable evidence of how hard it was being for the proud and reserved prince to open up his heart.

“Vegeta… I didn’t know… you were always so harsh, so distant. I thought you didn’t like me, that you just tolerated my presence cause you needed a decent sparring partner… Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I knew I had no place in your life, you were too committed to your family and I respected that.’’ A profound sorrow was the predominant emotion present in the prince’s voice as he reached out with his hand to caress Goku’s cheek again. When Goku nuzzled into the touch, a smile brightened Vegeta’s whole face.

“Vegeta…” At the needy tone of Goku’s whispering voice, the prince, still with his hand on Goku’s face, started to pour a rain of feathery kisses on Goku’s other cheek. The younger saiyan closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing himself to forget everything just for a little while, not remembering the last time he had been object of such a tender display of affection.

“Let me help you Kakarot.” Whispered in Goku’s ear. Then, tilting his head, Vegeta started a new kiss, this time more intense. He threw his arms around Goku’s neck, smiling into the kiss the very moment he felt Goku’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist and his newly re-grown tail stroking his back.

He pressed his mouth more forcefully against his partner‘s and, capturing Goku’s lower lip between his, first teasingly, then he started to suck it avidly, almost with desperation, he wanted to devour the other man wholly. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he shivered as he felt Goku moaning into his mouth. He pulled slightly apart to whisper with a voice full of passion: “I love you, Kakarot.”

Goku froze at those words as the cruel reality reached that peaceful but fake backwater he had secluded himself in during the last minutes, slapping him hard in the face, and remorse crushed him under its unbearable weight. His tail hung limpid behind him as he disentangled himself from the prince’s sweet embrace. And when Vegeta tried to kiss him again, Goku threw his head back and placed the palm of his hand on Vegeta’s mouth.

“I… just can’t Vegeta. You make me feel so guilty…” The older saiyan frowned, looking worriedly at Goku who just stared down, not daring to confront Vegeta’s hurt gaze.

“Kakarot…” Goku’s head snapped up at the slight tinge of resentment, subtly veiled under the pleading tone of Vegeta’s voice.

“I think I don’t feel the same for you, I would have the sensation to be taking advantage of you; I am so empty, I‘ve got nothing to give. I would only be a dead weigh, a burden.” The words came out abruptly as Goku’s anxiousness increased.

“Shhh…just take what you want, I’ve got enough for the two of us, let me fill the void in your heart with my love. I can heal you, Kakarot, just let me try.”

And hungry, desperate lips collided with hesitant ones, pressing urgently, demandingly, to get a response. A probing tongue darted out from his moist cavity passing through half parted lips, running over a row of stubbornly clamped teeth, but its perseverance had its reward and entrance was finally granted. Vegeta couldn’t refrain from moaning in sheer delight relishing in the hotness and the intoxicating flavor he found there; the man oozed exquisite nectar.

Vegeta had fantasized so many times about this moment, wondering how it would be to taste the younger saiyan, but this surpassed his most delirious, blissful dreams. Suddenly he felt his clothes more constraining than usual, and his skin burning, and his head spinning. And all he could do was to worship that delicious mouth. For interminable moments, tongues twined, slid over each other, in a restless and frenzied dance of wet caresses. Vegeta, groaning, placed a hand on the back of Goku’s neck to pull him closer to deepen the kiss, which became more heated with every passing minute.

Vegeta pressed his body even more tightly if possible against Goku’s hard one, feeling how the man was kissing back as passionately as himself. But in the belief that the younger saiyan was enjoying as much as himself, Vegeta was totally unaware of Goku’s inner turmoil.

Goku, at first, had been overwhelmed by lust. It felt so good that he simply had relaxed and started to participate more and more enthusiastically as pleasure coursed through his veins like some kind of drug, making him go numb, killing all his pains.

But after a while something else started to build up within, something born in the pitch of his stomach, making him lurch: a bitter, devastating rage, consuming him, storming through his body like a dark, accusing angel of vengeance looking for retribution. His son’s corpse was still warm and he was enjoying a sinful pleasure instead of mourning for the loss.

And all that fury, born from his sense of culpability, engulfed him until he exploded. Tensing his body, he pushed brusquely Vegeta apart from him and the prince landed roughly on his rump, with a shocked expression on his face.

His heart skipped a few beats as he took notice of Goku’s serious and angry countenance. The younger saiyan was gritting his teeth and curling his fingers into fists, digging his nails so forcefully into his palms that blood started to ooze in rivulets.

“No, I don’t want to be healed I don’t want to stop feeling this pain, just leave me alone, Vegeta!“ The elder saiyan rose to his feet and his gaze was so full of sadness that Goku could not help the regretful sigh that escaped from his dry lips, and, much calmer, stated with a tired voice: “Please, try to understand me, Vegeta. I need the pain to honor Gohan’s memory, without this pain I’d feel like betraying my son. I’ve got no right to be happy.” He closed his eyes, feeling them well up again but not wanting to shed more tears.

The prince stepped forward bringing a hand to Goku’s hair, but before he could touch him, the younger saiyan grabbed Vegeta’s wrist, shaking his head in negation.

“I have to take the dead body of my son to his mother.” And without looking back he blasted off into the sky and flew back to the battlefield. Vegeta watched sadly as Goku became just a tiny speck in the horizon.

TBC

"Congratulations, daddy!"

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 05:39:49 GMT

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own DB/Z/GT

WARNINGS: M-PREG

“CONGRATULATIONS, DADDY”

By Tyrana

Bursting with joy and unable to control his impatience, Goku pressed insistently the inter-communicator of the GR; in his excitement, he had forgotten the main rule: ’Baka, never dare to interrupt my training sessions.’

He looked very proudly at the parcel in his hands and a slight blush spread over his cheeks as his mind drifted into a daydream; but he was brusquely snapped out of his rapture when the door cringed open, revealing the presence of a sweaty and evidently annoyed Vegeta.

“Kakarot…”, his scowl, though, retreating in favor of a more relaxed expression as he gazed onto the grinning features of his mate. Vegeta rolled his eyes feeling his heart leaping in his chest and a fluttering in the pitch of his stomach and he sighed amazed at the fascination that beauty still caused on him, even after all the time they had been together.

“You better have a good reason…”, but before Vegeta could finish, Goku shoved the packet just an inch apart from the prince’s face.

Vegeta stood stupefied for a nano-second looking at the shabby bundle, then he stared back at his grinning mate, sweat-dropping.

“What did I tell you about stupid ningen festivities, Kakarot?”, he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Nahh, this is a especial surprise for you.” Goku chirped, giggling; his tail swaying happily back and forth.

In his impatience, Vegeta torn the paper; the concentrated look on his face turning into one of mixed rage and bewilderment as he saw the content…A can of pink painting!

“You stupid moron, what the hell…?” he yelled, fuming, letting the partially open package drop to the ground.

He hated pink, it made his stomach lurch in nausea,  not really sure if it was  because it reminded him of that hideous shirt and the obnoxious woman or the almost equally repulsive journey through the innards of Buu.

But he started to lament his excessive outburst at the sight of his heartbroken mate; Goku’s angelic features appeared shaded by sorrow and anguish, as he cried his heart out in incessant, thick tears. Vegeta stood rooted on the spot, frowning in puzzlement as the younger saiyan blasted off into the sky.

“The baka…he deserves it, he should know better…” Vegeta muttered to himself without really meaning it; quite the contrary, he was repented for having causing such pain to his mate. It was the first time he made him cry and he wasn’t proud of it.

He was tempted for a while to follow the fugitive, but upon sensing that Goku was concealing his ki, he decided against it; maybe it was better to leave him alone for a while until the younger male would get calmed.

Vegeta kicked the can in frustration and a pink card slipped onto the ground. Perplexity deeply engraved on his royal features as he read the note.
“Congratulations, daddy.”

“Daddy…”, he trailed off very quietly… “Is all this Trunks’ idea?” Confusion and curiosity, intermingled in equal proportions, drove Vegeta to fly to CC to investigate the mystery.

**********************************

Storming through the nearest- closed -window where he had located his son’s ki, Vegeta landed right before a startled Trunks, who almost choked upon the piece of cake he was chewing in that precise moment. Meanwhile, Bunny, was there,  merrily humming while baking some cookies, with that permanent and characteristic grin on her features, totally unfazed, as if such brusque invasion of his beloved kitchen was the most natural occurrence.

Without any salute or other sign of courtesy, Vegeta just put the can on the table right in front of Trunks, snarling, ”What does this mean, boy?”

The baffled boy rolled his eyes, which caused Vegeta grunt. “Don’t try my patience…“ He trailed off in a harsh tone, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Father, I don‘t know …this, this isn‘t mine.”

Meanwhile, the flirtatious woman loomed toward Vegeta and looked over his shoulder to read the card, chuckling

“Oh Mr.vegeta, what a naughty boy! Cheating on Goku…and who’s the lucky lady?”

Vegeta simply scowled, barely able to contain a sudden urge to blast the woman into oblivion.

”What the hell? Why on earth would I cheat on Kakarot, woman? That’s ludicrous.”

“Uhh-uhh, confess your dirty secret, Mr. Casanova…someone has a bun in the oven.” The squeaks and chuckles of the old wench were grating on his nerves. But Vegeta could only roll his eyes, puzzled at the woman’s nonsense.

“Bun?...Woman, I never cook!”

“What a teaser you are, Mr. Vegeta!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, woman!”

“Really?  It’s evident that someone is expecting a little girl…”

“What the…”

“You know, pink is the traditional color to paint the girls’ rooms..”

Vegeta gasped feeling how all the air swiftly abandoned his lungs.

“Shit…Kakarot!”  Without even saying goodbye, the overexcited saiyan blasted through another window leaving behind a new mess of broken glasses and a bewildered 9-year-old demi-saiyan.

*****************************************

It didn’t pass long until finding his mate. As Vegeta suspected, Goku was at the verge of the lake, his favorite place. The younger beauty was laying on his stomach, his body wrecked with incessant sobs and his puffy tail laying limp on the ground.

Sighing in both, desire and remorse, Vegeta landed softly just few inches apart from his mate.

“Baka…” he trailed off with unusual tenderness.

“Leave me alone”, Goku snarled without turning to look at the newcomer.

But Vegeta lay down spooning his mate from behind. Goku winced slightly in rejection, but when the strong arms wrapped him tightly he snuggled against the firm body, going boneless in Vegeta’s arms when he felt the soft kissing and nibbling all over his neck and ear, his sobs never ceasing though.

“Vegeta, I’m tired…you just use me when you’re horny and the rest of the time I’m lucky if you’re not annoyed by my presence.” The bitter rebuke came between hiccups and sobs.

Vegeta frowned, his mate was really upset, the harsh words and the use of his complete name were enough evidence…he didn’t call him Vegeta anymore, only during their rare disputes.

“That’s not true…Karo” Goku suddenly froze in utter shock for some seconds and then, stopping in his crying, turned to gaze with astounded and fascinated eyes at his lover. It was the first time Vegeta used a nickname for him. A smirk of delighted satisfaction crept onto Vegeta’s features at the sight of Goku’s rosy face.

Purring, Vegeta started to lick with devotion the salty tears glimmering on Goku‘s cheeks, eliciting soft moans from the younger saiyan; “Geta…I have to tell you…”

But Goku couldn’t end the sentence as Vegeta moved to lie atop him, pinning the younger saiyan to the ground, grinding and thrusting his lithe body against the warmth below as the kiss became more and more heated. Vegeta’s tail wriggling, ruffling, at the pleasure running through his veins; the taste and fragrance of his mate as delicious and inebriating as a delicate wine.

And Vegeta felt his body aching, only wanting to be inside of his love forever, but, grunting, he reluctantly broke the kiss to admire the glorious beauty of the magnificent creature he had been gifted with.

“Geta, I…” Goku whispered in a barely audible tone while trying to recover his breath.

“I know…” Vegeta murmured, his lips brushing Goku’s ear, teasingly, before nibbling at the earlobe. Then, cupping Goku’s chin and looking him intently in the eyes he whispered “Our little princess, neh?” The blush on Goku’s face became more intense and he smiled sweetly; that smile turning into a full grin as his mate smiled back

“It might be a boy, Karo.” Goku shook his head laughing jovially.

“Nuuh, it’s a girl.”

“Nhh”, was the prince’s only response and he was going to start another kiss when  a rumbling sound made Vegeta raise an inquiring eyebrow, eliciting a nervous laugh from his partner.

“I’m hungry, Geta…”

“Me too…” he said smirking, to immediately  capture his mate’s lips once more, but Goku squirmed, denying entrance to the demanding tongue. Vegeta sighed “Ok let’s go home, we can satiate our appetites there more comfortably.” And with a lustful smirk, he stood up carrying Goku in his arms, his tail curling possessively around Goku’s waist as he blasted off into the sky.

”And Karo…”, he uttered in a playful tone “… I’m not painting her room in pink.” Goku pursed his lips but Vegeta, knowing exactly what his mate was about to say, spoke first, “…and definitively not orange!”

VegetaxGoku sketches

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 05:26:15 GMT

First of all, I'm not an artist. I'm very consciouss of my lack of skills on that department, lol But that never stop me from being a dork, lol. Here you have a blatant exhibition of my inexistent talent :D

http://dbtyrana.deviantart.com/art/Mommy-s-Pet-81196832

http://dbtyrana.deviantart.com/art/Mommy-s-got-the-cravings-80773352

http://dbtyrana.deviantart.com/art/LC-sketch-Edit-81678052

http://dbtyrana.deviantart.com/art/Tastes-like-Heaven-88704780

LOST CHILD. Chapter One.

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 11:03:44 GMT

Disclaimer: I do not own dragonball and I do not intend to do money with
this. The intellectual owner and creator of these characters is Akira
Toriyama

WARNINGS: None for this chapter, except Bulma portrayed as a ruthless
villain, so fans of Bulma out there, don't read if you cannot handle that.

I was going to add a prologue, relating how Bulma became the villain, but it was ridiculously long, and since the main focus of the story will be the pairing VegetaxKakarot(Goku) I just decided to explain it in alittle introductory note; please read, it's needed to understand some things.

INTRODUCTION:

This story occurs in an alternate reality or in a different timeline than the canon series. Frieza has not met Saiyans yet, and so the planet continued its course, with Bejiita as his king, and our Vegeta, his son, as his heir. Vegeta is about twenty-six or twenty-seven years old. Kakarot (not Goku here since he did not arrived on Earth) is ten years younger that the prince.

On planet Earth, since Goku was not there, old Gohan lived enough to meet Bulma when she was searching the dragon balls. When the old but lively man, who knew the power held by the balls, refused to lend her the dragon ball, Bulma killed him.

After tasting her first blood and the exhilarating power of being able to decide the destiny of another human being, Bulma kept on his search
of the balls, dispatching all those who dared to interfere in her path. She met Yamcha, who fell under the spellbound of the blue-haired
bombshell and became her lover, accomplice and minion.

With the power of the balls, the fortune and influence of her family, her scientific abilities and her sudden lust for power, soon she became
the ruler of the planet, one of the worst tyrants in the history of Earth. But that was not enough to satiate her avarice and soon she decided to extend her dominion out of planet.

With the dragon balls she attained technology that otherwise would have taken decades, even centuries to get; like spaceships to travel through the universe and an invisible barrier around the earth to be invulnerable to any attack from alien forces. She also wished that the
strength of the inhabitants of planet Earth would be increased. The balls did not granted her though the wish to acquire more advanced weapons. But even though her powers were limited, she soon started the conquest of nearby planets.

Once the Earthlings occupied one of the worlds property of the Saiyans, one of the most powerful races in the universe, which possessed a vast empire, the confront was inevitable. But little did the powerful Saiyans expect that all their attacks to Earth would be repelled. They had to admit defeat and came back home to lick their wounds.

And that is the point where this story begins.

(I used the name Bejiita for the father and Vegeta(our grumpy prince ) for the son, because it could be confusing using the same name, and
sorry but Vegeta junior sounds absolutely awful.

LOST CHILD

CHAPTER ONE: SHOCKING NEWS

The birthday of Bejiita, crowned king of Planet Vegeta, was approaching and the royal palace was a hive of rushed activity; each and every one of its dwellers, from the lowest of the servants to the highest noblemen, including the king himself, bustled about with ambitious, splendid preparations and arrangements to guarantee the success of the celebrations.

Everything had to be flawlessly planned, with utmost efficiency; every little detail taken care, any obstacle surmounted, any possible contingency prevented, all expectations fulfilled. In sum, it had to be perfect.

The event held great significance, mostly because of the repercussions that would possibly ensue: The palace soon would be brimming with multitude of diplomatic delegations, emissaries and representatives from all the worlds under the sphere of influence of the Saiyan empire and it was imperative that each and all of them, no matter their status (subjugated planets, allies, associates, friends…) witnessed the splendor and glory, the superiority of the Saiyan race.

It was a perfectly calculated method of propaganda, a subtle way to consolidate the power and influence of the conqueror over the subordinates and, even, to abort possible insurrections.

Furthermore, it was an excellent occasion to gestate important agreements, to forge new alliances, to strengthen old ties, to smooth out differences and slight conflicts…But it was also an opportunity for the king to give free rein to his vanity.

For it was a very well stated fact that Bejiita fancied to receive compliments and admiration over his outward appearance, style, sophistication and prosperity. It was not such an outlandish trait; as a matter of fact, it was perfectly understandable given the innate exhibitionism and boastfulness of the Saiyan race. The only difference with the rest of his compatriots was the choice of channel to vent it; in lieu of spitting his bravado at the face of his enemies in the battlefield; the king had found his own, personal way to show off himself.

And so the king had taken upon himself, like it was habitual, the task to design most of the garments he would be wearing during the receptions, banquets and the rest of the celebrations. And, overcome by puerile excitation, when he finished his part he went to and fro, for interminable days, giving instructions and supervising the work of tailors, seamstress‘, and the rest of the servants, causing them to be at the edge of a breakdown and making their lives a complete hell with all his demands, nudging, rude criticisms, bickering and whatnot. But finally the work had been successfully done, and the brand new wardrobe was ready to be tried on.

*****************

General Bardock, royal counselor and closest friend of the king of all Saiyans, awaited patiently amidst the sumptuousness of the Blue Chamber; standing erect almost like a statue, in the typical posture and demeanor of a well-trained soldier awaiting his orders, (despite his privileged position and although his days as a commoner in the army were far off; but old acquired, deeply ingrained habits were hard to eradicate).

Not even a single muscle or fiber of his body rippled, shook or trembled in the slightest; even his attractive and well-defined features, -powerful, authoritative, denoting his strength of character, earnest and steadfast resolve- were perfectly restrained in a neutral expression.

The man was the epitome of self-discipline, imperturbability and perfect composure, except for the occasional, inevitable blinking of sharp, charcoal eyes, and the sporadic raising of an eyebrow at the bizarre scene performed before him: The protagonist not other than Bejiita, almighty king of the saiyan empire, was posing in front of a colossal mirror, admiring his tall, impressive and flawlessly chiseled figure, magnificently framed and enhanced by a lavish and elegant suit of rich burgundy velvet. Meanwhile a servant, (an alien, like most of the employees occupied in ‘low and degrading’ -according to the criteria of the proud Saiyans- jobs), with sallow complexion and unattractive features, glowing-red mane and petite, fragile body, trotted nervously behind the monarch; one moment to set properly the pleats of the jacket; the next to brush off compulsively random spots on the arms and the back; the whole time twitching and letting escape, every now and then, from thin blue lips comments like “Excellent!” - ”Perfect!”, and other compliments of a similar fashion.

The monarch, far from being irritated or annoyed, gave the impression to be rather pleased with the singular creature’s demeanor; and Bardock, not daring to break his reverent silence until being granted permission to speak, pondered over, in renewed amazement, as many other times before, how regardless of their different personalities, Bejiita and he shared similar ideals and views.

He was basically a simple soldier, an ordinary man of sober tastes and austere habits; his disposition reserved, taciturn, almost unsociable; his character determined but rarely stubborn; his manners as restrained as his countenance, hardly ever giving free expression to his emotions; but sincere and honest when he spoke his thoughts or in the rare occasions in which he demonstrated his feelings, neither fond of subterfuges nor nasty tricks.

Bejiita, on the contrary, had been gifted with an exuberant, overwhelming personality and a more open and expressive character. But he was more devious and sibylline in his intentions and in his treatment of others. He also possessed an arrogance occasionally bordering narcissism, but that had become the trademark of the royal family. Though, surprisingly, he was rather indulgent with other people’s flaws. The man was a hedonist; a sybaritic, with exquisite and refined manners, who delighted and indulged in decadent luxury and opulence. It sufficed to take a look around to have proof of it:

The whole chamber hung with tapestries of rich velvety cloth and draperies of fine silk in an ample array of different shades of blue. The sunlight, which streamed through a large window, transformed the sepulchral pallor of the smooth marbled floor into resplendent warmth. A few, selected, dainty ornamental objects perfectly harmonized with the exquisite furniture of simple lines made with noble woods, embellishing and enhancing the elegance of the ambiance. And, as an ultimate touch of voluptuous refinement, a subtle herbal fragrance filled the room.

Such were the musings drifting fluently through Bardock’s mind while the king continued immersed in the appreciative contemplation of his royal person on the mirror; every now and then whirling slowly, looking over his shoulder in an attempt to get, as well, a glimpse of his back view.

Suddenly, Bejiita, stroking his tidy goatee, stopped all his movements and evolutions; the pensive and serious gaze under slightly knitted eyebrows gave him the aspect of a man who seemed to be debating with himself a crucial issue. After brief instants, he nodded his head with a satisfied expression settled upon his aristocratic countenance.

“I think I will be wearing the dark-blue suit for the banquet,” the monarch casually observed, casting a brief glance over the emaciated servant, who bowed his head in humble deference; but his eyes immediately flickered back to his reflection, as he added: “This one definitively is the most appropriate for the official reception, it emphasizes my regal bearing, do you not think so, Bardock?”

Had not been the phlegmatic type, the laconic general would have flinched and gaped at him in utter stupefaction. The query had caught him absolutely off guard; it was not an usual occurrence that the king asked for his opinion about such trivialities; in fact, Bejiita had every so often reprimanded him, always humorously however, for his deficient ’sense of fashion’.

Bardock merely blinked intermittently during a couple of seconds before widening his fiery eyes, seeming to be the only part of his anatomy with some capacity to respond to external stimuli.

Being well acquainted with each and one of the gestures of his rather expressionless counselor. Such imperceptible reaction was enough evidence for Bejiita to realize, amused, that he had put the man into a tight corner; the massive, roaring laughter which ensued, echoed across the room for at least full five minutes.

“Do take a seat, my old friend and serve yourself some wine,” offered the monarch, still in good humor, once his outburst subsided. Then, without averting his satisfied gaze from the mirror, Bejiita, snapping his fingers twice, exclaimed curtly to the nervous valet: “The purple cape, quickly!“ Once he was handed over the requested item of clothing, the king, waving languidly his hand in a dismissing gesture, ordered him to leave the room.

The small alien inclined his head before proceeding to pick up all the garments scattered over a splendid divan and clumsily made a profound obeisance of submission and respect to the king, mumbling an almost unintelligible “Your highness.“ After that, spinning in Bardock’s direction, he repeated the same servile gesture in recognition of the high rank of the general, before swiftly retreating by a side door.

Once they were left alone, without any importuning presence, the king adjusted the purple cloak to his shoulders and admiring the effect on the mirror, proceeded to interrogate his counselor about more significant affairs.

“Now my dear friend, I assume you are bearer of good news,” uttered Bejiita with inquiring notes while posing with stately air, still enthralled in his own pleasant scrutiny.

“Certainly. The majority of the invitees will be arriving within this week. The president of Dakkara will not be able to attend, but he showed great interest on our proposal to provide us with their superior technology and he will send his Prime Minister to discuss the terms of a possible agreement,” intoned Bardock in even accents.

“Excellent!” The king exclaimed with ostensible delight, then, smirking, continued, “We need to make a succulent offer, that old fox is a greedy bastard,” a short chuckle escaped his lips before adding, “but it will be a worthy investment, the efficiency of our battle forces will be considerably increased.”

Bejiita walked over, approaching to the table and grabbed some berries from a silver tray, savoring the bitter-sweet taste as Bardock continued the report.

“The king of Belaria and the archiduke of Talandur finally accepted our mediation in order to put an end to their conflict.”

Bejiita waved his hand with mild disinterest, “Those idiots and their petty territorial disputes. Spare me the details, I trust in your good judgment to resolve the issue satisfactorily,” he uttered disdainful, divesting himself from the fancy piece of cloth to toss it carefully over the divan before stepping over to ensconce himself on a lavish armchair opposite to Bardock.

“My main concern right now is that woman who rules the Earth. That…Bulma. Did she accept the invitation?” He questioned, voice slightly altered by atypical anxiety.

Bardock nodded his head in silent acquiescence, involuntarily clenching his hands into fists at the mention of that planet, (ironically the same his lost son, Kakarot, was assigned to purge when he was just a toddler; a destination he never reached though), suddenly assaulted by that familiar, deaf pain that dwelt in lethargic state within the deepest recesses of his heart, and that was awaken every time memories of his son plagued his mind. But, promptly collecting himself, he added, “She confirmed her attending in our last communication.”

“Good, good…did you find her predisposed to negotiate?” Bejiita asked, while pouring a generous amount of red wine into a silver goblet.

“More than that, eager; that was my impression. But…” Bardock paused and cast his gaze down, biting on his bottom lip in hesitation, absolutely conscious that he needed to choose carefully his next words if he did not want to incur the king’s anger. Bejiita was fairly reasonable, most of the times, and he held great estimation for Bardock’s judiciousness, acknowledging and rewarding with largesse his sage advice and the earnest and zest the counselor invested in the fulfillment of his duties and responsibilities. Yet, he did have little to none proclivity to tolerate antagonisms, neither unfavorable opinions of any kind when he was downright adamant about a particular matter.

Upon noticing Bardock’s reservation, an infrequent trait on the counselor’s side, Bejiita quirked an eyebrow. The sternness and suspicious, so manifestly written, all of a sudden, on the king’s face caused Bardock to fidget nervously on his seat.

“Well…spit it out, what is the problem?” Bejiita inquired, harshly.

There was a look of genuine preoccupation in Bardock’s eyes when he turned his gaze up toward the king, but he continued, nonetheless, with his characteristic confidence, “May I humbly suggest you to reconsider the whole issue?” He asked, with tact.

Bejiita’s factions immediately contorted into a sulky scowl, yet it did not deter his counselor from speaking his mind with frankness, “I have the presentiment that an association of any kind with that woman will entail more troubles than benefits.”

Upon noticing the strange look of intermingled annoyance, curiosity and surprise the king was darting at him, Bardock ceased in his utterance, awaiting in questioning silence for any reaction on his interlocutor’s side.

“Bardock, if you really want me to take you seriously you must provide valid and far more convincing arguments than mere, absurd presentiments.” Though the king’s words were emphasized by stern accents, Bardock felt certain relief at the fact that Bejiita was keeping at bay his irascible and choleric temper, (granted that though the king could become very violent, he also was endowed with a proverbial self-control and a great capacity to restrain himself) and appeared to be inclined to listen to the counselors reasoning.

“I don’t trust her. She is too ambitious and manipulative: since the very first moment we spoke, I got the impression that she’s one of those persons without scruples or ethics of any kind, who wouldn’t hesitate to commit the most despicable of the acts in order to achieve her purposes…”

Amused and fascinated by his counselor’s capacity to utter an incensed invective with such quiet manners and neutral tone of voice, the king interrupted him with a wry chuckle, which apparently served to conjured up part of his tenseness for he spoke in a more distended way, “Bardock, I cannot quite understand your reticence and misgivings. That same description could apply to almost each and one of our allies.”

“I have not finished yet,” Bardock remarked, boldly, “she is different…her lust for power seems to be insatiable; a good sum of gold will not be sufficient to keep her satisfied. During our last conversation, before giving me a positive response to our proposal, she showed a great interest on learning about the functioning of the Royal House, the succession rights to the throne, the status of the king’s consort and a myriad of similar subjects. All with the excuse to know better and understand her possible associates..”

“You must admit she got a point there”, the monarch commented, bringing indolently the goblet to his lips to take a long sip. Bardock raised an skeptical eyebrow in disbelief at the king‘s apparently impassiveness.

“Really? And what was the point of asking me if your only son remains single? And what about her sudden interest on knowing our position about inter-species marriages or if we have successfully attempted to breeding with alien races?

Of course, she mentioned it all very casually, seasoned with a mellifluous tone of voice and flirtatious manners, as if, that way, she could veil her true motivations.“ The blazing flames of wrath in Bardock’s expressive pupils gradually derived into a glint of concern as he pronounced his next words of advice, “We must be cautious, Bejiita, she is desperate to sinking her fangs into the Saiyan empire…”

“Greedy bitch…” Anger flashed for a fleeting instant in the depths of Bejiita’s eyes, but he instantly shrugged it off savoring another drink of the excellent liquor.

A tense quietness descended upon the room as the king became entranced by the flow of his grave reflections. Endless moments elapsed before he broke the silence, barely concealing his state of slight agitation under the authoritative tone of his voice.

“Damnit, Bardock, you seem obstinate in ignoring the importance of this whole affair. It is essential for us to know her damn secret.”, he exclaimed vehemently, pulling the upper half of his body slightly forward, knocking on the table with his balled fist with such vigor that the goblets and decanter began to tremble, some drops of wine bleeding over the fine piece of satin that covered the board.

Then, he drew a deep breath before voicing out loud his thoughts. “The ancient records describe Earth as a considerably vulnerable planet, equipped with archaic technology and inhabited by one of the weakest races of the universe. And suddenly, during the past year, alarming news began to come, reporting the conquest of some of our colonies in outer space by natives from this insignificant planet. And such meteoric ascending stunningly only took them a very short lapse of time,” the dark tinges of the king’s voice evidenced the somber mood in which he was immersed, “You cannot possibly have forgotten that you were as shocked as myself when our attempt to invade that little ball of mud failed; it was unheard in our whole history a defeat of such magnitude. And they did not even counterattack, they did not need the assistance of any weapon.”

Unable to remain on his seat for any longer, in a state of increasing anxiety, Bejiita, springing up from his armchair, began to stride back and forth in long treads across the room, his hands behind his back, cape billowing as he loudly observed, “I’m certain you remember the testimonies of the survivors, all of them declared that the accursed planet of hell appeared to be surrounded by an invisible barrier, a kind of shield capable of repelling all other attacks, causing any ship which tried to trespass the atmosphere to explode. How is that possible, Bardock? Where did they acquire such advanced technology?”

Halting his restless pace, Bejiita exhaled a faint sigh before spinning around to advance toward the spot were his counselor was seated, commenting, “And even more incredible were the declarations confirming that those earthlings suddenly seemed to be in the possession of a physical strength that almost rivals ours. It makes no sense; what kind of magic lays underneath this mystery?”

The piercing gaze Bejiita fixed on his counselor oozed as much bitterness as his reflections.

“There is more than our pride at risk here, Bardock, can’t you see that?” He asked, hitting the surface of the table with the flat palm of his hand.

“Believe me, Bejiita, I understand and share your preoccupation. But is it that worthy as to capitulate and yield a part of our heritage into vile hands…Do you reckon prudent to bring the enemy into our home and hand her over such amount of power? There must be another way to achieve our purposes, Bejiita; that alliance should be our last resort. I am just asking, begging, to wait; just give me a little more time to meditate and find a better solution.”

“Time is a luxury we cannot afford, Bardock. You witnessed how painful it was for me to order the retreat of our navy and to admit defeat. And how bold that woman has become since then, continuously defying our position and authority, provoking and taunting us by conquering a few more of our possessions in outer space. We must stop her before things start getting out of hand.”

The king tugged at his beard, pensive, before continuing. “Certainly, letting aside their astounding, apparent immunity, those terrestrials have not developed any extraordinary weapon and their capacity of attack is so limited that, until now, they have just occupied a small number of the weakest worlds. But, tell me Bardock, can you positively assure me that those earthlings have reached the pinnacle of their power? How much time will pass before they become stronger and more powerful than us? How long until we get enslaved or even obliterated by such an inferior race?”

Bardock did not seem able to believe such thing possible and he tilted his head up slightly to stare intently at the sovereign while his factions adopted an air of skepticism. But he stayed mute, nonetheless, not knowing what to reply to not further irritate the king.

“Your attitude amazes me, Bardock. I am resolved to accede to her demands. Yes, you have heard me, so do not give me that look of loathsomeness. If such is the price that must be paid to make us thoroughly unbeatable and to guarantee the survival and supremacy of the Saiyan race, then so be it. I am more than willing to sleep with the devil if that enables us to become gods.” On which, Bejiita sat back down, scowling his defiance and steadfast determination.

“But it is your own son who will have to share bed with the devil, Bejiita, how can you do this to him, with such coldness…without remorse…? What if our fears turn out to be groundless and those creatures never get to be as strong as we are? All will be in vain…”

“That is not relevant at all, Bardock. What really matters is to know the secret to reach that invulnerability. It could become crucial for our people.”

A frown of uneasiness overcame the king’s face as he verbalized his fears, however with his habitual tone of majestic authority. “You have knowledge of those reports sent from the last of our occupied worlds. Its inhabitants affirm to have heard rumors referred to beings with immense, almost infinite power who are spreading chaos and destruction across a sector of the universe still unexplored by us. Creatures capable to reduce entire worlds into ashes with a single blow; an entire race of ruthless, sanguinary tyrants who do not care about any other thing than satiating his supreme lust for power. Creatures so cold they could make your heart, your whole soul freeze with just a brief glance…” The last words came out hoarsely while the king curled tightly his fingers around the goblet; severe, abrasive eyes darkening regal factions despite being bathed in the golden light that flooded the room.

Bardock regarded him intently in a commiserative and understanding silence; he could not but feel sympathetic in relation to his monarch’s anxiety, yet it did not prevent him from straightforwardly manifesting his doubts.

“You cannot actually give credit to such fantasies, Bejiita. You are perfectly cognizant of the fame they have gained, far and wide, for being one of the most superstitious species of the universe. Moreover, the notion of a race born stronger than us, Saiyans, is ludicrous.” He snarled the last sentence with patent disdain.

The king, however, shook his head condescendingly, heaving a deep sigh.

“Bardock, Bardock, Bardock,” repeated Bejiita softly, but intentionally, with a slightly reproving tone which caused the general to clamp his teeth tightly and to tense his facial muscles into a slight frown. He nonetheless continued listening the monarch’s words with invariable deference and respect. “That is your sole and great defect, your exaggerated pride in our race. Certainly, it is an attribute inherent to each and one Saiyan. We are terrible chauvinists my friend, and though as a warrior I consider it to be one of our best virtues, as politicians we should let it aside for it is but a blindfold which clouds our intelligence.” He stated in an admonitory tone, placing the goblet he still was holding on the table and picking some grapes, while the counselor remained impassible, in the same posture he had adopted since the conversation began.

An awkward silence filled the room until the monarch, ending swallowing the delicious fruits, observed. “Bardock, you are well aware that my sense of honor and pride rivals that of any of our compatriots, but in my condition of sovereign I have the sacred duty to protect our people and defend their interests. And in order to accomplish that, sometimes it is needed to let aside affections, personal preferences and prejudices, and even to make the most humiliating concessions and the most painful sacrifices.”

Bejiita could attest, by the look on his counselor’s face, that he was maintaining an inner struggle, as if trying to conciliate his most visceral and passionate beliefs and inclinations with the clever reasoning the king had just rendered.

Undoubtedly, one of the factors, if not the main, which made Bardock the ideal person for his job was that both of them shared basically the same opinions and interests. And though the counselor was also able to provide different, refreshing views or to contemplate the same subject from a different angle, for their minds were not totally concurrent, it was vital for the good government of the empire that the king and the adviser to the crown could work together in harmony, without frictions or dissensions of any kind.

And more than ever in this particular case, it was necessary a total agreement from both parties. Bardock needed to understand what was at stake, so the king finally broke the silence to express more clearly his position and motives.

“Think, Bardock, the universe is infinite and we have only seen a minuscule part of it. What challenges, what threats and dangers await for us beyond the stars, my friend? We cannot allow ourselves to become blinded by our fatuous arrogance. It would be a fatal mistake, a folly, to deny the possible existence of beings with superior power and technology capable to destroy our world. We must contemplate that possibility and seek the means to be prepared for any kind of contingency.”

“But, Bejiita, what about our beliefs; the prophecy about the legendary warrior born from our people, the invincible supersaiyan who will prevail over all his enemies and whose power will remain unrivaled for all eternity? Do you believe it, Bejiita?”

“Of course I do. I have a blind faith that it will happen, but when Bardock? If our race perishes before he is given the chance to arise, what use will he be of? Look Bardock, we cannot stay passive, without doing anything but waiting to see if rumors, suspicions or legends become real or not, meanwhile letting escape all our chances to triumph. We have the opportunity to get a remedy and be prepared for possible eventualities before they get to occur. Ought we be as stupid as to let it pass, my friend? I do not mind the sacrifices, even though in our entire lifespan all our current fears are finally proved to be vain, we must think of the future, in the next generations. What kind of legacy are we willing to offer to our descendants? Think about it carefully, Bardock, and then tell me, if you can, that I am wrong.”

The king paused to savor a sip of the red liquor; a far away look in his eyes causing him to seem elder and tired; but at the same time, the fierce determination branded permanently on his visage attested his unyielding and resilient nature; like that of a powerful tree enduring imperviously the merciless, countless lashes from wild winds in the middle of the storm.

Bardock observed him through new eyes, with renewed and profound respect. It was evident that, lately, the king had been in earnest meditation regarding all these matters, moved by a genuine concern for his people. The damn woman seemed to have caused the effect of a catalyst, a sort of activator instigating a process which could be defined as a “mental rearrangement”, making the king to open his mind to new possibilities and reconsider his old and deepest convictions.

And Bardock pondered silently about it all; his analytical and methodic mind, nurtured with all the new arguments the king had posed, working at vertiginous speed, exhaustively, contemplating the subject from all the possible perspectives, weighing the pros and cons, until getting to the conclusion that Bejiita’s reasons were fairly consistent.

But there was still some qualms troubling him; and his doubts were so distinctly etched across his face, that the king, awakened from his own reflexive trance and casting inquisitive eyes upon Bardock, had the sudden impulse to ask him the motives.

“Your son, Bejiita. It is his happiness what you are jeopardizing.” Bardock replied in such a pleading tone that caused the king to roll his eyes.

“Now you are being over-dramatic, Bardock. Arranged marriages had been a frequent occurrence along the history of he royal family. I myself was obliged to marry someone chosen by my father. It is not a great deal. And my son is very conscious of the responsibilities the title entails.’’

“Bejiita, you do not have to commit the same mistakes of your antecessors. I thought we agreed upon that question long ago.”

“Enough Bardock!” The king exclaimed warningly, with a furious tone of voice; a dangerous glint flashing in his scorching eyes, with such intense rage intended on his counselor that had he not been the seasoned warrior he actually was, but a more impressionable, thin-skinned target, Bardock would be shivering in dread.

“You’re bordering insolence. You may be my most trusted and closest friend but I will not tolerate you to trespass certain boundaries. Bear in mind that you are in the presence of your king and that my word is law. For your wise advice I am grateful, your allegiance is precious to me. But not even you will be consented to questioning my decisions. ”

Bardock brusquely rose from his seat to stand upright on his feet and inclined his head, eyes cast down, clenched fists, muscles tensed, as he uttered: “Apologizes, your highness.” The contrite accents of his voice not entirely veiling the underlying overtones of resentment; after all, he was as proud as any other Saiyajin.

Meanwhile, Bejiita, shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position, relaxing the muscles of his body and recovering his regular rate of breathing; all the prior tension and agitation fading out along with his vexation, which was swiftly replaced by the amusement caused at Bardock‘s antics: The king’s counselor was the only living creature capable to irradiate an air of conceited defy whereas performing such a subservient and servile gesture as a bow. It was evident that the man was fuming inwardly despite his arduous endeavors to maintain his façade of imperturbability.

The king prolonged the diversion by averting completely his attention from the stiff figure to replenish the content of his goblet, deliberately pretending downright indifference to Bardock.

He brought the recipient languidly toward his lips, shaking it slightly and inhaling the delicate aroma. Then he sipped slowly, savoring the fruity flavor, relishing for a long while on the strong and delicious sensation left on his taste buds, before setting the costly recipient on the table.

All so very leisurely, with the purpose to provoke, for once, a visceral reaction on his counselor’s side, out of the battlefield (the only situation on which Bardock allowed himself to unleash his primal, passionate -genuinely saiyan- nature) . But to no avail; when the king’s eyes fell upon Bardock, he had not even broken a sweat.

With a sigh of mild disappointment, Bejiita shrugged his shoulders off while softening his features into a sympathetic smile.

“Sit down and serve yourself some wine, my friend. It will aid to loosen you up; you seem to need it.” The king uttered, eyes shining with mirth, watching as the counselor raised his head to cast a brief glance over him before seating himself again.

“I bet you haven’t tried anything like this delicious nectar. Come on, let‘s make a toast to the success of my birthday celebration.”

Bardock hastened to obey the king’s command, a little grunt erupting from his chest, which elicited a vigorous laughter from the monarch. Then, both men drank in companionable silence, that only lasted for a brief instant before Bejiita decided to break it.

“This conversation must remain confidential, Bardock. I unreservedly rely on your discretion. You know my son too well; he will likely raise a ruckus when he gets knowledge of the possible plans in store for him. And that would be very inopportune at the present, with all such dignitaries and ambassadors visiting. It is essential to cause them an excellent impression; we don‘t need to give them any more motives to consider saiyans a simple race of brainless and overly-muscled barbarians……“

A frown settled quarters on Bejiita’s brow all of a sudden and his visage glowed a deep scarlet during a fleeting instant for it was a delicate topic for him, but swiftly recomposing himself, he sighed before resuming his previous statement. “After all, we only count with mere conjectures and presumptions. I will solely talk to him when we get confirmation of the woman‘s true intentions.”

Bardock nodded in mute assent, aware that Bejiita was attempting to postpone the inevitable dispute that would ensue and that would only serve to aggravate the ill relation between father and son, (relation that had been severely damaged since the very day the prince was, by Royal Decree, transferred to the diplomatic service and forbidden to participate in military actions.)

A barely audible sigh escaped from regal lips to fade into nothingness, as Bejiita decanted more of the red sweetness into his goblet, with a remarkable pensive expression on his august countenance, which evidenced the conflicting emotions his son provoked in him; that blend of pride and deception impossible to harmonize. Mesmerized, his eyes rested on the content of his chalice, as if seeking either responses or console, while thoughts of his son invaded his mind.

Vegeta, his only offspring and heir; an unique and impossible compendium of the best virtues and the most reprehensible flaws and vices.

The prince had the soul of an intrepid and fierce warrior; the mind of a cunning strategist; a colossal, unrivaled force; unshakeable determination and willpower; and a resilience and capacity to push himself to limits that others would consider impossible to attain. And such persistence had driven him to be one step ahead, surpassing each and any of his fellow Saiyans.

But Vegeta was also imbued of such excessive haughtiness, an exacerbated sense of self-importance, alongside with an insensitiveness, a detachment, an incapacity to connect and genuinely become concerned with people, even with his closest relatives. All of this occasioned a disquiet, a pessimistic foreboding in Bejiita, who feared for the fate of his kingdom.

Not that Vegeta was cruel nor malicious, but at his eyes, any kind of affection was synonym of weakness, a waste of time, a hindrance to achieve his highest ambition: To become the legendary supersaiyan. And though such purpose was per se very laudable; it had grown, through the years, into a compulsive obsession. And it so happened that the prince had become unsympathetic, uncaring and inconsiderate to the feelings and necessities of others. And, in Bejiita’s opinion, those were not precisely the attributes a commendable and prudent king ought to possess.

Bejiita heaved a deep sigh and looked steadfastly at Bardock and, suddenly feeling the urgent necessity to share his worries concerning his son with his loyal counselor, he finally broke the silence that had descended upon the room since the very moment he had become absorbed in his gloomy musings.

“Bardock, my son is so similar to his grandfather; so stubborn, so hot-blooded and impulsive that I am afraid he might become the same type of sanguinary, greedy tyrant my father was. My worst fear is that all my efforts to inculcate some wisdom in him go to waste and the old days of terror return…I do not know how to make him see that in order to be a good leader is imperative to control his passions and learn temperance and patience…”

It was such an astounding rarity to hear that resigned tone from the ever overly confident monarch, that Bardock was rendered speechless for an instant. But once recovered from his surprise, the general replied:

“Bejiita, believe me, your son is not in the least the ruthless monster your father was. Bear in mind that despite his imperfections, Vegeta is a honorable man.” The king had never doubted that, but coming from an objective source, proclaimed with such conviction and firmness, was the kind of comfort he so much needed at that juncture. He leaned his body back on the armchair with a marked expression of relief on his face, as if he had been liberated of an unbearable burden, whilst Bardock continued:

“The prince is still too young and his blood boils with battle-lust. It is not strange in the least; we are, above all, warriors. Fight, challenge, violence, blood…Such are our aliments; what we strive for, what we live for, what we die for. He’s got a lot of time ahead to learn. And you are well aware that our race has not precisely been bestowed with the gift of…” A brief pause from the counselor to choose carefully the next word did not go unnoticed by the king, who merely elevated an eyebrow, curious, while Bardock ended the statement: ”…patience.”

The king chuckled with mirth.

“Why did you censor yourself Bardock? You know very well that I have always valued highly your raw sincerity. Are you getting old? Lost your guts or got your balls removed? Say what you really meant: “Brains!”

“I would not quite say that, Bejiita. Your son does not lack intelligence. It is simply that he has not acquired yet that kind of wisdom that comes with maturity, from experience and thoughtful meditation. In fact I think that he is brilliant when it comes to verbal disputes…” Bardock trailed off, pausing as he noticed the king was shaking his head.

“I am afraid I am the only culprit of his attitude, my friend. With my insistence on instilling in him the pride of what it means to be truly saiyan, branding with fire within his very core a sense of superiority for being the destined ruler of the most glorious race of the universe. I should have taught him first, that becoming a good leader implies to serve and protect his people. And, in addition, I spoiled him rotten, indulging in each and every one of his whims. But I was too young and inexperienced then…” The king stated before exhaling a sigh of remorse.

“And so he is, Bejiita. He will learn…Hopefully, he will have someone at his side wise enough to guide him.”

“I cannot help but to have serious doubts, Bardock. Even if he is lucky enough to have such a loyal and proficient counselor like you have been to me; he is too independent and too swollen with pride to listen to anybody but himself…”

“That is not what I meant, Bejiita. He needs to find the perfect companion, someone capable to get close enough; with the proper mate exerting the adequate influence, Vegeta would make an excellent king…” Bardock took care to accentuate each and one of his words purposefully, causing Bejiita to frown.

“Won’t you ever get tired of attempting to sabotage that possible marriage, Bardock?” The king folded his arms securely over his chest, his tone of voice as defensive as his pose, as he added, “Not that it will become a hindrance, in any case. You know that my son still will be able to keep his true mate by his side despite that union.”

“Something tells me that woman would not allow that.”

“What that woman might or not want is irrelevant at all. You know perfectly well that my son will not consent anybody to dictate what decisions to take nor to interfere in the governing of his people. She wants a taste of real power, fine; but she will have to learn what actually implies to become the queen of the saiyan empire; what duties and privileges such title entails. If she harbors the senseless and ludicrous fantasy that she will be able to have any saying on the affairs of the crown, she will get the deception of her life. And I am positively sure that my “gentle” son will be more than eager to put that bitch in her place.”

“I would like to have your same confidence, Bejiita…” Trailed off Bardock, with evident discontentment.

The frown of anger on the king’s face were dangerously deepening but the beeping sound coming from an inter-communicator prevented further disputes between the two men.

“Your highness, a courier beg permission to deliver an urgent message addressed to General Bardock,” came the raspy voice from one of the guards paying vigilance outside the chamber.

“Let him in,” was the king’s sole reply before shutting the communication. Immediately, the heavy mahogany door swished open and the messenger made his entrance, pausing once he crossed the threshold to bow respectfully before the two men.

“I beg your pardon for daring to interrupt, your majesty, but my orders were to deliver the missive without delay,” said he with hesitant tone, looking down at the floor, with his head still bent.

“Fine, proceed!” The king uttered, condescendingly, grabbing again his goblet, without offering a single glance to the soldier, who advanced toward the table to silently hand the message to the royal counselor. After that, he bowed again before retiring himself as quietly as he had entered.

The expression on Bardock’s face became somber as he fixed piercing, yet apprehensive, eyes on the missive. Bewildered, he felt a slight tremor running up his spine. Due to his occupation, he was used to receive hundreds of urgent notes daily; so this was not an exceptional occurrence, but still, he cannot avoid, nor quite understand why all of a sudden a sensation of impending doom had seized him in a tight grip, causing his stomach to lurch and his heart to skip some beats in uneasiness. He could even feel a few beads of cold sweat rolling down his forehead.

Unable to resist the curiosity, he glanced up at the king, pleadingly under knitted eyebrows, as a mute petition of permission. The king, unaware of the state of anguish of his counselor, nodded as his lips curved in a slight smirk.

“Read the damn thing, I need a change of clothes anyway. We don‘t want this beauty to get ruined, do we?” Asked he, the smirk growing deeper as he stroked the velvety fabric on his left arm.

While the king walked over toward a small alcove situated in one of the corners of the room, Bardock read avidly the piece of paper; his heart pounding erratically and violently inside his aching chest as his mind processed the significance, either, the literal, more immediate, one; as well as the deepest one: The implications, the consequences that would ensue; just a few words, mere lines on a piece of paper, something so apparently insignificant could give an unexpected twist to his life.

“Kakarot…” Came out the brittle whisper from Bardock’s suddenly dry throat.

He felt his old scar stinging painfully, like every time he was deeply affected by an overwhelming emotion, and absently brought his hand to his face to scratch the old wound. Meanwhile his eyes ran over the lines once and again, until his vision became blurry and the words began to dance on the paper, fading out from his field of vision to get materialized into his mind, where the phrases got replayed incessantly, tauntingly haunting him, evoking old reminiscences from a past he had strived, so long ago, a whole life, to silence, to bury into oblivion.

Memories of that fateful day on which his son, Kakarot, was sent out of planet on his first purging mission emerged with such force from the deepest recesses of Bardock’s psyche, that he found himself reliving those old events as if they were taking place in that precise moment.

And so, right there amidst the warmth of the royal chambers, Bardock shivered, feeling all of a sudden the crisp air of that winter morning biting at the exposed expanses of his flesh.

……………………

*Flashback*

In those days, under the government of Vejita, one of the most despotic, sanguinary and megalomaniac sovereigns in all the history of the empire; newborns as well as the rest of the citizens, were considered property of the crown and very few Saiyans were bestowed the privilege to raise their offspring. Since the very moment of their birth, children were confined in nurseries for a short interval of time, until they were sent to purge the weakest planets.

It was a cold December day that Bardock had been a father, again. Just few hours after the birth of his youngest son, and by mediation of a comrade soldier, he had the unusual luck to access the nursery and say his goodbyes. And there he was, watching with curiosity, almost enraptured, his miniature replica, a wild spiky haired baby crying at the top of his lungs.

One of the caretakers had commented that the toddler had been wailing with incredible potency for endless hours and, in his opinion, such persistence was doubtless proof that the child would become an amazing warrior. Bardock merely raised an skeptical eyebrow, not sure if the man had been sincere or simply was pitying him, trying to candy-coat the supposedly deceptive fact that the power level of the kid was one of the lowest ever heard of. But Bardock had shrugged it off; experience had proved that some Saiyans were late bloomers.

After an undefined lapse, Bardock finally advanced to the tiny crib to take the noisy infant in his arms. Upon sensing such delightful warmth and the soothing, somehow familiar scent surrounding him, little Kakarot, feeling safe and content, ceased in his wail. And when teary eyes met the serious but pleasant visage of his father, a big smile lit up his chubby face and he gurgled and cooed merrily; his little, puffy tail curling compulsively around Bardock‘s wrist, trying to coax him to prolong and tighten the embrace; as if somehow he felt he had been solely made with the purpose to be protected and comforted by strong, powerful arms.

Bardock, with his proverbial impassibility but overcome by sadness, looked intently at his clinging cub before pulling him against the crock of his neck to whisper: “Make me proud, my son.”

……………………..

Bardock, with the inconsolable crying of his son still ringing within his head, stood stiffen, fists tightly clenched, silently cursing, watching as the space-pod containing baby Kakarot took off into the sky; his pupils, stinging with unshed tears, frantically following the ship until it became an indistinct speck in the immensity of the firmament.

He had never been a sentimental man, but that innocent, affectionate look in his son’s eyes had remained deeply engraved within his soul and was doing strange things to him, shaking him in the inside and awakening alien emotions. He could not grasp the reason why, though. After all, he already had gone trough the same experience with his first son, Raditz, but he never had connected with him in that same, special and profound way.

An icy, starry night had extended its dark, dotted mantle all over the serene and oblivious land. Bardock’s gaze was still fixed on the same point of the horizon when someone had come to inform him that they had lost all signal of his son’s ship. Bardock had received stoically the news, expressionless, despite the oppressive pain tearing him apart.

Anxiety had filled the next days, awaiting for the restoration of the contact, trying to track the disappeared spacecraft. But forlorn hopes fled in the wings of time, leaving behind a heart consumed by desolation. All seemed to indicate that Kakarot had died in outer space.

After that, Bardock’s career had progressed meteorically. In his vain attempts to mitigate or at least forget his excruciating pain, Bardock always jumped into the battlefield as a desperate man with nothing to lose. Death would be a welcome console at that point of his life but there was no honor in suicide; therefore, he had resorted to volunteer himself for the most dangerous missions. But, surprisingly, all he got was a few scars and a justly gained reputation of intrepid, and soon his superiors took good notice of such unique, vicious warrior who feared nothing.

Thus, he achieved what no other third class soldier ever did: to become an elite. Furthermore, personal guard of the heir of the throne, Bejiita, who surprisingly had happened to be totally opposed to his cruel father. The prince was more practical, and his soul was that of a diplomat, the tactician surpassing the warrior in him.

And when the hated king died from apoplexy, (though rumor had it that he had finally gotten poisoned with his own bile), the first decision Bejiita took as crowned king, was to abolish the law concerning the employ of babies in purging missions, as a deference to Bardock, the brand new counselor and general of all the armies.

Meanwhile, with the years Bardock’s anguish had receded in favor of a dull sorrow that had become an almost tolerable companion. But a simple piece of paper had sufficed to stir the old agony, emerging to the surface and gnawing at his heart with the same force it did in the past. But also the dead hopes were starting to come to life again and Bardock was not sure whether it was a good or a bad thing.

----------------------------------------

When the king came back from the alcove, now in his habitual clothes, and found Bardock immersed into a state of shock, at first he stood paralyzed in disbelief, the smirk on his face swiftly replaced by an expression of genuine concern. The sight of his counselor was certainly disturbing: Looking blankly ahead, the painful inner struggle Bardock was maintaining was clearly exposed by the agitated contractions of his facial muscles and the way in which one of his hands was tightly clutching the arm of the fauteuil on which he was seated, while the other was compulsively grabbing the now crumpled piece of paper. Bejiita never had seen his counselor so distraught in all his life, so he simply did not know what to do.

After a brief instant of hesitation, finally the king stepped forward, silently, inconspicuous to the man who was immersed in such an excruciating trance, and

gently lay a hand on his shoulder. The subtle touch seemed to be sufficient to draw Bardock’s attention, for his head suddenly jolted round and his eyes rested on said hand for a moment; the paper slipping from his now relaxed grip.

“Something wrong?“ The king asked, gently.

Turning back to look ahead, with a strange glint in his eyes and an unreadable expression on his face, Bardock mumbled tremulously, “My son…” A startling punch on the table followed the unfinished statement.

Bejiita, not wanting to push him with more inquiries for the time being, simply moved to serve him more wine in the hopes that it would alleviate his distress.

“Take this, you seem to need a drink,” he uttered, trying to break the tension with a jovial tone.

Bringing avidly the recipient to quivering lips, Bardock swallowed the whole contents in one swift gulp. Only when Bardock’s breath became even and the muscles of his face less taut, evidence of a slight attenuation of his anxiety, the king ventured a question.

“May I ask what is that serious matter about?”

Bardock, unable to articulate a word due to the intensity of his emotions, exhaled a shallow sigh, handing the note to the monarch who started reading silently. But the shocking news made him involuntary voice out loud the last part of its content:

“…received a signal from ship 1984, assigned to soldier Kakarot, son of Bardock. …Coordinates differing from the intended destination, pertaining to a small planet, class C. According old records, inhabited but with life-supporting conditions …“

Bejiita could not help the excitation of his voice as he read the rest of the message.

Then, unable to overcome his stupor he gawked, fixing incredulous eyes on the tense man in front of him. Bardock seemed to have regained part of his composure, but the continuous, though almost imperceptible, tremor of his bottom lip betrayed the deep emotion seizing him, and with a vibrant gleam in his eyes he locked gazes with the king while striving to express a petition.

“He…my son, might be…” Bardock stammered, trying to swallow the lump in his throat; but, suffocated by overwhelming feelings, he could not end the sentence.

He closed his eyes tightly, laboriously drawing a mouthful of air into his lungs. There was a very little chance for his son to be alive. But what if he let his hopes arise for nothing? Would he be able to endure once again the anxiety, the angst, the tense wait? Could he survive if his renewed confidence to find his son unharmed and alive crumbled once more? Would he be capable to go through the same hell again?

He was a brave, if not the bravest of the warriors; he could take any physical pain, any attack even the most brutal without even blinking. He did not fear death, but having to deal with so complex emotions was not his forte. Why to open up the old wound again?

The response was evident for the distressed man: For Kakarot‘s sake. Bardock owed him to reach the end of the path, even if that meant more misery. In that remote planet lied the ultimate response, the fate his son underwent, would finally be unveiled, and if he happened to be dead, at least he could bid him a proper farewell and bring back home what was left of him to rest in peace for all eternity.

Bardock’s eyes were two burning flames when, fixing them intently on the king’s countenance, asked:

“I beg your permission to go in the search of my son.’’ His loud, firm and authoritative tone of voice were more demanding than pleading, and the king knew that it would be useless to oppose such fierce determination. However, true to his practical and reflexive nature, he tried to reason with the exalted general.

“Bardock, it’s been over sixteen years since your son disappeared. The probability to find him alive is so scarce, practically null…” The king bluntly trailed off.

“It is not a matter of probabilities, Bejiita, if there is a life implied what only matters is the possibility. We ignored the probabilities of his survival long ago, when we all assumed that his ship exploded or got vaporized in space. Not this time, Bejiita. He made it to that planet and the signal confirms the pod was not destroyed. Though meager, chances are that I can find my lost son.”

Bardock paused for split seconds distracted by the nervous tapping of Bejiita’s fingers over the table, seeming that the king did not share his optimism but he ignored it; he would get that permission no matter what, and so he continued, “You know how resilient those little pods are; they are made to resist the most tremendous of the impacts with scarce risks for the occupants. If the ship got to land on a planet with optimal conditions, then he is alive, he must…”

By the firmness on Bardock’s voice and the fiery, blazing tenacity and resolve rolling off from his very soul in massive waves, it was plainly useless to try and persuade him otherwise. And Bejiita knew that Bardock would go ahead with or without his consent; so he had to conceded, notwithstanding, with a defeated but at the same time sympathetic look in his eyes, for he knew he would do the same in the hypothetic case to find himself in Bardock‘s place.

“Fine…” He uttered, but at the sudden bow of gratitude from his counselor, Bejiita added, “But, I cannot allow you to go personally. Not at this precise moment with all the foreign delegations about to arrive. You are well aware that all hell will let loose over here without you to smooth things. You are the only one familiar with their petty rivalries and who has studied their customs, protocol and etiquette. I need you here, Bardock.”

When the disappointed counselor was about to reply the king cut him, adding with a mischievous smirk creeping across his lips:

“Don’t fear, for I will see to assign that mission to the only other person, besides you, that I trust with all my life. Contact my son to inform him of his new assignment. Make him clear that my strict orders are for he to go to the new coordinates right after completing his negotiations in Namek.”

When Bardock’s features began to contort into a grimace of intermingled upset and annoyance, the king rolled his eyes. It was not frequent to witness such expressiveness from his counselor, which emphasized how deeply affected the man was.

“Oh come on Bardock, tell me in honesty if, in your opinion, there is a better candidate for that mission.” The king snickered when only a muffled huff came unceremoniously from his counselor’s lips. “Do not be so grouchy about it. Let him know that I have bestowed the boy the official status of ‘protégé of the crown‘. You know the privileges such grade entails; as my representative, Vegeta will be obliged to protect him and get retribution from whoever attempt to inflict your son any harm. You know how tenacious and adamant he can become when it comes to accomplish his duties. He has the compulsive necessity to prove that he is the best at everything, even if he hates it with a passion.“

Bardock nodded in mute agreement as the king added, amused, “Now, what are you doing still here? Go and make that call!”

He did not need to be ordered twice to spring from out of his seat; the merry chuckle of the monarch accompanying his hurried tread as he headed outside the royal chambers.

TBC

LUST

Wed, 08 Aug 2007 07:30:31 GMT

Many thanks to chibigoku for beta-ing!

Disclaimer: I don't own DB/Z/GT

LUST

“Stop teasing me, bastard!” Vegeta managed to mutter between mewls and moans of bliss as Goku ran in rapid circular motions the tip of his tongue over one of the prince’s nipples. When Goku started to suck and nip the swollen nub, while squeezing and rolling the other between his fingers, Vegeta clutched the sheets, tossing his head from side to side and arching his back at the tingling sensation.

Goku continued inflicting such torture for quite a long time. When the suction became more intense and frenetic, Vegeta roared with desperate, carnal need, as his body convulsed in spasms of raw pleasure and his leaking, burning cock throbbed violently, jamming painfully against his abdomen.

Goku, ceasing his ministrations, raised his head to look up at the prince with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Oh! But I was having so much fun.” He replied playfully, puckering his lips in a fake pout.

Vegeta growled menacingly pulling Goku’s hair roughly; the younger saiyan grimaced at the rudeness of the gesture.

“Fuck me now if you don‘t want me to rip off your balls!” Vegeta ordered, his voice hoarse with dark and sinful desire, as a metallic shine in the depths of his orbs gave him the appearance of a fierce and dangerous beast.

The sight was so enticing, that Goku, groaning unable to restrain his lust anymore, lowered his head to capture with his tongue a glistening drop of precum oozing from the tip of Vegeta’s slick erection. Then, he licked his lips, savoring the exotic taste of the fluid, as he positioned his body over his lover’s, and without any preparation he shoved wildly his huge, rigid shaft into Vegeta’s hot entrance, making the prince writhe and scream in exquisite agony, as Goku howled at the incredible tightness gripping his pulsating meat..

That first pound had been fucking perfect; the way Vegeta liked it, brutal and implacable. But the next ones were even better, so forceful, so powerful, at a mad, impossibly rapid pace. His stiffened cock was flopping back and forth, about to explode, as his pleasure spot was being unrelentingly and mercilessly hit with every hard thrust of his insatiable and wild lover.

Oh, yes, this is what he had been craving for, Kakarot’s supernatural, brutal force, all for him, to serve his prince in the most delicious way.

“Damn…nghh…fuck me harder, bastard…aghhh…ngghh…more….ahhh!" Vegeta wrapped his legs around Goku’s waist to make that monstrous, glorious pole go deeper and deeper inside. Soon, both men were groaning and howling like animals, just guided by their most primal instincts.

Vegeta felt his balls tightening, announcing his imminent orgasm, and he spilled his hot seed between both of their sweaty bodies, screaming like a madman as wave after wave of extreme pleasure swept through him.

Vegeta abruptly sat upon the bed, panting heavily; his bronzed skin damp and glistening with sweat and his heart pounding madly. He brought one hand to his abdomen and felt the sticky evidence of his unconscious climax.

That damn wet dream again!

Night after night it was the same; Vegeta was starting to get frustrated.

His lust for Goku had increased over the years in spite of his, seemingly, useless attempts to get rid of it.
When he had first noticed that he was attracted to Goku, he hadn’t been capable to confess his inclinations to the other saiyan, too proud to face rejection. So, instead, Vegeta had tried to subtly seduce Goku with provocative gazes and sensual touches each time they trained together, but to no avail. The younger male was totally oblivious to the hints Vegeta was letting drop and the prince didn’t know if the man was simply too dense to notice or he just was uninterested, ignoring Vegeta’s attentions on purpose.

So Vegeta had desisted, seeing that he wasn’t making any progress. He had even refused to see the other saiyan again because; it was extremely painful to be face to face with such perfection and unable to touch it, to reach it, to get lost in it forever.

But lately, he couldn’t get the younger male out of his head: That heavenly sculpted body, his strength and irresistible charm. Damn, he had even started to wear baggy pants, because it was getting more and more impossible to hide the physical evidence of his lust under his spandex.

And the last straw, all those haunting dreams driving him mad. His unsatisfied desire making him even more irritable and grumpier than usual.

His frustration had become so unbearable that Vegeta finally decided to indulge in his urges. But first he had to find a way to get what he wanted without compromising his pride, he wouldn‘t beg to a third class, even though said third class was sexy like hell. Vegeta couldn’t suppress a malicious laughter, as he mentally put the final touches to his master plan. Oh, how he was going to enjoy it!

Goku stirred in his sleep and started to regain consciousness as a feeling of uneasiness flowed through his body. Something cold was tightly knotted around his wrists while someone was grabbing his right arm. He opened his eyes, still heavy because of the lack of rest, just to be blinded by an intense light; someone had switched the lamp on.

He blinked as a blue, blurry spot beside his bed rapidly took the form of Vegeta. Goku,now widely awake, looked up at the prince with an inquiring and slightly frightened gaze. Vegeta was tying a chain to one of the bedposts. Goku gulped, completely speechless, as the prince smirked evilly at him. Goku’s uneasiness increased as he noticed that said chain was attached to a ki restrainer locked around his right wrist.

Goku struggled to get rid of his bounds now in utter panic, convinced that the prince had finally, irremissibly lost his mind and was trying to kill him, as once he had threaten to do.

But why now? After all these years, in which they had overcome their old rivalry?

Goku couldn’t believe it. This was the man who he blindly trusted in with his life, who had become one of his closest and dearest friends.

Certainly, Vegeta had been acting strange lately, avoiding him like he was a plague, which had caused Goku a pain bigger than any other he had ever experienced. But this was impossible, preposterous… unconceivable!

Goku was panting and sweating profusely, all his attempts to undo his chains had been vainly. The ki dampers had drained all his energy. Even in his anxiety he couldn’t stop admiring how cunning and calculating tactician the prince was.

Vegeta, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He could feel the intensity of Goku’s fear; that was an unexpected bonus and he decided to toy with him just a little. So he bent down his upper body till his mouth was brushing Goku’s ear.

“Don’t worry, Kakarot. I promise it won’t hurt. At least not to you” He whispered in a profound, sensual tone, sending shivers up Goku’s spine. The younger saiyan moaned, uncertain of which sort of sensation was boiling in his veins.

Vegeta moved around to the other side of the bed and proceeded to chain Goku‘s left hand. The nervous saiyan remained silent, his breath increasingly shallow and ragged and his forehead covered with thick drops of sweat. He rolled his eyes, utterly confused as Vegeta, with a predatory expression on his face, removed Goku’s boxers.

Then the prince undressed himself, slowly, first taking off his tank top, giving out a wicked grin. Then, licking his lips, he started to seductively tweak his nipples between his fingers.

Vegeta’s sensual display was making something stir deep inside of the younger saiyan, a tingling sensation all through his body, and he couldn’t help the hiss that escaped from his mouth, feeling all himself suddenly consumed by an intense heat.

When the elder saiyan yanked down his pants, letting out an impressive, menacing erection, Goku gasped, trembling, as a terrifying thought crossed his mind. Vegeta was going to rape him. No, it couldn’t be. If there was one word to describe the prince that would be honorability, he would never ever commit such a despicable act.

Indifferent at the inner turmoil assailing the younger male, Vegeta let his eyes flutter all over Goku’s figure: All that ivory, creamy, silky skin; the virile and powerful muscles; the sweet, beautiful eyes; the luscious, glossy lips…The pure image of perfection.

Now that he had his alluring prey exactly the way he had planned: naked and securely shackled on the mattress; Vegeta crawled onto the bed and straddling him, started to grind his erection against Goku’s member, noticing how, the younger saiyan was gradually growing harder.

Goku, with half lidded eyes gleaming with passion , moaned faintly as he slowly succumbed to the pleasurable sensations his prince was providing. He started to buck his hips up trying to get more friction on his aching arousal, writhing, panting, whispering Vegeta‘s name as a desperate need took possession of his entire self.

The prince bent down and crushed his lips against Goku’s in a rough kiss. When the younger saiyan felt Vegeta’s moist tongue ravaging the insides of his mouth, he squirmed and struggled once again to get rid of his ties, this time with the purpose to wrap his arms around the hot body that was driving him to hysterics.

He was burning to touch that tantalizing skin, to trace Vegeta‘s curves with his fingers, to grab and squeeze his firm buttocks.

The prince broke the kiss smirking at Goku’s sudden urge. The younger saiyan had surrendered to his prince and finally was his; this was the sweetest victory of his life.

“Vegeta, please!” Goku begged, frantically trashing on the bed and looking imploringly at his tormentor.

The elder saiyan slowly inched his body down to make visual contact with Goku’s now fully erect penis. The prince shuddered, moaning slightly. It was even more impressive than in his wild dreams. Then he ran his tongue over his lips, looking hungrily and mesmerized at that rigid object of his most intimate and forbidden passion, his only god and faith, the sun around his entire world turned and gravitated.

Yearning, dying for feeling it penetrating all his orifices, the debauched prince, incapable to repress his lust anymore, grabbed his adored idol and started to stroke it slow but relentlessly, eliciting a moan from the younger saiyan, who was trembling like a leaf under that expert hand.

Soon the shaft started to get slick with precum. Vegeta brought his soaked hand to his mouth and licked greedily till the last drop. When the bitter but, strangely, delectable flavor invaded his taste buds he felt a jolt of electricity charging through him, and his cock started to leak in response. He slid his pink tongue out of his mouth and avidly darted it all around and over the head of Goku’s length to get more of that nectar.

Then Vegeta captured one of Goku’s balls into his mouth and started to suck it while fondling the other, still stroking the hard cock.

A loud groan erupted from Goku’s throat as he flexed and inflexed his ankles and clenched his fists. Then a scream of ecstasy resounded all through the room as the prince engulfed Goku’s cock till the base. The prince bobbed his head up and down, faster and faster. His head dizzy with the addictive, musky scent and taste of Goku’s arousal.

The hot, the wetness, the suction; it was all too much. Goku was near the edge. He tried to rock his hips up but Vegeta had him firmly pressed against the mattress.

Goku grunted in frustration as suddenly the ardent, talented mouth moved away, leaving his poor, neglected erection throbbing miserably at the lost. But Vegeta had other plans; Goku wasn’t the only one in urgent need of relief.

He straddled again the younger saiyan and lifting his ass up, aligned his entrance with Goku’s weeping manhood and descended brusquely on it, impaling himself so hard and deep that he couldn’t stop screaming in both pain and pleasure, while a cry of pure bliss emerged from Goku’s mouth at the feeling of that impossible tightness around his engorged and stiffen flesh.

Vegeta remained motionless for an instant, relishing in that indescribable, scorching sensation of being so painfully but blissfully stretched. But, consumed by passion, he immediately started to ride that pole at a frantic rhythm; bouncing wildly up and down, while constricting the inner muscles of his rectum with every thrust, driving the younger saiyan crazy.

Goku was clutching his chains, moving his head from side to side, groaning and whimpering in an indescribable state of ecstasy. He bit his lower lip drawing some drops of coppery blood as he rocked his hips up and down to meet each shove of his passionate lover.

Vegeta ran his hands over his own feverish body as an intense pleasure ripped trough him. He rubbed and pinched his nipples, moaning out loud, never ceasing his frenetic movements. His screams increased in force once he angled his hips to get his prostate beaten with every thrust. Tears of hysterics streamed down his face, he was about to explode in million pieces.

Vegeta grabbed his own slick cock and began to pump it vigorously, as he felt cum building in his testicles. The rate became more erratic and violent with every pound, both pushing up and down so furiously that the bed started to shake, menacing to collapse.

The roars of the two frenzied saiyans echoed all around as they were immersed in a state of nirvana. Nothing else mattered anymore; nobody else existed, but them. The entire universe could disappear and go to hell, as long as this overwhelming and intense feeling would persist.

Too soon for his liking, the prince ejaculated crying out Kakarot’s name for the whole world to hear. As he spitted gallons of creamy sperm all over Goku‘s chest and abdomen, his inner muscles clamped around Goku’s cock so tightly that the younger saiyan, convulsing and howling like a possessed, shot his liquid fire in thick, incessant spurts. Torrents of hot semen flooded deep inside the prince, who moaned as a spasm shook his whole body.

Vegeta collapsed onto Goku’s body as the younger saiyan was panting heavily and shuddering, still buried inside the prince.
When Vegeta felt Goku’s manhood softening inside of him, he grunted desperately as that beautiful sensation of being so extremely filled vanished like smoke. He had felt so complete, so damn alive! He decided in that precise instant that he would never let Kakarot escape from his side.

Then, a strangled screech and a loud thump startled both worn out men from the dizziness of their wonderful climax. They looked at the door, where the strange noises had come from, and saw a fainted Chichi sprawled on the floor.

Vegeta chuckled and then, ignoring the woman, got out of bed to release his captive from his chains. Then he lay again beside his Kakarot, embracing him tightly, devouring his lips in a fierce kiss.

Soon they were ready for a second round. Vegeta couldn’t stop trembling in anticipation; if the pleasure had been so intense with Goku completely drained of energy, now with all his power and strength recovered, it was going to be the hell of a fuck.

Mon, 06 Aug 2007 17:08:46 GMT

These are two AMVs made by myself. Both VegetaxGoku:
For "Sexy thing Goku" I used cels from the anime, a bit of an episode of DBZ and a couple of drawings from a doujinshi (I think the title is "access", if you want the link to get some scans from that doujinshi, of some others, ask <3)
For "Passion starts here" I used some drawings of my friend XxChiChixX (This are the links to her wonderful galleries:
Visit her gallery on DA, it's really worthy: http://xxchichixx.deviantart.com/gallery/
And all her SMEXY :drool: stuff is on this link: http://www.paperdemon.com/rcprofile/487

Well these are the slide-shows, enjoy!:

PLAYTIME 15

Mon, 06 Aug 2007 16:55:28 GMT

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own DB/Z/GT.

Especial thanks to my wonderful and generous Beta, chibigoku for her dedication and great work(You're the best!).

Thanks EVERYBODY for reading.

(About this chapter, you should remember the pendulum room: When Krillin, Yamcha, Thenshiam and Chaotzu were training with Kami while waiting the arrival of Vegeta and Nappa, they entered that room and they could fight with two saiyans, to know what to expect from their enemies and be prepared.)

I want to dedicate this fic to someone who has been a source of light and joy to keep me going: my German angel, my princess, my love, my Bijou; this is my humble present for you. (Ich liebe dich, Engel)

PLAYTIME

Chapter Fifteen

Goku was finally ready for the ultrasound, not after a little commotion: When Arale finished explaining the procedure, the younger saiyan, suddenly going pale and hyperventilating, had retreated to shelter behind Vegeta and, wrapping his arms and tail around his mate tightly, had refused categorically to let her go near his belly. So Arale, baffled at her friend’s reaction, but not wanting to intensify Goku’s distress, allowed the prince to assist her during the process.

Goku remained stuck to Vegeta for a longer while, until the prince, practically immobilized and suffocated by his clinging mate, had whispered gentle words of affection managing to calm down the younger saiyan, who loosing his grasp on Vegeta, went to lie down on the exploration table.

Goku breathed deeply and then tilted his head to look at the elder saiyan; Vegeta was pouring a little amount of gel on his hands carefully and Goku could not help but smile lovingly at the concentrated expression on Vegeta‘s face.

The younger saiyan sighed, assailed by a sudden sensation of intense and profound melancholy; if his so called friends could see the prince like that, through Goku’s eyes, so caring and devoted to his companion and no more that soulless killer he was in the past, maybe they could forget all their prejudices and start to accept them.

Truth be told, Goku, himself, had done nothing to save their friendship; but he needed a little more time to heal the wound so he could trust in them again; then, maybe things could get back to the way they used to be.

Goku hissed, all his gloomy thoughts interrupted, as a slight chill ran through his body at the sensation of something cold and sticky all over his abdomen. But Vegeta was so delicately and amorously spreading the jelly, with a sweet smile adorning his royal features, that same smile reserved only for his mate, making Goku feel so warm inside that all discomfort and anxiety were forgotten in a blink of an eye.

Then, Vegeta, following Arale’s instructions grabbed the transducer and placed it on Goku’s belly, sweeping it back and forth.

“You are very lucky, the clinic has bought a new 3D Scanner. With this equipment you will see a very realistic image of your baby, not like those blurred ones of the old equipment” Arale commented, as the first images began to appear. She turned the console to the right so the impatient and expectant parents could see the screen.

“And this is your child, a boy.” Her words were barely audible as Goku’s tail started to pound on the table as wildly as his heart in his chest. He wanted to cry and jump as a feeling of overwhelming happiness flooded throughout him in massive waves, but the only thing he could do was to clutch tightly Vegeta’s hand.

The prince had been rendered speechless, too. He watched the image with veneration while his mind was trying to process the deep and true significance of it all: His offspring, another full-blooded saiyan, son of two legendaries. So real; that face, the tiny body, his little chest moving up and down; he was alive, and was his and Kakarot‘s…Vegeta was brought out of his dazed daydream by Goku’s laughter.

“He’s sucking his thumb! And look at his tiny tail, and… he’s so perfect, don’t you think so?” Goku’s words emerged hastily through his lips, in his excitement. And his uncontrolled tail seemed to have a life of its own, making all kind of impossible movements and pirouettes. Soon, soft purrs filled the room as Vegeta, smiling, lowered his head to kiss chastely Goku’s forehead.

“Of course he’s perfect, silly… he’s yours.” The younger saiyan looked at him mystified at the intention in Vegeta’s statement. Those simple but sincere words entailed more than a mere compliment to his mate: admiration, pride and, what Goku perceived as adoration. All those sentiments flowed from locked eyes, as they silently held each other gaze for seconds that seemed to last an eternity. But they immediately turned to look at the screen again, unable to keep their eyes apart from that little piece of life blooming within Goku.

“Look, he’s yawning.” Goku stared in awe, with the same innocent and genuine fascination of a child unwrapping Christmas presents. Meanwhile, Vegeta was paying equal attention to both, his son, and Kakarot’s beaming face, feeling more and more light-headed by the moment, as if intoxicated by an exotic liquor. Wanting to retain that image forever.

An amusing idea crossed Vegeta’s mind and he smirked mischievously. He placed the palm of his hand on Goku’s belly and let his energy flow slowly. On the screen, a faint glow appeared surrounding the child for a second. Suddenly, the baby curved his lips in what it looked like a smile and started to sway his tail back and forth, to the parents’ delight and to Arale’s stupefaction.

“It tickles” Goku’s jovial laugh rang out as Vegeta moved his hand over his mate’s belly, sending little amounts of ki at random directions, making his son shift more and more agitatedly. The baby’s ki sparkled as he stretched and shook his arms, opening and closing his hands, and started kicking with his legs, making Goku hissed and fidget. Upon seeing his mate’s discomfort, Vegeta cut the game and petted affectionately Goku’s hair. The baby gradually stopped his movements, and after yawning, he started to suck his tiny thumb again, finally calmed.

Arale had remained immobile, like a statue, unable to react; her eyes bulging out and her mouth frozen open, so wide and for so long that her jaw had become almost permanently disjointed. But finally, she snapped out of her shock, and, after blinking several times, she watched the screen again. Once she finished her study, she looked smiling at the enthralled parents.

“Now get ready to hear how life sounds; this is your baby's heartbeat.” She announced while pressing a button, and immediately a loud and rhythmic bang started to resound, leaving the couple absolutely breathless. For a long while, both saiyans remained mesmerized; their hands intertwined; loud, happy purrs erupting from their chests and their faces transfigured, beaming with pure joy. It cost an epic effort to persuade them to allow the machine to be switch off; they stopped growling only after Arale gave them a disk where all of the session had been recorded.

“Now let’s go back to my office, there’s some things I want to discuss with you.” Both men obeyed, following her without a protest.

“About your health, Goku, all seems to be in order. We have to wait, though, for the results of the urine test, it will take a couple of days. Now, about the information obtained with the ultrasound; obviously I can’t be sure about the baby’s grade of development. Externally he’s apparently totally formed, but the lungs and the brain mature very late in the pregnancy, once these organs are completely developed, the baby will be ready to be born. So the birth could take place in few days. All I can assure you, seeing how rapid the child has grown, is that it won’t take more than a month. We must start to prepare all the necessary. And Goku, I want you to call me if you feel something strange, any time of the day, no matter if it‘s just a false alarm.”

“That won’t be a problem, we can be perfectly prepared. One or two days before the birthing Kakarot’s energy will be restored and I will be able to sense his ki again.”

“That‘s wonderful! We can hospitalize you immediately when that occurs, that way we can check your state and the baby’s, and we’ll be ready to react rapidly if there‘s one or two complications. That will diminish the danger; but to be honest, Goku, I’m very worried. You have to assume the idea that yours and the baby’s life could be at stake. A C-section is major surgery and, though it’s highly secure for earthling women, your case is very different, Goku. I don’t know your inner structure; the ultrasound has been very helpful, I’ve seen the position and size of the uterus and other, nearby organs which could interfere or cause a problem of any kind; that minimizes the risk considerably, but not totally. The procedure consist in making an incision across the abdomen, right above the pelvis; but I don’t know the thickness of your epidermis or the disposition of your circulatory system. I can’t be sure if it’s different from the human’s so I don’t know exactly where or how deep to cut.

If I tear a vital artery, you could die in a few seconds, there wouldn’t be any time for a transfusion. And the anesthesia will be a problem too, I don’t know which substance and the dosage that could be effective on you without any damage for the baby. It will be like playing Russian roulette; we depend highly on luck.” Arale frowned seeing Goku’s worried expression; she knew she had been too crude, but Goku had the right to know the truth.

“But you won’t let my baby die, will you? Please Arale, I don’t care what happens to me, but promise he will be fine.” At Goku’s distress, Vegeta jumped from his seat, too agitated to remain still for any longer.

“Nobody’s going to die, nor you, nor our son.” Vegeta blurted out with conviction, his serious countenance dulcified with a shine of concern in his eyes. Then he added in a more authoritative tone while laying a determined gaze on Arale: “When the moment comes, I won’t bring him here, the labor will take place at the lookout. Dende will assist you.” Noticing Arale’s confused look, Vegeta simply stated, “He possesses healing powers.” Arale’s curiosity, though tinged with certain skepticism, flared at that revelation.

“If that’s true, then I would like to talk with that Dende.” The two saiyans were more than willing to take her to the lookout, so in a few minutes they were flying to the place.

Dende headed outside the meditation chamber, after finishing his daily exercises, in time to see Goku getting down off of Kintoun with Vegeta’s help. He welcomed his visitors with a warmly smile, eliciting in return one of Goku’s radiant beams and a grunt from Vegeta.

The young namekian was stepping toward the couple when a feeble moan caught his attention. He turned his head to the left, where the sound had came from, with curiosity. There, close to the edge, stood a slender woman, gulping and shivering, all color drained from her face, as she looked down in panic-stricken fascination at the impressive sight: nothing else but a vast and limpid sky crossed by white, cottony clouds, like foam over an ocean of serene waters.

She felt irremissibly attracted to that void, so terrible in its strange beauty; calling her, whispering with a sensual and tempting voice within her head. She was experiencing an indescribable sensation, like a dejavu or a longing for something lost, something unknown but at the same time familiar; and her whole life passed before her eyes as she took a step forward to embrace the eternity. Before she could fall, two arms grabbed her urgently, but with gentleness to push her away from there, back into safety.

“You should be more careful, miss.” In marked contrast with the slow, harmonious cadence and the warm tones of his voice, the peculiar, shocking, appearance of the green creature was not doing much to help Arale to emerge from her dazed state.

“Dende, this is my friend Arale” Only the soothing, familiar voice of Goku, brought her back fully into reality, and, regaining her composure, she greeted politely the namekian. The young guardian smiled at her in response, then he looked inquiringly at the pregnant saiyan.

“What can I do for you, Goku?”

“Dende, we need a favor; we think it would be safer if the birth would take place here, we might need your help.”

“Sure, Goku, anything for you.”

“Arale’s going to help us with the delivery, but she’s afraid because there could be certain complications. I’ve told her about your powers and she wants to talk to you about it.” The young namekian let his stare flutter from Goku’s friendly features to fix it on the little woman.

“Of course, miss, I will gladly give you all the information you may require to help Goku.” As he was speaking, he motioned his visitors to sit on a bench nearby one of the lookout’s flowerbeds.

“Thank you and call me Arale, please.” She replied sweetly, with a kind smile adorning her face, while taking seat beside Dende. Then, with a graver expression, she asked: “What is the extent of your powers? Can you cure any kind of damage, or are there some limitations?”

“I can make any physical pain disappear, repair all kinds of injuries, amend broken bones and damaged organs, and even cure some simple diseases.”

“I see. And in the case of a severe hemorrhage, could you stop it ?“ Dende simply nodded.

Goku, who had remained standing up, went pale all of a sudden. He already knew the risks, but their friends were talking about him in an aseptic tone, almost with indifference, as though he was just an anonymous stranger. Whether it was involuntary, or purposely just to try not to upset him; they were affecting him in a very negative way.

Vegeta gritted his teeth in an attempt to dominate his anger to tend to his distraught mate. What Goku needed was comfort, not a grumpy, uncontrolled brute, so, after sending a death glare at the woman, he gently held Goku’s hand and whispered with a soothing voice: “Come, Kakarot, I know what you need: a backrub and a good meal.”

Goku nodded, smiling, in agreement, following Vegeta on his way to one of the rooms. But before leaving, the prince ordered Mr.popo, who was watering the flowers, to bring them some food. Arale and Dende were too engrossed on their conversation to notice the couple’s absence.

“I need to know how fast can you act for the blood loss not to be fatal.”

“It could take me from some seconds to several minutes, it depends on the severity of the injury.” Arale furrowed her brow with worry at Dende‘s response.

“And what about that magical beans Goku told me about?”

“Their effect is immediate, they can repair any damage in split seconds, but once ingested.”

“Umm…that could be a problem, because he could be unconscious and we could waste precious time trying to get him swallow the bean. We can only trust that working together nothing serious will happen.” Arale sighed; though not totally satisfactory, her conversation with Dende had let her more at ease.

Then, at her request, Dende took her to inspect the place, room by room. Onc e she decided which could be the better place or the birth, she gave Dende some instructions to sterilize the chamber and to install an adequate system of ventilation. After that, they went to meet the couple, who had finished a copious meal and were still sitting at the table, with twin, sated expressions on their faces.

“Hi, Arale, why don’t you sit and eat something, the food here is great.” Goku said happily, nothing like a good meal to brighten his mood.

“No, thanks.” The woman could not suppress a grin of amusement upon seeing Goku’s face, with some grains of rice and other rests stuck around his mouth.

“Well, If you have finished we can get back home.” Stated Vegeta, standing up while handing a napkin to Goku.

“Yes, now I’m more optimistic, but still I’d wish to know the surgical technique used by your people, If I could have everything under control I would proceed with more confidence. I could never forgive myself if I cause you or the baby any harm.” She replied, looking at Goku with resignation.

Mr. Popo, who had remained discreetly apart in a corner of the room waiting in the case the couple would need his services, stepped forward coughing to make his presence noticeable.

“May I suggest something?” He asked politely, with four curious gazes suddenly fixed on him.

“There’s a way to acquire the knowledge you need.” The succinct statement seemed to awaken the others’ interest and hopes.

“How?” The three visitors asked in unison.

“The pendulum room” Was the mere response as impatience flickered across Vegeta’s face in the form of a scowl, waiting for a more elaborated explanation.

“Oh, yes; I remember that place, I‘ve already been there.” At Goku’s exclamation, Mr. Popo looked at him nodding.

“It’s a room were time and space don’t exist as we know them. Where past, present and future are intimately interconnected and the line between dimensions is very thin, almost inexistent, making possible to travel to any place and any epoch with your thoughts. Those whose admission is granted are given the chance to get to know themselves better and to know their limitations and how to exceed them, before acquiring the knowledge needed to achieve any kind of goal.” Three sets of widely open eyes, including Dende who in spite of being the guardian didn’t know that place, looked at Mr.Popo with amazed attention, while the irritated prince fidgeted with nervousness.

“Then take us there, hurry, we have already wasted too much time.” Vegeta commanded harshly, not caring to ask Arale if she acceded to undergo that trial.

Mr. Popo looked at Dende mutely asking for his consent and the young namekian nodded.

“Follow me” Mr. Popo said, heading towards the chamber. Once they stepped inside, all of them, even the reserved prince, looked around, stupefied.

The place could not be described as a room, at least not in the most conventional sense of the term: no walls, no limits. They seemed to have entered the very realm of supreme, infinite darkness, except for a phosphorescent gleam of a reddish color, titillating several meters ahead. As the group stepped closer, they could see a big circle on the floor with an intricate pattern of symbols and characters engraved all over the surface, from where the light emanated. And above the circle, a giant pendulum oscillating inexorably and unrelenting. All of them stared in mute astonishment, even Vegeta despite his futile attempt to appear indifferent.

“Miss, please step towards the center of the circle.” But before Arale could make any movement, Goku was already walking determinedly forward, excited at the prospect to live a new adventure. But Vegeta stopped him, grabbing him by one arm.

“Kakarot, where do you think you’re going?” Though Vegeta’s tone had sounded less reprimanding and disapproving than he had really intended, Goku frowned, slightly annoyed.

“We can’t let her go alone, Vegeta; that would be very inconsiderate.”

Vegeta was irremissibly unarmed at Goku’s pleading and anxious gaze. There it was: that fire burning in the depths of Goku’s eyes, that passion, that yearning for something new, rare, exotic, a new challenge to make him feel alive. It had been too long since he had seen that look on Goku’s face.

It was that same ardent gaze Vegeta had felt penetrating his soul when they first fought and later, when Goku had first ascended in Namek. Those flames had consumed the prince till his very core because of the passion and promise they held. And they had found echo in his tortured soul, awakening and fueling his own longing, nurturing his pride to finally achieve his old but never forgotten purpose to become the legendary.

Such indelible image; those piercing, blazing eyes, always present in his mind; had compelled the elder saiyan to stay on Earth, to go in Goku’s help whenever he was in danger, to surpass all his limitations and expectations, even the most delirious.

That deep impression left inside his soul, had made Vegeta almost go mad during the long, interminable years Goku had remained in the otherworld. Unbeknownst to himself, Vegeta had been craving for that fire for years, he had secretly desired to become once again the instigator of such passion. That was the reason to let himself be possessed by Babidi.

That fire could make the world go round, could be the only motor of the entire universe; who could resist that? Who would have the heart to deny anything, whatever, in the presence of such magnificent and devastating beauty?

“Are you absolutely sure that Kakarot won’t be in danger?” Vegeta asked, a slight tinge of resignation dancing faintly between the harsh and menacing tones of his voice.

“Until now, nobody has been more than once in this place, so I don’t know what effects this might have on Goku.” Vegeta started to growl upon hearing Mr.Popo’s unsettling words. It hadn’t been his intention to upset the irascible prince, so the man rapidly added in a reassuring tone: “What you may experience will be only in your head, your mind will be immersed in a virtual reality while your body remain here. There’s no way to be physically affected.”

“You better be telling the truth, because if Kakarot or my son suffer any damage I will blast you into oblivion.” The anger shining in Vegeta’s eyes made the usually serene and impassible man shiver and swallow in fear, at the certainty that it was not a vain threat. Then, the prince sighed in defeat, consenting not without reluctance, and, clutching firmly Goku’s hand in a protective way, walked towards the circle.

Once the three were positioned under the massive pendulum, they closed their eyes slowly, following Mr. Popo’s instructions. For a fleeting instant, the oppressive silence was only disrupted by their shallow breathing; but suddenly, a sort of crack startled the group, while a potent shaft of light engulfed them. They felt their heads spinning and their bodies twisting, as if they were immersed in a whirlwind and the whole world around them were exploding into pieces. But suddenly all chaos ceased, replaced by total calm and quietness. And they felt so light, so ethereal, like floating in space at zero gravity.

They opened their eyes, with a sensation of light giddiness that only lasted a few seconds, and they took a look at their surroundings. In front of them there was a solid-built, grey edifice, surrounded by gardens of luxurious and wild vegetation, denoting a taste for nature in its pure state. And above their heads a limpid, blue sky, with some orangey and pinkish traces, crowned by a dense sheet of white clouds, which served to mitigate the unbearable intensity of the burning sunbeams.

“What is this place?” Goku asked with a childish curiosity but unfazed, as though all of this was an every day happening. Arale only could stare in wonder, motionless. And Vegeta, incredulous, stood with his mouth widely open, unable to articulate a word, while staring in shock at the strange characters written upon the entry. He had recognized the place and remained for a while relishing in the remembrances and emotions evoked by that sight. Finally, regaining his composure, he responded to Goku’s question.

“We are in Vegetasei, and this is a hospital.” Goku couldn’t help it but unconsciously start stepping backwards, and Vegeta sighed shaking his head at Goku’s predictable reaction.

“We don‘t need to enter, Kakarot. I‘m sure the woman will manage by herself.”

Arale nodded, smiling sympathetically at Goku.

“I‘ll be alright Goku. You can wait for me here, don’t worry” As she stepped inside, Vegeta held Goku’s hand and they leisurely walked down the lane towards a nearby garden. Vegeta wanted to find a nice, shady and cool place under the trees, where Goku could rest comfortably.

All was so idyllic: The fresh breeze carrying the sweet perfumes of a perpetual spring, the warmth and the calm, the sounds of nature; even the usually prickly Vegeta let himself loose and was starting to enjoy those simple pleasures, when suddenly, he felt, like a punch, an intense and powerful wave of uneasiness coming from his companion. He furrowed his brow with anxiety as he focused his eyes on Goku.

“Kakarot…” He wasn’t able to continue, the words froze in his lips as he saw Goku’s expression, a mix of utter panic and madness. He could sense how Goku’s body tensed before starting to tremble like a leaf, with his gaze lost beyond the horizon, seeming to pursue a mirage behind the distant clouds. Despair and anxiety assailed Vegeta at the frustrating certainty that something was very wrong with his mate and he couldn’t do anything to help him .

“Kakarot, what happens?” Alarm flickered nervously in the prince’s voice, as Goku slipped his hand from out of Vegeta’s grip.

“Can’t you hear them?” Goku asked, with an unreadable expression on his face and a faraway look in his eyes.

“Who, Kakarot? What are you talking about? I only hear the birds in the trees and the crunch of dry leaves under our feet.” Vegeta tried to maintain an appearance of calm, but he could feel every pore of his skin distilling beads of cold sweat and every hair of his body standing on end, at Goku’s atypical and frightening conduct.

“They’re calling me. They’re trying to warn us, but their words are just muffled sounds. I can’t understand. I must know, I must go to them.” Then Goku started to run at unimaginable speed, his face contorted with a grimace of insanity. Vegeta tried to chase him but to no avail, though he was much faster than Goku; with each step forward, the distance between them increased more and more.

That damned place defied all laws of Physics, and Vegeta was starting to consider the crazy idea that it had a mind of its own, a very sinister one, capable to plot the most wicked schemes, all with the purpose to break him.

In an attempt to banish those absurd thoughts from his mind, Vegeta clenched his eyes tightly shut and tried to focus all his attention on the image of Kakarot‘s radiant face the very first moment he saw their son. That was enough to give him sufficient strength to redouble his efforts, to run faster. He couldn’t let Kakarot drift away, he had to protect his mate. His heart was pounding wildly, menacing to explode, and his lungs burnt like hell with every breath. But Goku, some steps ahead, seemed refreshed and full of energy.

“Kakarot, come back, here” Vegeta’s desperate, pleading shout was in vain; the fugitive persisted in hunting an imaginary shadow. The prince came to a halt, completely exhausted, to try to catch his breath. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, still panting heavily, trying not to lose sight of his companion.

When Vegeta noticed, baffled, that Goku didn’t seem to advance despite that he kept on running, a meager hope arose. Maybe this time he could capture his frenzied mate. Vegeta powered up and resumed the pursuit.

But he noticed in dismay, that the faster he advanced the farther from his mate he became. He stopped again and tried to establish telepathic communication with Goku through their mental link, but all he got was a terrible headache.

“It’s him, the man in my dreams. Look he’s there right in front of us and he’s calling me.” Goku replied loudly pointing at an empty space. He had finally paused and stood just at one arm distance from Vegeta; but each time the prince reached out to touch the younger saiyan, the gap between them widened all of a sudden.

“Who, Kakarot? There’s nobody there, I only see trees.” Vegeta replied with a tired voice.

“There, Vegeta, the man with the scar on his face, he’s waiting for me. He wants to tell me something about our son.” Then Goku fled again across the meadow.

Vegeta froze in place at Goku‘s last words and stood paralyzed by fear and confusion. He should never have allowed the younger saiyan to come.

Suddenly, the prince found himself immersed in the midst of the most absolute, impenetrable obscurity. After rubbing his eyes in an attempt to adjust his vision to the darkness, he opened them again. The blurred contours he could barely make out at first, gradually acquired a more distinctly and recognizable form as a pale gleam timidly broke through the black veil. When finally light won the battle and the last shreds of darkness had completely dissipated, he noticed two things: the landscape had changed dramatically and, what was more important, Kakarot had disappeared and was nowhere to be seen.

Vegeta took a more careful look at his surroundings; he was standing in a desolated, rocky terrain and, in front of him, a profound abyss blocking his way.

He tried to blast off into the sky but he felt attracted to the ground by an irresistible force.

He made some other attempts, after ascending to different levels of supersaiyan, but the higher the level the heavier his limbs felt, finding impossible even to walk. So he changed back into his normal form and tried to jump to the other side. He stepped backward so he could have enough space to take a run-up, but though he was moving back, the distance to the breach was always the same: two steps ahead.

He tried to jump nonetheless. The satisfied smile of victory on his face as his body was propelled over the abyssal fracture, vanished, immediately replaced by an angry scowl the very same moment his feet touched the ground. It had been useless, the rift was still before him.

He turned around but no matter wherever he headed, the ominous breach was always there, it would pursue him till the end of the world.

He was living the most horrifying of his nightmares: the black and deep void always standing in his way to the light; so close but unreachable. Vegeta felt trapped and defeated, tired of this cruel game.

At this point, only thoughts of Kakarot helped him to keep his rage and fury at bay, preventing him from going berserk in a rampage of chaos and destruction. His mate was lost and apparently affected by transitory madness and Vegeta had to help him, had to think clearly to find a way out.

So, instead of blasting the damned place into pieces, he just groaned in frustration and then, closing his eyes, took a deep breath. The key was in his mind. His mind! How could he have been so blindly stupid?

That reality was only in his head; so if he could concentrate enough maybe he could control this place with the sole power of his will. He could go wherever he wanted without restrictions, without obstacles, only with his imagination; and he could find Kakarot and make him recover his sanity.

Though Vegeta was not an enthusiast of meditation; (his idea of pure enjoyment only included Kakarot and fighting, separately or simultaneously), in his compulsive necessity to excel in all and each of his skills, he dominated the technique with absolute perfection.

Vegeta slowed his breath and relaxed his body reaching a state of lucid trance in which all his mental capacities and his senses were intensified, sharpened; he had gotten in tune with his spirit. He let all his inner barriers fall, even those lifted to protect himself from his past, from the horror, and canalized all his energy from the last of his cells throughout his body to concentrate it all in his mind. A sensation of delirious euphoria swept through his entire self as he returned to the virtual reality, feeling more powerful and confident than ever. He had the conviction that this time nothing would get in his way.

But before he could make any movement, long time forgotten but familiar snickers echoed all through the place and two figures strolled from out of the shadows, slowly but with an air of insufferable arrogance.

The macabre laughter never ceased as Vegeta, clenching his fists, recognized the intruders.

“You!” Was all he could exclaim, in disbelief, while struggling to repress his anger.

“My, my, is that the proper way to greet old friends?” The blonde, more corpulent guy asked, smirking boastfully. Vegeta had almost forgotten his old malice. It was strange to see himself the way he once had been, like looking at one of those mirrors at the fair, which could distort, instead of the external appearance, one’s personality and soul. He felt sick and ashamed as he fixed his stare on the M carved on Majin’s forehead, a painful reminder of his degradation.

Vegeta stumbled; he felt his stomach lurch inside, nauseated at the reek of decay irradiating in powerful waves from the sickening creature, that was the genuine scent of evil. Since Freeza, few times after he had sensed it. He wondered how Kakarot had been able to forgive him and tolerate his presence after the Majin incident.

“Look at you, a pitiful and pathetic creature!” Exclaimed the other personage, a younger version of Vegeta, clad in his green old armor, the one he used to wear while serving under the lizard. The smug expression on his face was identical to that of his sidekick.

“What are you doing here?“ Vegeta asked, still clenching his fists with such force that some drops of blood oozed from the palm of his hand. He was losing the battle against his wrath; it was there, burning in his eyes, menacing to burst with the force of a tornado and to reduce the world to ashes.

“You should know the response.” The youngest Vegeta’s tone was venomous and pungent. If the circumstances were different, the actual Vegeta would have noticed the drastic change his voice, as many others aspects of his personality, had suffered with the course of time. Now, it was richer and more profound, and had lost most of his acrimony, acquiring some ironic tinges, mixed with a touch of tenderness. This last quality exacerbated in Goku’s presence. But the situation was too tense to dedicate a thought to such triviality.

“We are part of you like your own shadow.” A chill ran up Vegeta’s spine at Majin’s statement.

“No, that cannot be true. I got rid of you a long time ago. I’m nobody’s slave, nobody can control me. Now I’m free. Kakarot is my only owner, and by my own choice.” Vegeta replied with anxiety, as he retreated some steps backwards.

“Are you sure of that? Then, how do you explain our presence?” Majin asked, getting so close that Vegeta was able to sense his repulsive breath blowing on his earlobe.

“You’re in denial.” The youngest added, as he moved till he was, too, mere inches apart, at the other side of his present self.

“No, no,…”He screamed, pushing away both of his harassers.

“Really? Then, what is making you hold back?” Both asked in unison, walking around the prince and taunting him with his repulsive and irritating sneers.

“What?” Vegeta squeaked in confusion, feeling a persistent hammering in his temples, prelude of a painful migraine.

“You don‘t have your tail yet, you can‘t complete the bond. You are denying your mate. Why?”

“I…” No other sound came out from his dry lips as he felt a pang of guilt constricting his heart. The contorted expression on his face, though rather expressive, was not enough to reveal the authentic dimension of his agony. Because they were right; he was denying Kakarot, his mate, who had so selflessly given himself to the prince, in body and soul.

“Won‘t you tell us? It doesn’t matter; Vegeta. We have the answer. You’re afraid, you little coward.” They callously blurted out, stopping their incessant pace around the flustered and dizzy prince to stand right in front of him. Vegeta remained wordless; the cold sweat running in thick drops from his forehead and his labored breath were the only response at the glances of contempt he was receiving from his tormentors.

“You’re terrified to open yourself up, you fear his rejection if he gets to discover the real extent of your past iniquity. What would Kakarot think of you if he knew each and all of your crimes, the annihilation of entire races, perpetrated with such cold blood, with such despise for life. Could he forgive the execution of so many innocents, helpless children and mothers, while you were enjoying the bloodbath laughing at the victims‘ face? And what would he do knowing that some dregs of cruelty and evil still linger within you; that we’re still here, buried in a dirty corner of your mind waiting to creep our way out to take control over you once again?”

Vegeta bit his lips and, for a moment, his confidence faltered, feeling ashamed of himself. He had tried so hard to forget his past; it had been haunting and nurturing his nightmares for years, and when he thought to have come to terms with it, it was there again, spitting at his face, menacing to destroy his happiness.

“Remorse? From the all mighty prince? Pft, pathetic! But, do you know what‘s even more pathetic? Your greatest fear: that Kakarot finds out that you're still envious of him, that you haven‘t completely accepted and forgiven the fact that he’s the best.”

“No…” The weak voice hardly came out from his cold lips while the others were enjoying the defeated look of the petite saiyan.

“Dear prince, don’t forget that we live in your mind and know till the last place, till the last dirty secret. And Kakarot is omnipresent there, with all his diverse facets, in separate compartments, countless, as your different views of him. We can tell you about that place where you have him moaning your name beneath you in an endless lovemaking, or about that other where you keep an image of his smiling face, or that where you let free that impenitent romantic that lays within you, who pampers his Kakarot with caresses and sugary words, or do you prefer that place were both of you enjoy like children with innocent diversions, like training, eating, swimming, playing silly games? But there’s a little corner, more recondite and sordid, where you hide your forbidden, darker pleasures; where Kakarot is your victim, not your lover. A place reserved to humiliate him and hurt him; where you have him on his knees while his blood runs in rivers that cannot satiate your sinful thirst.”

“No, that’s a lie. I couldn’t get pleasure from Kakarot’s suffering, not anymore. And Kakarot would never leave me, he can forgive everything, he always does. His feelings for me will never change, I could bet my life on that.”
Vegeta felt tears crowding in his eyes struggling to burst out to cry all his despair and frustration away, but he could not allow himself to show such weakness before those bastards.

“And what about yours? Are your feelings as strong as his? Can you be sincere just for once in your life?” Both virtual Vegetas turned around and pointed a finger at a shadow standing tall and firm some steps ahead. As the dense fog around the figure started to vanish, Vegeta ran desperately towards him.

“Kakarot!” He screamed the name as though it would be his only salvation, his only anchor to sanity. Goku looked exactly like when they first met, so young, but with one of his warmth smiles enhancing the natural beauty of his features. Vegeta smiled back at him through trembling lips.

“Kakarot, I…” He reached out to touch Goku’s face, while trying to find the courage to confess his real feelings, to say those words he kept so deeply engraved in his heart. Words dancing, burning in his mouth, but never passing through his lips; dying too soon in their confinement, without savoring sweet liberty, without knowing the pleasure to flow freely through the ether and caress the ears of an awaiting lover, to dwell in his memory; and then, come out again in the wings of a new voice, back to his first home, to start the sweet game, that endless exchange, once and again.

But as the prince hesitated, the figure started to fade out, disappearing definitively when Vegeta latched onto him, trying to retain that adored figure just a little longer, but grabbing a hold of nothingness instead of his beloved.

“No, Kakarot!” Vegeta poured out his entire soul into that anguished scream. His ki burst into flames, releasing all his contained wrath. The whole place quaked and roared, and a mighty wind swept around carrying dust and stones in a dense cloud. But suddenly an infant’s lament reached Vegeta’s ears, and calm reigned again once the bewildered prince returned to his normal form.

“The little rat! How dare you to bring him here?” Majin asked, barely able to hide his rage behind his furrowed brow. Meanwhile Vegeta blinked in confusion as a child no older than seven, walked slowly towards them; tears streaming down his innocent face. He came to a halt right two steps from Vegeta, and stared at the prince sadly and almost reprovingly as he opened his tender lips to speak.

“How could you have forgotten?“ Vegeta frowned in confusion, so the kid let out again his crystalline voice, to enlighten him.

“Father told me one day I would find a companion, someone who never would abandon me, and I would never be alone again. Have you forgotten all those first years aboard Frieza’s ship, when you still kept that words inside your heart like a precious treasure? That was the only light of your life. You survived through your childhood and found strength to wake up every brand new day only because you knew someday you would find that especial someone. But at some point of the way you gave up your hopes and surrendered to desperation. You buried me so deep I almost disappeared. And so he was born; the first of your failures.” Chibi Vegeta said pointing a finger at green-armor Vegeta.

“But you didn’t forget completely, I’m here, a remnant of your innocence. You were, once, a generous and kind child, and those virtues have remained intact deep inside your soul despite all the evil around you. That proves you always had a pure heart, under the superficial grime; you never got completely contaminated. You wouldn’t have become supersaiyan otherwise. Kakarot knew it since the first time; he could see inside your soul, like a true mate would do. After all you’ve been through, all you have achieved, it would be a shame if you let them win now.

You cannot lose Kakarot, not now that you’re so close to reach the most perfect union two souls could aspire to. You have the power to destroy them forever. Do it for Kakarot, for your son. They believe in you.”

Vegeta felt his head spinning at wild speed, all this was surreal. He closed his eyes in the hope that once he opened them again, he would be at home cuddling on the couch with Kakarot, safe and away from this nightmare. But the crying of another child startled him again into the nonsense.

Chibi Vegeta was still there, but now imprisoned in a big cage and, at the other side, reaching out to touch him with his chubby arms, a spiky-haired toddler.

Vegeta leant over to hold baby Kakarot in his arms and started to cradle him; soon the baby’s disconsolate crying was replaced by faint sobs, alternated with some hiccups. He looked up at the prince’s face through teary but curious eyes and a smile of trust graced his tiny lips. Vegeta’s features softened, he smiled back and the baby gurgled contently. But after a while, baby Kakarot started to fidget and whine in Vegeta’s arms, turning his attention back to the captive boy. Vegeta edged towards the cage, so the two kids could be closer.

“Please, release me, let me keep him. Don‘t let me stand here all alone and miserable for the rest of eternity.” Chibi Vegeta begged in a mournful tone, while holding Kakarot’s hand to pacify him.

“How?” As the question left his mouth, Vegeta witnessed the sudden transformation of the boy into an adult, carbon copy of himself.

“Only you have the response. Just remember what your soul really yearn for: nor the vengeance, nor the power to rule the universe, nor the immortality…poor substitutes of a dream vanished into the wings of time. Break those last chains that still enslave you to your horrid past, destroy those barriers that keep you imprisoned: that envy and resentment concealed under the cloak of your pride. No absurd pride will give real meaning to your life, just your mate can make you happy. Make your choice, see the balance: which holds more value, Kakarot or your stubborn pride? Now is the time, prince, make those bastards disappear forever. Free yourself!”

Vegeta remained undecided for an instant until a strange light came upon him, it was the baby’s aura, and Vegeta sensed how the warmth flood through his entire body, instilling renewed confidence on him. The prince planted a tender kiss on baby Kakarot’s forehead and placed him on the floor, beside the cage. Then, with determination, he strode towards his wicked selves.

“From now on, you won’t hold any power over me, want to know why?” While he was speaking, he powered up, and his opponents, both with similar smug smirks on their faces fell into a defensive stance.

“Oh, please, enlighten us, pathetic excuse of a prince.” Their acrid insult was in vain, only eliciting from Vegeta a wild laughter.

“Because I’m not afraid to admit my feelings anymore.” Then he charged against the others, letting three words escape from his lips, like a shout of war: “I love Kakarot!”, like a spell which could make him unbeatable.

He aimed a mortal rain of ki blasts towards his rivals. They tried to block the attack but the shots never ceased, getting more and more powerful. With his tattered bodies bathed by the blood that oozed in rivulets from several injuries, they could barely stand upon their feet.

“Die, damn scum!” Vegeta threw a last, definitive blow, his final flash attack, and two screams of agony, heavenly music to Vegeta’s ears, resounded as the two figures twisted in the middle of the fire. Then a heavy silence fell as the last flames died, leaving a pile of ashes.

A sudden gust of air swept the ashes and the reek of scorching flesh away and sounds of chirping birds started to annoy Vegeta out of his moment of victory. He looked around and noticed that his surroundings had changed again. He was in the midst of a vast, green prairie; the monotony of the landscape only broken by the presence of a big, leafy tree at his right, and undulating hills glowing under the sunlight, in the distance.

The prince closed his eyes inhaling deeply the fragrance of dew-dampened grass and letting the fresh breeze cool off his sweaty body. Happy giggles made him turn his head around; Chibi Vegeta and baby Kakarot were sitting on the ground, playing like two happy kids, oblivious to the madness of the last instants. The elder saiyan grinned as Chibi Vegeta carrying the baby in his arms suddenly disappeared.

The smile that still lingered on Vegeta’s lips for a long while after the children’s departure, was replaced by an irritated scowl the very moment that a weak but bloodcurdling laughter could be heard in the distance.

“You may have admitted to yourself, but will you ever have the courage to confess your feelings to Kakarot?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time; but Vegeta knew where to shot, he aimed a blast at a quivering shadow and a piercing shriek reverberated over the hills. Then an inner voice, resembling Kakarot’s soothed all his doubts away ’’You will find the way, the moment…Kakarot knows, he will wait.”

Suddenly all his muscles became tense and his heart skipped a few beats as a desolate lament reached his ears. Vegeta darted toward the source of such heartbreaking anguish: a twisted figure upon the grass.

“Kakarot!” Goku was trembling from head to toes, fear written on his face. Vegeta knelt to embrace him.

“Shh, Kakarot; everything is alright.” The younger saiyan encircled his arms around Vegeta’s neck and clung to him as his only shelter and console. Vegeta kissed his forehead tenderly, running his fingers through Goku’s hair, and rocked him like a baby. Slowly, under Vegeta’s ministrations, Goku seemed to get calmer. When his ragged breath became steady, he raised his head to look Vegeta’s in the eyes.

“The words never came out.” Vegeta frowned, perplexed at Goku’s cryptic statement.

“Kakarot, what the hell…”

“His lips moved but no sound could be heard, and now I don’t know”

“Kakarot, stop it, please.” Vegeta started to plant a trail of feathery kisses on Goku’s face, in a desperate attempt to soothe both, his mate and himself; and the younger saiyan went limp in Vegeta’s arms,

Becoming more than evident that no coherent reasoning would come from the younger saiyan in his state of alteration, Vegeta pressed his forehead against Goku’s to read his thoughts through their link; but all he could get was a terrible pain, as if he had collided against a wall made of steel. Vegeta groaned in frustration; the younger saiyan had lifted an impenetrable barrier, blocking all his thoughts and memories. It was strange from Goku and Vegeta didn’t know if it was just an effect of the place, but he doubted his mate would have done it consciously.

But all his worries and any other consideration were totally forgotten the very same moment a lacerating pain in the middle of his spine made Vegeta’s body convulse in a violent spam. Then, everything around them went dark all of a sudden, and in a fraction of second when light came again, they were back in the pendulum room.

Arale still was blinking, seized by certain incredulity, wondering if all she had lived during the last moments had been nothing but a dream; when muffled grunts of pain came to her ears. She frowned with worry at the scene before her eyes; Vegeta was on his knees with his face and body contorted in agony, embracing a very pale and motionless Goku. Dende had ran to their aid and was kneeling before them.

“First…ugh…Kakarot” Vegeta managed to snap, biting his lips between words to stifle a yell, as he slapped Dende’s hands from above his head.

“Vegeta, I can sense that the baby is fine and Goku is only a little disorientated, but you are in so much pain.” The namekian muttered with a soft voice, trying to placate the prince’s rage but causing the contrary effect, and the elder saiyan forgot his suffering for an instant to throw a killing glare at Dende.

“Vegeta, let him aid you, I can take care of Goku.” Arale’s offer went completely ignored as the prince let his rage emerge in the form of a rude retort. “I said first Kakarot or I’ll blast your ugly face to ashes, bastard.” Then, unable to contain the pain any longer, he expelled a piercing, blood-curdling scream; only his steel will preventing him from passing out cold.

Dende obeyed, placing his hands over Goku and letting flow his reviving energy throughout his friend. Opening his eyes with some difficulty, Goku, still wrapped by Vegeta’s arms, sat up and looked around in uneasiness but with all his senses alert. He furrowed his brow with worry sensing Vegeta‘s agony, but remained speechless, still trying to process what had happened.

Meanwhile, Dende was using his powers on Vegeta, and soon the hisses and grunts of pain were replaced by a ramble of relief and soft purrs as a very pleasant sensation came over him.

“Your tail, Vegeta.” Goku was holding the appendage very gently with one hand rubbing his face with it, and with the other hand he was caressing all along the tail from its base. The purrs increased in intensity, the prince was lost in a turmoil of overwhelming emotions: joy, satisfaction, surprise, desire…but suddenly aware that he was purring and even mewling affectionately at his mate while being petted in public, he blushed intensely and, wriggling his tail free from Goku’s grasp, curled it tightly around his own waist. Goku fixed an inquiring gaze on the prince.

“But, how?” The younger saiyan had forgotten all his anxiety for a while in his astonishment. Vegeta was reluctant to give an explanation infront of everyone else, but Mr.Popo, who had remained apart in mute silence, took a step forward from out of the darkness and spoke leisurely.

“You have been given the chance to look into yourself and learn things about you that, either, you didn’t know or that you didn’t remember, but in any case, of extreme relevance for your lives; he had a revelation, or a cathartic experience which has resulted, among other things, in the regeneration of his tail.”

Though the others were following Mr.Popo’s explanation with amazed interest; Vegeta just huffed, directing his attention to his mate.

“Kakarot, can you tell me what happened in there?”

Goku’s breath rate increased as he relived the past events in his mind once again.

“I don’t know, Vegeta. I just had the feeling that I should remember something concerning our child, and that man wanted to warn me. But all is in a haze now. He’s in danger, Vegeta. ” He clung again against his mate, shivering, feeling a sudden, icy cold. The rest of the group just stood at a loss at Goku’s contagious distress.

Vegeta’s killing glare flung through the heavy silence to land right onto the circumspect Mr.Popo, who could only gulped, slightly taken aback.

“What the hell happened with Kakarot? You promised he wouldn’t suffer any harm. But look at him. He‘s confused and tormented. ”

“I told you it was impossible to know how the experience would affect him. Here in the lookout, things work in strange ways.” Was the only response the man could manage, as Vegeta growled. Then the prince let his eyes flicker from the corpulent man back to his mate.

“Kakarot, listen to me.” Goku’s head was resting on Vegeta’s chest, seemingly mute and deaf to everything but his musings. “Kakarot, please!” Vegeta begged more insistently, finally catching Goku‘s attention, who looked up through cloudy eyes.

“Kakarot, you’re just worried, like any other father. It’s normal, I’m worried too. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, thinking that I could lose you or the baby. That’s why you have all those hallucinations. But everything will be alright, and when you have our son in your arms, all will be over, and we will laugh of all our absurd fears.” Goku nodded, feeling more relieved upon seeing the reassuring expression on Vegeta’s face. But the shadow of a slight doubt had nested deep inside Vegeta’s heart; what if Kakarot hadn’t experienced hallucinations but doomed premonitions about their son? But he dismissed those gloomy thoughts immediately; it couldn’t be, he just was being paranoid. So he made an effort to let out a comforting smile.

“Goku, I’m sorry.” The soft but tense tone of Arale’s voice made the couple look at her as they stood upon their feet. “Maybe, I shouldn’t have told you so bluntly the risks you and the baby were exposed to. I think I’m to blame for causing you such stress.” Goku was about to reply, but Arale raised his hand to stop him.” No, let me finish, please. You don‘t have to worry, Goku; in that place I’ve learnt how to proceed for the labor to be totally safe for you and your baby.”

Arale’s words served to get Goku even calmer. And the rest of them sighed with relief, the mood brightened up with the good news.

“Now take me home, Vegeta, I’m tired and hungry.” Murmured the younger saiyan, leaning against the prince, who simply nodded while encircling Goku’s waist with his arm.

Then, the group headed toward the exit, led by Mr.Popo. Goku and Vegeta walked slowly at the rear end, several steps away, holding hands. Vegeta suddenly came to a halt, still a little uneasy about Goku’s condition.

“Kakarot, how are you really feeling?” He couldn’t help a little tremor in his voice while tightening his grip even more on Goku‘s hand.

“I’m fine, Vegeta. Please don’t worry. I just need some rest, today has been a very long day.“ Vegeta looked Goku in the eyes and breathed relieved to see that no trace of distress remained there. Then he curved his lips in a playful smirk.

“Hmm…How does a steamy, hot bath and a massage with slick oil sound?” Vegeta whispered hoarsely, his voice had lowered several tones reaching that deep, sexy baritone that Goku found so irresistible. The younger saiyan let out a moan as Vegeta curled his tail around Goku’s; then, the elder saiyan slapped and groped the delectable, firm butt of his mate. Vegeta’s smirk deepened even more when Goku, grabbing him by an arm, starting to walk hurriedly, his exhaustion suddenly forgotten.

TBC

AN: In the next chapter there will be a tournament, an awkward reencounter, some distress about Goku and the baby’s state of health, a confession, someone’s getting very angry and can cause problems …and hot saiyan sex, cause in the last chapters they hadn’t gotten any…Umm; I think I’ve revealed too much.

PLAYTIME 14

Mon, 06 Aug 2007 16:53:40 GMT

First of all, I have good news, this chapter is beta-ed, so from now on no more of my horrible grammatical errors. Many, many thanks to chibigoku who was so generous to offer to beta, I think she made a great job, but that is for you, all readers, to judge. This chapter is too long, even longer than the previous, but I hope it isn't boring. Just one thing: In this chapter appears Arale, that little oranged haired girl who was one of Goku's childhood friends in dragonball. I can't remember if Goku still had his tail when he met her, so I opted for he hadn't his tail that's why she got surprised in this chapter when she saw Goku's tail. Now, enjoy the chapter!

PLAYTIME

Chapter Fourteen

Vegeta roused from his sleep feeling the right half of his body crushed by a dead weight, once he opened his eyes he grinned, seeing Goku clinging onto him for dear life: The younger saiyan was partially lying atop of him using Vegeta‘s shoulder and arm as a pillow, his tail tightly curled around Vegeta’s thigh almost cutting off his blood circulation, his right arm equally tightly wrapped around the waist of the prince. It seemed that the cocoon of blankets they were buried under were not enough to keep him warm.

Vegeta did not mind the numbness of his body, or the cramps and the dull ache sweeping through his muscles as he inhaled the wonderful scent emanating from his sleeping companion and felt the sparkle in energy of his child’s ki, announcing his presence, greeting him as though, somehow, he had recognized his father.

Goku was profoundly asleep, so the older saiyan remained there in blissful silence enjoying the tight embrace. His old, heartless self could never had imagined that a little, simple pleasure like feeling the warm breath of his mate over his chest could make him feel so good, so alive. He would not let anybody, nothing, steal this from him, not again; he would die defending his family. An icy chill made him shudder as dreadful thoughts crossed his mind, he tried to shake them off pulling Goku closer against him, if possible, as if with that desperate act he could capture his mate’s soul and retained it forever by his side, protected and shielded from the rest of the world. Meanwhile he was chanting incessantly in his mind, as a desperate mantra: “mine, mine, mine…”

Vegeta sighed deeply, more at ease, when he sensed Goku slowly stirring. The younger male yawned and then, with his eyes still close, nuzzled his nose into Vegeta’s chest while letting out soft purrs of delight. The intensity of his purrs increased as he heard his companion purring back in response while running his fingers into his spiky hair. Goku moved his head, opening his eyes and started to lick Vegeta’s neck.

“Good morning to you too” Vegeta mouthed with amusement, smiling as the younger saiyan rose his head to look him in the eyes. The prince stayed transfixed for a moment at the breathtaking sight of Goku‘s beaming face, the beauty of his pure soul pouring out in warm cascades from his eyes. Vegeta unable to restrain his desire, switched positions, till he was on top of his mate, and brushed his lips against Goku‘s. He let his tongue flicker lightly over Goku‘s lips, teasingly. Then he slid it between Goku’s lips, licking across his teeth, first pleadingly, then demandingly till his lover granted access. The moist appendage once inside the sweet, hot cavity explored, caressed and tasted, encouraged by the sensual moans of his lover. One tongue slid over the other, engaged in an urgent, frantic exchange of saliva.

Finally, the couple broke apart, panting deeply. Goku, rolling onto his side, lay against Vegeta’s body, resting his head on the firm chest, wrapping an arm around the prince’s waist, while stroking Vegeta’s thigh with his tail.

.

“I feel so lazy… I could spend the whole day in bed.” Goku said with a sleepy voice , as he yawned.

“Tired?” The hint of amusement in Vegeta’s voice did not get lost to Goku, who lifted his head narrowing his eyes. Vegeta chuckled at the stubborn pout on Goku’s face.

“It’s your fault, you jerk.” Goku snapped, slightly annoyed.

“Really? It wasn’t me who spent the whole night screaming ’more oh more, take me again my prince’.” Vegeta smirked rather smugly, the mocking tone of his voice irritating even more the younger saiyan, who, giving out an angry look, grabbed Vegeta’s cock and pulled hard. The prince yelped in pain.

“Damnit, Kakarot that hurt!” Goku shrugged with indifference, and rolled onto his side, lying with his back to the prince. Vegeta sighed deeply, he should know better than to tease a pregnant saiyan. He moved to spoon the younger male, caressing his swollen belly and purring gently, in an attempt to placate Goku’s irritation.

“Come on, Kakarot. Don’t be like that.” He whispered softly, then added, “If you want, I will call the boys to cancel today’s scheduled training.”

.

Goku looked over his shoulder and could not suppress a smile at the desperate expression on Vegeta‘s face. He rolled back to face the prince again, shaking his head.

“No, they will be disappointed if you do it. Let’s stay here just a little longer.” He said softly, sinking his head in the crook of Vegeta’s neck.

“Vegeta, we still haven’t chosen a name for the baby.” Goku said all of a sudden after a long, but comfortable silence.

“Umm, do you have something in mind?” Vegeta asked languidly, while delicately caressing and stroking Goku’s flank.

“Not exactly, but I want to give our child a saiyan name. Tell me, was there some tradition to name the children on our home planet?”

“Kakarot, my knowledge about our people is vast but limited. I hadn’t enough time to learn about all our customs and culture. I only know that many families used to name the first born after his sire. The first king of Vegitasei, and after him, all his successors, were given the name of our planet. But it was forbidden that any other than the heir of the throne had that name. It was very common too, amongst our people, to name the newborns after a national hero, a famous warrior. After all you have achieved, if we were on our planet, there would be an entire generation of saiyans named Kakarot.” Vegeta said smirking.

“Would you be very disappointed if our child wouldn’t have your name?” Goku asked, anxiety could be traced in the tremor of his voice as he waited for the response of the prince.

“What’s wrong with my name?” Vegeta exclaimed in a partly offended and partly playful tone of voice.

“Nothing.” Goku replied, raising his head to look at Vegeta and laughing nervously, then he added, “But I would feel awkward and very uncomfortable calling my child by the same name I scream each time I'm…umm, cumming.” Goku trailed off, blushing furiously.

Vegeta started to laugh in hysterics, so uncontrollably that, soon tears were streaming down his face and his whole body was shaking from head to toes, as Goku blinked in bewilderment.

“You are definitively something else, Kakarot.” Vegeta mumbled, trying to compose himself. “Anyway, since there’s no kingdom to inherit, it doesn’t matter.” He added, fully recovered from his outburst as Goku leant again his head on Vegeta’s chest.

“You asked me about traditions, well, didn’t you know that all the saiyans are given plants names?”

“Really?” Goku asked idly; although he seemed to be more interested in the circular patterns he was tracing with his finger all over Vegeta‘s torso, he was listening attentively to the prince‘s words.

“My father knew a lot of curious things about our culture and folklore; he could spend hours talking about it. I preferred the legends about great battles and super saiyans, but some of his stories were rather interesting. In one occasion he explained to me the origins of this ancient custom to give people the names of plants. In fact, before our people won the war against the Tuffles, our world was called planet Plant. Our ancestors, the great apes known as Oozaru, lived out in the great jungles, which were rich in luxurious and savage vegetation.

They were a primitive and superstitious race. When they were not able to explain a natural phenomenon they believed it caused by supernatural forces. Hence they considered plants sacred and magical, because of their curative and healthy effects. Many of them were used as amulets and naming a newborn after the name of said amulets was considered to bestow good luck. When our race evolved into our actual, more sophisticated form; this custom was so deeply-rooted that it persisted, immovable, generation after generation.”

“So you’re telling me that my baby will have the name of a vegetable?”

“Says the man who named his first son after his favorite meal.” Vegeta replied, chuckling.

“But he chose it by himself.” Goku looked up at the prince puckering his lips in a childish pout.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Vegeta said flatly, with a expression of incredulity on his face.

“No, it’s true. When Gohan was born, Chichi’s father paid us a visit to see the baby. They started to argue about what would be the best name for my son. Each time they proposed a name, the baby started crying. I could only look at him in awe. It felt so odd but, at the same time, so good to be a dad. And he was so perfect, all pale and tender, as delicate as boiled rice. That’s why I exclaimed ’Gohan’ and he giggled happily. And that‘s how it was decided.”

“Figures, only you would think of food while looking at a baby. Anyway I think it would be better to decide it when we see the little one.” Goku nodded in agreement, grinning and curling his tail around Vegeta’s arm.

Vegeta suddenly furrowed his brow in preoccupation and Goku, sensing Vegeta’s distress, propped his elbow onto his pillow and leant his head on the heel of his hand to gaze upon Vegeta’s face.

“Kakarot,” He muttered in a tremulous tone of voice, looking seriously at Goku and caressing his face. “There’s something more important to think about. I’m worried about the labor; you will have to be cut open to extract the baby.” Goku closed his eyes and fidgeted nervously, wincing, as his breath increased in rate.

“Shh, my warrior, calm down.” Vegeta let his aura sparkle and radiate in powerful waves till it was enveloping Goku‘s body in a regenerating and consoling embrace. Then he tried to browse Goku’s mind through their weak bond; once their minds were connected he started to project sentiments of calm and serenity till he felt Goku less anxious.

Goku took a deep breath and opened his eyes, letting his gaze flutter to meet the prince’s onyx orbs.

“I…” Goku’s ability to speak faltered for a while and no other sound escaped from his parted lips than that of his agitated breath. Vegeta rubbed his back reassuringly to help the younger saiyan to regain his courage.

“I’ve been trying to avoid the subject ‘cause I’m terrified. I know I have been through worst but this is so unusual and overwhelming, and it’s my child’s life which can peril, not only mine.” He snuggled against Vegeta looking for that comfortable sensation that was his mate’s warmth.

“Kakarot, we must be prepared. We will have to go to a hospital, it’s the only way it can be done, but I don’t trust the earthlings. I don’t know if they would take us seriously, and even though they wouldn’t freak out and would agree to help us, they have no knowledge about our physiology. I‘m not sure if they would be capable to do it without risking your life. I’m scared too, I… I don’t want to lose you.” He clenched his eyes shut and moved to pour a rain of feathery kisses all over Goku’s round abdomen, then he softly leant his head there to feel the already strong ki of his unborn child, while Goku soothingly ran his fingers through Vegeta’s hair.

“If something goes wrong we… we can count on Dende. And we have the senzu beans…“ He trailed off, trying to convince himself more than his mate. Then, an idea struck him like lighting, reducing his dark thoughts to mere ashes blowing in the wind, far, far away.

“Vegeta, everything will be alright.” A brightened up Goku said. “I know who can help us. My friend, Arale.” Vegeta tilted his head to see his mate now smiling with renewed spirit.

“You don’t know her…She was one of my childhood friends, I haven’t seen her for ages…more exactly ten years ago, before the battle with Cell. I somehow knew that I wouldn’t survive so I spent my last days visiting old friends; I wanted to see them one last time. That’s when I knew that Arale had become a doctor. I remember I told her it didn’t surprise me ‘cause she was a good person who enjoyed helping other people… and now I’m babbling too much.” He said grinning at the perplexed look on Vegeta’s face.

“We can go visit her this afternoon. She knows I’m not a conventional human and I really trust her. We won’t have any problems with her.” A tiny smile appeared on Vegeta’s lips, Goku’s enthusiasm was so contagious that he forgot all his worries for the time being.

.

Later that morning, Vegeta and the two younger demi-saiyans, as it had become habitual, were sparring outside not far from the house, while Goku watched their evolutions with interest, sprawled on a blanket with his hands beneath his head. He was wearing three layers of clothes to keep his body warm as well as a thick coat and a scarf. Even Gohan was there, just because Videl was spending the weekend at some relative‘s home. He was sat near his father, both chatting animatedly while paying close attention to the fighters above their heads.

A routine had been established; Vegeta trained first with the two children together for two hours, and then Goten and Trunks transformed into their fusion so Vegeta could have a more adequate adversary, because the purpose of their intensive training was not only to prepare the children, but himself too. Sometimes Gohan joined them when he was not occupied training or hanging out with Videl.

He still was holding a grudge, one more in his long list, against Vegeta because Gohan had proposed to take Videl to spar with them and Vegeta had categorically refused. The prince was right in his assertion that the weak girl, (weak to his standards), would only slow down their progress, being obliged to hold back. Not to mention that Gohan couldn’t concentrate entirely in the fight, distracted by the supposed charms of the feisty girl.

But who the hell was Vegeta, Gohan thought to himself, to come with such lame excuse when the prince himself got distracted from the fight most of the time, paying more attention to his father, acting like a lovesick adolescent. And, what was the matter anyway? Vegeta would win even without training. At this stage, he had no rival; Gohan’s power level was now far below the prince’s, since he had lost part of his battle-lust. Suddenly, Gohan’s thoughts were interrupted by the potent voice of his father.

“Gotenks, cover your side.” Gotenks smugly shrugged, ignoring Goku’s advice.

“Ha, as if the old man could even get close enough to touch me.” He replied, with his habitual cockiness. Immediately a hard punch sent him plummeting towards the ground onto his back as Vegeta smirked, his attitude as arrogant as the fusion’s. Gohan slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand and Goku sighed, shaking his head.

“Gotenks will have to learn not to underestimate his opponents. It will be his downfall in battle if he doesn’t.” Goku commented in slight disappointment.

“Dad, do you really think that Vegeta is capable to teach him that?” Goku stared at Gohan, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. He was finding more and more difficult to tolerate any criticism against his mate, not even from his sons. The demi-saiyan smiled nervously.

“Geez dad, I don‘t want to make you upset, but you know I‘m right. Vegeta might be a great warrior, but you know better than anyone how many times he had been defeated because of his inflated ego and his overconfidence.”

“I don’t want to discuss that with you.” Goku replied in a stubborn tone, turning his nose up and pouting like an angry child. Gohan rolled his eyes at his father‘s bizarre antics.

Meanwhile, Gotenks stood upon his feet and, dusting himself off, looked up at Vegeta angrily.

“Haven’t you had enough brat” The prince remarked, conceit present in his voice, as the fusion flew up charging towards the boastful prince, only to find a hard fist colliding violently against his face

“Here they go again… stubborn kid.” Gohan mumbled

“Why don’t you go help Gotenks, he had lost most of his energy with his useless and stupid attacks, he won’t resist much more.” Goku suggested, while looking at his son out of the corner of his eye.

Gohan grumbled, but obeyed. He was not elated at the prospect to have to fight Vegeta; the cockiness of the prince exasperated him to no end.

“Good morning Piccolo!” Gohan greeted to his former master as he stood up. Goku, surprised, tilted his head to look at the newcomer, he still felt terribly uneasy not being able to sense ki.

Piccolo nodded to the boy before Gohan floated towards the fighting pair.

“Hi Piccolo!” Goku greeted him in his usual chirping tone, as the namekian gave a simple nod as a salute.

Then Piccolo sat, floating, beside Goku and a deep, loud growl resounded from above. Both looked up at Vegeta, who was glaring at Piccolo very dangerously. This distraction cost him to be beaten hard in the stomach by a delighted Gotenks. Vegeta yelled, bending forward, at the stinging pain. But he rapidly launched a furious attack on the insolent kid, punching him repeatedly on his stomach and face, enraged at being caught off guard; while blocking with success all the blows Gohan was throwing him.

“Don’t mind him.” Goku said to a slightly bewildered Piccolo. “Lately he’s being an ass; he always behaves that way whenever someone gets too close to me. You should have seen him the day we went shopping for the baby. He was obsessed with the idea that everybody was looking hungrily at my ass. Can you believe it? I never been one to get easily embarrassed, but when he started to glare and growl at anybody who passed by our side, I just wished the earth would swallow me up.”

“I can’t understand why he’s so jealous, he’s got no motive.” Piccolo replied.

“Oh, it’s one of those stupid things I still don’t understand about saiyan instincts and dominance. But I think that he’s not really jealous because someone could feel attracted to me but, just felt hurt because he thinks he’s not the only one I trust with all my life. I’d wish he wouldn’t be so emotionally insecure.”

Goku realized that he was talking too much about his intimacy and Piccolo may be uncomfortable, so he tried to change of subject.

“I apologize for my behavior last time you came to see us, we shouldn’t have mocked you.”

“Forget it.” Piccolo replied, shrugging, then added, “I see that Vegeta is being stricter than usual with the boys.”

“Yeah, he’s been training really hard during the last month because he wants to enter the tournament.”

“Really? I thought he despised it… I mean, during the seven years you were dead he refused to participate in any tournament saying he would never lower himself to fight with such unworthy and weak creatures. He entered the last one only to have the chance to fight you. So why is he so interested now?”

“That’s another of those I‘m-the-dominant-one things. He feels obliged to provide for his family. It’s been bothering him since I mentioned something about money. At that moment I hadn’t the slightest clue why he was so worried all of a sudden, but when he told me he was going to enter the tournament I knew the reason.”

“I didn’t know you had money problems.” Piccolo commented, folding his arms and raising a speculative eyebrow.

“No, not really. Though the baby will be an extra, I have saved enough money to maintain us for some years but, Vegeta needs to feel that he’s in charge. And I can’t blame him; after all he’s been through in the past I understand that necessity to prove to me and to himself that he is a worthy mate.”

Meanwhile, Gotenks had split after receiving a hard kick on the right shoulder. The two exhausted boys, both rubbing their sore shoulders; followed by Gohan who was all battered too, with purple bruises on his face and neck and a thin trail of blood running from the corner of his mouth down to his chin; went into the house to clean and refresh their bodies and to get something to eat.

Meanwhile Vegeta, snorting, walked towards the younger saiyan and sending an unfriendly gaze at Piccolo, pushed him to one side to seat himself between Goku and the namekian. When Goku curled his tail around Vegeta’s arm the prince smirked in deep satisfaction, looking at the namekian with an expression that claimed ‘I’m the boss, here’. Piccolo just chuckled, finding terribly amusing Vegeta‘s attitude.

“I’ve been told that you’re going to enter the tournament. Maybe I will do it too. It would be a pleasure to kick your royal ass.” Piccolo couldn’t resist provoking the grumpy prince. Vegeta looked venomously at the insolent namekian and opened his mouth but before any harsh remark could escape from his lips Goku surprised the other two males by speaking first.

“As if that could happen.” The tone of Goku’s voice was so serious and confident, the expression of his face so smug and the comment so unexpected that Vegeta started to laugh, suddenly forgetting his tantrum, while Piccolo stared in disbelief at the pregnant saiyan, not very sure if that weird demeanor was caused by his hormones or by spending too much time around Vegeta.

“I think I’m going now.” Came the barely audible response of the partially shocked namekian.

“Ok, bye!” Goku chirped happily, confusing his friend even more, while Vegeta was still laughing his head off.

“You know, Kakarot, if you continue creeping him out like that he won’t come to visit you anymore.” Vegeta said as he stood up and reached out to pull Goku up.

After lunch time, the couple flew to meet Arale. When they arrived at her house and rang the doorbell, a tiny woman in her sixties opened the door. After her initial shock, seeing Goku after so many years and in his state, Arale’s mother invited them in for tea.

Goku asked for Arale, and when the woman explained that her daughter was at the clinic she currently worked in, the younger saiyan, who froze for a second as his face went blue, accepted her invitation. The woman and Goku conversed for almost two hours, as an annoyed but patient Vegeta remained in silence. He knew that Goku was trying to delay the dreaded visit to the hospital for as long as possible.

Noticing that Vegeta’s nervousness was increasing dangerously and afraid that the prince would have an outburst, Goku finally rose from his seat and, after asking the address of the clinic and giving his thanks to the kind woman for her hospitality, headed outside followed closely by the prince.

When they reached their destination Goku dismounted from Kintoun, all pale and shaky. Vegeta held Goku’s hand in his to instill some courage into his distraught mate as they approached the door. Once they found Arale’s office they were told by a nurse to wait in a nearby room.

Fortunately, for Goku’s increasing anxiety, there was only a woman awaiting there. The woman stared openmouthed and with her eyes bugged out of her sockets at a furry appendage wagging nervously from side to side, behind the inflated man sat in front of her. The woman stood up and dashed out, her face contorted in a grimace of horror as she ran away.

Vegeta chuckled but he immediately frowned the moment he looked at his flustered mate. Goku was tightly clutching the edges of his chair, with his gaze fixed on the floor, and a blank expression on his face, as thick beads of sweat dripped from his brow and the pace of his breath became more and more labored. Vegeta, sighing, grabbed Goku’s tail and gently petted it.

“Kakarot, try to relax, I promise there will be no needles.” He mouthed in a soft whisper. Goku squeaked out at hearing the word ‘needle’, but taking a deep breath, looked at Vegeta and nodded, trusting his words.

After some minutes the same nurse came into the room to announce they could see the doctor.

“Goku! Oh, my dear!” An orange-haired woman shouted, joy and surprise fluttering in her voice, as she saw the younger saiyan appearing through the door.

Goku smiled, a little shocked. He barely recognized the mature woman before him. After ten years she looked so old, time had left its ominous mark on her nice features. The woman was more shocked than him and she gawked with widened eyes at Goku’s round abdomen.

“Wow, it seems that finally your voracious appetite has taken it tolls on you. Have you come because you want to lose weight?” She asked an embarrassed Goku, who flushed bright red and blinked several times, as Vegeta grunted, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes in irritation.

The woman glanced curiously at the smaller male, not having noticed his presence while in her excitement to see her old friend, though he had been beside Goku the whole time.

“I’m not fat, I’m pregnant.” Goku said bluntly, then laughed nervously.

“What? But that’s impossible?… How?…Oh, my God!” She mumbled in shock and disbelief. But seeing the serious look on Goku’s face and the poisonous glare the other man was throwing to her, she let her body collapsed on a chair and breathed deeply.

“Arale, last time we met I told you that I came from another planet, that I belonged to a race of people called the saiyans. Well, it seems that this is a natural thing between my people.”

She nodded as she tried to regain her composure. Once calmed enough, she stood up and looked again at the smaller man.

“So you must be the father.” She uttered a little taken aback by his unfriendly and cold attitude.

Vegeta snorted out his disdain for the woman, but seeing Goku fidgeting uncomfortably, upset at Vegeta’s behavior, the prince just sighed allowing Goku to respond to the question.

“He’s Vegeta, my…“ Goku paused for a moment as he pondered which word he should use, not wanting to embarrass Vegeta. But the prince solved his dilemma without hesitation, “Kakarot’s mate.” The woman blinked in slight confusion.

“Kakarot?”

“That’s my saiyan name.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Enough chat. “ Vegeta was starting to lose his patience, but before he could say something offensive, Arale spoke first.

“Then I suppose that you will need my help during the delivery.” She smiled warmly.

Both men nodded, then sat down as Arale motioned them to do so.

“Obviously, I know nothing about your species, so I will need some information about your state Goku.” Goku’s pleading eyes flickered to meet Vegeta’s, searching for his help.

“Ask, woman, and I’ll tell you what you need to know.” Vegeta ordered as the woman picked a pen from her desk and started to write something in her notebook.

.

“How advanced is his pregnancy and when approximately is he expected to go into labor?” She asked, her voice and attitude suddenly turned from friendly to competent and professional, which seemed to satisfy the exigent prince.

“He’s in his fifth month. Usually, saiyan pregnancy lasts seven months, but Kakarot is a special case. The development of the baby depends on the energy supplied by the mother, and Kakarot’s are exceptionally high, so it could be any moment. You must know that surgery will be required to deliver the baby.” The woman lifted her head from the paper, furrowing her brow in preoccupation. Meanwhile, Goku who had been a little unnerved as the others talked about him as though he wasn’t present, started to sweat profusely, seeing worry reflected in the faces that now were looking intently at him.

Arale tried to relieve the tension smiling with confidence at his friend.

“Goku, I need to run some tests on you,” When she saw him flinch in slight panic, she added in a reassuring tone, “Don’t worry, I’ll only check your vitals and take some urine samples. Since I have nothing to compare the results to know if everything’s Ok, your, um… ‘mate’ will have to undergo the same tests as you.” Goku, visibly more tranquil when he knew needles won’t be involved, grinned impishly while looking at Vegeta who was huffing and frowning like a cranky child. Great, now he was going to be a laboratory rat.

Arale asked the two men to take off their clothes, except the boxers. Goku immediately obeyed and started to unbutton his jacket

“Kakarot, stop it now!” Vegeta ordered, his face glowing bright red, as Goku, stopping what he was doing, looked at him in confusion.

“Why the hell must we be naked?” The prince asked, enraged and embarrassed, with his arms stubbornly folded over his chest.

Arale rolled her eyes, startled and, at the same time, a little amused at the outburst of the grumpy man.

“It’s the normal procedure.” She flatly blurted out.

“Can we have, at least, some privacy?” Vegeta asked more composed, but a light tone of suspicious could be detected in his voice.

“Of course, you can go there.” She replied pointing to a contiguous cabinet. “Inside there are some gowns, put one on when you’re undressed and call me when you‘re done.”

Once they were ready, Arale walked into the room and handing one little bottle to each men, instructed them to fill the recipients with their urine in the lavatory that was across the room.

Once inside, the two saiyans stared blankly at the bottles.

“But…I can‘t do it.” Goku murmured, looking at the prince with wide eyes, like a helpless child.

“Me neither.” Vegeta groaned, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand. “This is the most embarrassing situation I’ve ever been through.”

“And how can that be? Have you never peed before?” Goku asked in a mocking tone, slightly chuckling as Vegeta sent him a death-glare.

“Shut up, Kakarot. You know what I mean, don’t be a smartass.” Goku frowned with an expression of anger and frustration on his face and he suddenly exploded, unable to contain anymore of the tension accumulated during the last hours.

“Shut up you, Mister-I-have-an-attitude. I’m the one who’s been suffering with the pregnancy and who will have to be cut open! I’m tired, my back and feet are sore; I’m so weak that a simple blow could knock me unconscious. I can hardly move my heavy and ugly body, the lightest movement drains the little energy I have left in me. But since we left home you’re being a jerk and won’t stop complaining ‘cause someone asked you to pee! If I had some strength I would beat the crap out of your stupid face right now!” Goku ceased his rant, panting heavily, as the prince gawked in shock. Then Goku closed his eyes, wincing, and rubbed his temples feeling a sudden, sharp headache.

His legs were shaking, and Vegeta stepped closer to support him as the younger saiyan almost collapsed to his knees.

“Damn, Kakarot, I’m sorry. But you know I can’t stand those earthlings for so long, they grate my nerves. I just wish to be at home, just you and me.”

“Umm…there was a time when you couldn’t stand my presence either, or so you used to claim.” Goku replied, apparently more relaxed.

“Want to know a secret?” Vegeta’s voice now was soft and low, flitting all over Goku‘s ear making it all tingle. The younger saiyan nodded giving out a small moan.

“It wasn’t true. Well, maybe only for a short time at the beginning, cause every time I saw you I felt ashamed of myself. You were nothing but a reminder of my weakness, but soon I came to terms with the fact that you would always be the best. But I was too proud and stubborn to admit that I didn‘t despise you.”

Then he added even more gently, a mere whisper like a soft breeze caressing Goku’s earlobe, “I’m sorry I can’t be the mate you deserve.”

“Shhh,” Goku placed two fingers on the prince’s lips, shaking his head, “don’t say that, you’re doing fine…” Vegeta curved his lips in a tiny smile and Goku added smiling back at him, ”…most of the time.” Both men chuckled, their ebony orbs sharing a gaze of playfulness and complicity.

“Well, Kakarot, if that woman wants so badly my royal pee, let’s fill the damned blasted bottles from hell.” Vegeta said smirking and Goku rolled his eyes.

“Royal pee? Oh, my…now your bodily fluids are royalty too? I knew your ego was excessive but not to this extent. This is ridiculous.” Goku remarked, partly in a teasing mood and partly flabbergasted

“Ridiculous? I thought you had become very fond of certain fluids of mine; addicted, would be a more accurate term.” Goku blushed scarlet bright, as he stepped back almost stumbling.

“OK, I’M GONNA PEE NOW!” He shouted as Vegeta let out a mischievous smile. It was very amusing and at the same time rather appealing, to see Goku acting so shy when their conversations with one another acquired sexual undertones, while in the intimacy of their intercourses he was so uninhibited and passionate.

Once they resumed the assigned task and walked back into the cabinet, a nurse took the urine samples and labeled them, then she left the room and Arale handed Goku a big glass of water.

“Goku I‘m going to do an ultrasound so you can see your baby…” She couldn‘t finish the sentence as her eyes doubled twice their size when Goku, uncurling his furry appendage from his waist, started to sway it happily from side to side.

“Really?” He asked overly excited, laughing with joy.

“Holy…that’s a …” She babbled like a child. Goku tilted his head perplexed at his friend’s reaction, curling back again the tail around his waist, under the gown.

“Yes, that’s a tail, woman.” Vegeta remarked cuttingly, after sighing in slight annoyance. A nervous, but soft laughter erupted from her lips as she snapped out of her stupor. Then she coughed to clear her voice to speak again.

“As I was saying, the ultrasound will let us see the development of the creature. But to obtain a clear image you need to have your bladder full. So you must drink all that water.” She said pointing at a huge jar, placed on a tray, containing at least two litters of liquid. Goku gulped, he wasn’t even thirsty, but he obeyed, and started to drink from the glass he was grabbing, after sitting down on an examination table settled in the center of the room. Vegeta remained in silence, looking attentively and seriously at him, ignoring anything and anyone else.

“Umm…may I ask you something?” Arale asked weakly, almost frightened, trying to catch the attention of the elder saiyan. Vegeta slowly turned his face to look at the woman. She took that gesture as an affirmative response.

“There’s something I cannot understand. Why does he need surgery? It doesn’t make any sense. I mean, if male pregnancy is something common between your people, you should be physically equipped not only to gestate but to expel the child in a natural way, too.”

Vegeta sighed uncomfortably, disliking the fact to reveal so much information about his people to a stranger but, though reluctantly, he answered the question; because Goku had raised his eyes while still drinking, giving a curious and eager look at the prince.

“Originally, the birthing males conceived naturally. They had a little slit on his lower abdomen, barely visible; it was just a thin line over the skin, but during the pregnancy, that slit expanded and deepened, so the child could came from out there. As far as I know, the labor was similar to that of a female from your species: The contractions, the waters break, the pushing to release the child…But that changed after the ‘great war’ for the conquering of the planet.” Vegeta paused for a while, but seeing the interest of Goku, he continued his narration.

“Two different races coexisted on our home planet. We were stronger and more violent, while the other one relied on their superior technology. They tried to exterminate our people releasing some supposedly lethal chemical agents into the air, which were completely innocuous for their species. But fortunately we are immune to almost any kind of agent; whether it be biological, chemical, or even radioactive; our system is able to eliminate almost anything. But we didn’t end up totally unharmed. Those bastards were really smart and the effects of those substances became patent on the next generations: the children showed evidences of genetic mutations, appearing diseases never seen before between our people. Some of them were very serious, causing immediate deaths of the newly born, but very infrequent and with a very low prevalence. But soon, a high incidence in a specific mutation was detected: many birthing males were lacking the labor slit and couldn’t conceive without surgery. That prevailed generation after generation, till the point that natural conceptions were very rare. When I knew Kakarot was pregnant I pleaded for him to have that birthing channel. On our planet that wasn’t a great problem, a c-section was a very common practice, with zero mortality. But here…” Vegeta trailed off, looking with concern at Goku, who was holding his breath, all the color drained from his face as thick drops of sweat ran down his brow.

Meanwhile Arale, sighing, stepped towards Goku and started the exam. She grabbed his wrist to check for his pulse. Then, she took his blood pressure.

“Goku, I need you to calm down cause your pulse is too accelerated and your blood pressure is too high. Meanwhile I‘ll check Vegeta‘s to use them as reference.” Goku nodded taking deep breaths, as she proceeded to examine the prince.

“Your results are slightly higher to human standards but considerably lower than Goku’s. Are you nervous too or is that normal?”

“Woman, I can keep my vitals constant with enough concentration, everything is as it should.”

Arale took Goku’s vitals again in hopes that the younger saiyan was less nervous, but the results showed no variation.

“Well, then Goku, though usually during pregnancy it’s normal for a slight alteration in some of the vital signs, yours are too high and that worries me a little. It might be just your anxiety, but I would like to make sure that it’s nothing serious.”

“What do you mean?” Vegeta asked, all hints of harshness or anger had vanished from his voice, remaining just a sincere and profound preoccupation.

“The child might be pressing on his blood vessels and that could entail some risks for Goku‘s health and make even more dangerous the conception; he would be needing special cares and medication. Or it might be caused by any anomaly in his heart.” Vegeta frowned, suddenly remembering something.

“Ten years ago he almost died because of a heart disease. Could it have left some sort of defect?”

“Well, it’s possible, but I don’t want you to panic. We’ll go step by step. First I will do an electrocardiogram. But I need him totally relaxed. I will leave you alone for some minutes. After all these years treating patients, I think I’m qualified enough to say that there’s nobody more capacitated to soothe one’s nerves than their partner.”

“Or to grate one’s nerves, both could apply.” Goku muttered, grinning, as Arale laughed with gusto.

“I should say that, after all it’s me who’s living with a moody saiyan.” Vegeta replied, with a playful smirk, once Arale left the room.

“Ha, I’ve been moody for just some months, but you’ve been having mood swings since I first met you.” Both men roared in laughter relieving some of the built-up stress.

There had been an emergency and Arale’s presence had been required so she couldn’t return till thirty minutes later. When she entered the room, the two saiyans were dozing off on the table. She smiled and sighed a little envious to see the couple so tenderly embraced, it seemed that the prince had made a great job relaxing the younger man.

Her first impression after meeting Vegeta had been to think Goku a fool for getting involved with someone apparently so cold and insensitive but, it was obvious that under his tough appearance and despite his atrocious manners the surly saiyan was a softie with his companion and his preoccupation for Goku was genuine.

Vegeta, sensing the presence of the woman, immediately sat up, a little flushed, and shook Goku gently to wake him up. The younger saiyan slowly opened his eyes and blinked for some seconds till his mind completely registered where he was.

“Goku, I need you to get off the table.” Arale said smiling; then she added, looking at Vegeta, “Take off the gown and lie down back, I‘m going to prepare you for the ECG.” Both men did as instructed, while the woman, grabbing some items from a shelf, walked towards the table and proceeded to clean the skin on Vegeta’s chest, arms and legs with sterile lint impregnated with alcohol; then she affixed the electrodes on the clean skin, as Goku sat on a chair beside the table, observing with curiosity and interest in all the process. Vegeta tilted his head to look at the younger man when he heard the giggle that escaped from Goku’s mouth.

“You look funny with all that wires and disks attached to your body.” Goku explained and grinned as Vegeta shook his head, sighing. How his silly, beautiful mate could be so mature and insightful some times while others he just acted like a naïve and clueless child was something Vegeta would never completely be able to understand.

“Goku, don’t distract him, he must remain immobile.” Then she started the contraption, ordering the prince from time to time to hold his breath for some seconds. When the procedure ended, Arale grabbed the graphic paper with the results and studied it meticulously.

“If it’s true that you can control your body vitals, then I must assume that the rate reflected here is the norm for your species.” The prince nodded as he sat up and started to detach the patches from his body.

“Well, the rhythm is perfectly fine, as it should be, consistent and even. And the rest of the information I will consider it normal too. Goku, now it’s your turn.”

After the same process was applied on the younger saiyan, Arale looked at the two expectant men, smiling with satisfaction.

“Both graphics are identical, that means that there‘s nothing to worry about, Goku. You seem to be perfectly healthy.” Vegeta breathed deeply as the anxiety that had been taking a tight grip on him suddenly flew away. Without noticing, he had been holding Goku’s hand in his with such force that the younger saiyan hissed in pain.

“Sorry, Kakarot.” He mouthed, looking apologetic at Goku. The taller male shrugged as the grimace on his face was replaced by a tiny smile.

“Now, to the ultrasound. The machine is in another room, but before we go, Vegeta, you can put your clothes on” Arale said while walking out of the room and into her office to wait for the elder saiyan to change clothes.

Before getting dressed, Vegeta with a serious expression on his face slid his hand over Goku’s cheek in a tender caress. Then placing the hand on the back of Goku’s neck, pulled Goku to him and captured his lips in a tender kiss, pleasantly surprising the younger saiyan, who wrapping his arms around Vegeta’s waist, returned the kiss enthusiastically. After some moments of tongue wrestling, Vegeta broke apart to flicker his moist appendage over Goku’s neck in a wet caress. Pressing his lips against a sensitive spot below Goku’s ear he started to suck, eliciting a moan of pure bliss from his lover. The moan deepened and grew in intensity, turning into a roar, as Vegeta’s teeth gently nipped the delicate skin as his lips suctioned more and more frantically.

“Shh, the woman is in the other room.” Vegeta shushed him covering Goku’s mouth with one hand while smirking in amuse. The younger saiyan, blushing, gasped for air once the prince removed his hand.

“You shouldn’t be so scared, Vegeta, I know everything is going to be alright.” Goku murmured quietly, soothingly, locking eyes with the prince. Though Vegeta’s tender gesture had been caused by the relief he felt knowing that there wasn’t going to be any complication or risk, Goku had felt fear and preoccupation flowing from his mate in waves, so powerful and strong that almost physically punched him. It was heartbreaking seeing his prince in such a state; he liked the strong and confident Vegeta, not this desperate and anguished shadow that had taken the place of his mighty prince.

“Kakarot, I would like to be as optimistic as you are, but life has taught me to expect always the worst. It’s true, I’m scared. I’m scared to be happy for always it’s the same. Every time I’ve had the rare chance to savor the sweet taste of happiness, the universe conspires against me to steal what I held dear, leaving me miserable, only counting on my pride and wrath to recompose the shattered pieces. And this time I have so much to lose…Kakarot, I... I…” Vegeta struggled to let out words that he had wanted to say to his younger companion for quite a long time, but something in the back of his mind tugged at him and made him hesitate. He still wasn’t ready.

Not that he doubted of his feelings for Goku, but he dreaded to see Kakarot disappear before his eyes, vanishing like morning mist as a cold laughter coming from the very core of hell mocked him, if he dare to say those words out loud. He sighed with profound sadness, loathing himself for being such a coward and, sinking his head in Goku’s chest, he lovingly traced with the palm of his hand the curve of Goku’s swollen belly, hoping that his mate would understand. That he would feel all those unspoken emotions the gentle saiyan had awakened in his soul.

Some instants passed as both men remained clinging onto one another, concentrated on the scent and warmth of the other, to conjure all their fears away; when an insistent knock on the door sent them back into reality.

“Is everything OK?” Arale asked from outside the room.

“Just a minute” Goku replied as Vegeta swiftly put his clothes on. Vegeta sighed, he was being a pathetic idiot. For crying out loud, he was going to see his son for the first time. It was a time for rejoicing, not for grief and mourning. He held tightly his mate’s hand with valor and determination, a sweet smile gracing his lips, making Goku squeak in joy at this comforting attitude of his prince.

AN: I had to cut it somewhere, the chapter was going to be even longer, but finally I decided that they get to see their child in the next chapter. And I'm very excited with the next chapter, I think it's going to be very interesting, Vegeta will regrow his tail, but it will be different from other fics. In the stories in which they regrow their tails it's by making a wish with the dragonballs or after having wild sex. The way I've planned it is completely different and I think it would be surprising. I'll try to update sooner.So see you in the next chapter! (Please tell me what you think of this one) TBC

PLAYTIME 13

Mon, 06 Aug 2007 14:11:05 GMT

DISCLAIMER: I don't own DB/Z/GT

PLAYTIME

Chapter 13

Shighing, Goku took a last look at his grandfather’s house before getting on his flying cloud.

Vegeta had witnessed with impotence and preoccupation the emotional crisis Goku had been suffering, tormented with the idea to be despised by his friends. Vegeta’s great fear was that this could send the younger saiyan spiraling right down into a deep depression.

Vegeta firmly believed that the best way to solve a problem was to face it no matter what, so he had suggested Goku to speak with his friends to know what they really felt about his current situation. But the younger saiyan had refused, insisting on going away, instead. So the prince had finally accepted, though reluctantly, and they had spent the last three weeks at old Gohan’s house.

And the result had been, unexpectedly, spectacular. The happy memories from his childhood evoked by this place, so dear to Goku, and the memorable moments spent there with Vegeta during the last days, being pampered to no end by the prince, had been a balm to soothe his shattered, saddened soul.

Now, with a renewed spirit, the only thing Goku wanted was to see his sons again.

“Ready to go back home?” Vegeta asked softly as Goku, with his back to the prince, said his last silent goodbye to the modest cabin.

Goku turned to look at Vegeta and nodded, smiling brightly.

“Off we go.” Goku shouted happily as he followed closely behind Vegeta, who had blasted off into the sky to fly in the direction he had located Gohan’s ki.

They found the demi-saiyan in a prairie not far from Goku’s house, he was sparring with Videl. Vegeta landed gracefully nearby a great tree and, leaning against the trunk with his arms folded, watched amused the unequal combat. Goku remained sat Indian style on his cloud, floating idly right beside Vegeta. Gohan and Videl were exchanging a serie of punchs. The demi-saiyan was evidently holding back, all his energies intact, as Videl was showing evident signs of tiredness. Soon, the girl, unable to continue, collapsed to her knees panting heavily.

“Hi!” Goku chirped as his son, who had sensed immediately the presence of the two saiyans, strode forward till he was a few steps away from the couple, with a huge grin adorning his features.

“Dad!” Gohan exclaimed, overjoyed at seeing his father again. “You’re back. I’ve missed you so much, and Goten too.”

“Vegeta.” Gohan said dryly looking at the prince to acknowledge his presence, now with a serious expression on his young face. Vegeta, as serious as the boy, just nodded in reply.
Gohan turned his attention back to his father, the smile returning to his lips.

Meanwhile Videl had recovered her breath and, standing up with some difficulty because of her sore muscles, she walked towards the others and greeted the newcomers politely.

“Dad, you look great. It seems that this little break it’s what you needed.” Gohan exclaimed with enthusiasm seeing the healthy and cheerful appearance of his father. Videl nodded in agreement.

“Yes, he even looks more handsome.” She said frankly, looking up and down at Goku.

Gohan glanced at the girl, twitching and Vegeta growled menacingly clenching his fists with increasing rage, both of them jealous at her sudden interest on Goku. Meanwhile the taller saiyan was blushing mostly due to the absurd tantrum of the two overly testosterone-fueled males.

When Videl noticed the effects provoked by his unfortunate comment on the three men, she flushed in embarrassment and fidgeted uneasily.

“I didn’t mean…it’s just that. Well, it’s just that… look at his face, it’s so radiant and…he seems to emanate a especial light and …arghhh.” She mumbled, trying to explain herself, but without success.

“Oh come on, she was just trying to be kind, that’s all.” Goku stated, alarmed at Vegeta’s bizarre behavior, the intensity of his growls was increasing by the minute as he sent a piercing, dangerous look at the frightened girl. The prince looked like a furious wolf ready to pounce on his prey. Goku shook his head in disbelief. He was not entirely sure if he liked this new aspect of Vegeta, but it made him feel very uncomfortable.

“So you were having fun sparring, uh?” Goku commented casually, suddenly changing the subject in an attempt to placate his over-possessive mate.
Gohan, whose reaction had not been as extreme as Vegeta’s, looked at his father calmly, now totally composed.

“We come here all the mornings to train for the tournament.” He briefly explained.

“A tournament?” Vegeta inquired with curiosity, his previous outburst seemingly forgotten.

“Yes, it has been three years since all that fiasco with Buu, and my father has persuaded the organizers of the tournament to celebrate another one this year, he said as a popular request from his fans.” Videl laughed nervously, and added “He’ll never change.”

“It isn’t fair. I’m gonna miss all the fun.” Goku grumbled, pouting like an angry child. Vegeta rolled his eyes at the accusatory glance Goku was sending him, but he remained impassive. The two adolescents chuckled, finding the scene rather humorous.

Goku, tired of being sat, got off Kintoun to stretch his legs a bit. Gohan gasped in shock and his face went pale for a moment, seeing the now protruding belly of his father. He thought he had gotten used to the idea of his father’s pregnancy, at least when it was just an abstract concept, but now that he was confronted with the ‘big, voluminous and notorious’ physical reality, it was like if somebody had punched him right in the face and he was not prepare for it. Meanwhile Videl, fascinated stepped forward reaching out to touch Goku’s belly.

“Wow!” She exclaimed in awe. Goku, frowning, retreated some steps back, covering his stomach protectively with his hands.

“Don‘t touch him!” Vegeta ordered her, starting to growl again at the audacious girl for upsetting Goku.

“Sorry.” Videl said remorsefully, but disappointed.

“Come on dad, that was stupid. You know that Videl would make you no harm.” Gohan remarked angrily.
Vegeta frowned at the demisaiyan, sending him a cold glare

“Boy, I won’t let you speak like that to your father just because you‘re a stupid brat who‘s trying to impress his girlfriend. It’s a natural reaction, his instincts to protect the child run strong. He‘s supposed to act that way and that‘s a motive to be proud of him instead of berating him.”
Gohan hung his head and flushed, ashamed at being reprimanded by Vegeta in the presence of Videl.
Goku, more relaxed once his mind registered there was no threat to his child‘s life, looked at the girl sweetly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude.”
Videl nodded accepting Goku’s apologize with a smile.

“Can I touch it now?” She dared to ask, seeing that Goku was more at ease, with the hope that this time her request would be granted.
The taller saiyan grinned at her, scratching the back of his head.

“No” Was his only reply.
Videl and Gohan sweatdropped as Vegeta smirked in amusement.

“And when do you expect the baby?” Videl inquired with curiosity.

“Supposedly, in three months, but I cannot be sure. Given the extraordinary amount of energy Kakarot had supplied, the baby could be growing faster than expected.” Vegeta explained, an undeniable tinge of pride in his voice as always he mentioned the qualities of his mate.

“Have you already started the preparations for the baby’s arrival?” Videl asked.
Both saiyan looked at each other slightly ashamed and perplexed, it was evident that they did not even think about it.

“I can’t believe it.” Videl exclaimed slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand. “You both had been fathers before, you should know these things.”
Goku laughed nervously as Vegeta frowned, both of them thinking what horrible parents they were and the baby had not even been born yet.

“You better hurry up, there’s no much time left and a baby needs a lot of things: a well equipped room, clothes, diapers... I can help you if you want with all the shopping.” She offered, suddenly excited at the idea of helping the two men.

“That’s very kind of you, Videl.” Goku stated, as he hopped back upon the cloud.

“Hey Videl, we should go to our classes, it’s getting late.” Gohan suggested, then he went to hug his father and saying goodbye to the couple, both teenagers blasted off into the sky, flying away.

The two full blooded saiyans flew in the opposite direction, impatient to get back home. There were lots of arrangements and decisions that needed to be made.

Once inside the house, Goku took off his jacket and trembled at the chill he felt, it was colder than outside. It was middle October and the temperature had decreased some degrees during the last weeks, being an abnormally cold autumn. Usually that was not a problem for the younger saiyan, with his special metabolism and his high energy level he had the capacity to regulate his corporal heat to keep himself warm in spite the exterior climate. But in his actual state he was more vulnerable to the weather variations and he was finding difficult to get used to the new circumstances.

“Why don’t you go and get a blanket to warm you up. Meanwhile I will prepare a hot cocoa.”

Vegeta suggested, smirking at the bright smile on Goku’s face. Lately the younger saiyan had developed an intense craving for chocolate, to the delight of Vegeta who, a fervent believer of the premise that knowing the weaknesses of an enemy was the key to victory, exploited that debility of his mate whenever he needed it, mostly to placate Goku’s mood swings or simply to have him content.

Vegeta embraced his shivering mate and rose his energy until a brilliant aura enveloped both of them, transmitting some warmth to Goku. Once the younger saiyan had stopped trembling, Vegeta dropped his ki to his normal level, letting him go.

When Vegeta entered the living room carrying a tray with two cups, Goku was sprawled on the couch, covered with a blanket. He tilted his head to look up in Vegeta‘s direction, smiling and almost drooling as a delicious aroma invaded his nostrils. He sat up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as Vegeta, laying the tray on the nearby table, handled him a cup. Goku’s tail thumped uncontrollably on the couch as the younger saiyan sipped the hot liquid, letting out a purr of satisfaction at the sensual feeling of that exotic taste flooding through his throat. Vegeta looked at him in amusement as he took his own cup and drank slowly savoring the delicious beverage.

Vegeta leant against the back of the couch, getting more comfortable and put an arm around Goku’s shoulder. The younger saiyan rest his head on the prince’s chest and both remained in a pleasant silence enjoying the stillness of the moment. Soon, though, Goku started to doze off and Vegeta shook him slightly.

“Kakarot, your cocoa is getting cold.”
Goku opened his eyes and took a long sip, trying to shake off his dizziness. Vegeta cupped Goku’s chin and lowering his head licked the chocolate-covered tip of Goku’s nose. The younger saiyan let out a giggle at the tingling sensation.

“Mm, a delicious mix of flavors, chocolate and Kakarot.” Vegeta murmured in a husky tone, licking his lips as he cast a lustful gaze upon the younger saiyan.

Goku, having a sudden inspiration, sunk one finger into his cup till it was completely covered with a thick coat of the sugary substance and bringing it to his mouth he started to suck it slowly and sensually staring intensely at Vegeta with a naughty shine in the depths of his eyes. Vegeta groaned inflamed by mad desire and, grabbing Goku’s hand, engulfed the sticky finger to suction it thoroughly. Goku removed his hand from Vegeta’s mouth and proceeded to sunk his thumb again into the cup this time to caress his lips with the chocolate-soaked finger, and then looked up at the prince with a expression of fake innocence on.

Vegeta groaned at his teasing mate and lowered his head to catch Goku’s cocoa-covered lips in a heated kiss. Goku wrapped his arms around Vegeta’s neck as the prince shoved his tongue into the inviting mouth of his mate, meanwhile his hands roamed all over Goku’s body. After a long while engaged in such display of groping and saliva swapping, they broke apart, all flushed and panting. Goku moaned slightly, his eyes still close and his heart beating wildly.

“Kakarot, we should cool off and discuss what has to be done concerning the cub.” Vegeta commented, more composed than his agitated partner. Goku took a deep breath and nodded in agreement.

Until Videl had mentioned it, it had never occurred to them that there were a lot of things to prepare. They did not get much involved in their previous experiences as fathers, having neglected their responsibilities and left all those details to the care of the mothers. They did not want to commit again the same mistakes. This time the circumstances were very different for both of them. In the case of Goku for obvious reasons, as the ’mother’, he was living the event from a new perspective, and his feelings about this new son were deeper; and he had another priorities and goals than just go to train to become stronger. And Vegeta had changed too and now he really was ready, more than that, eager to experience fatherhood.

“First we should decide which would be the best place to accommodate the baby.” Vegeta observed seemingly to be ponder which could be the best option.

“We can use Gohan’s old room.” Goku suggested, though not totally convinced.

“No, it’s in the opposite end of the hallway, too far from our room.” Vegeta opposed.

“Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t think about it. Gohan’s room was just in front of the bedroom I shared with Chichi, so we could hear him if he cried at night.”

“What about the room adjacent to ours? It has the perfect size for a child and a large window which can provide plenty of natural light.” Vegeta proposed.

“I’m very impressed my prince. You’re excellent organizing and taking decisions.” Goku exclaimed with admiration, hugging him tightly. Vegeta smiled softly, hugging back his affectionate partner.

“Well, I have some experience in that.” He replied chuckling, then added, “Now, let’s go there.”
Vegeta stood up and reaching out helped Goku up. Both of them went up the stairs to inspect the place.

The room was big, it was an old guest room where Chchi’s father used to sleep when he came to visit them. There was a bed, a bedside table, a dresser, an armchair and a floor lamp. Vegeta piled up everything around the bed and proceeded to encapsulate it, in an instant the room was completely empty.

“That was fast!” Goku exclaimed blinking.

As a bonus, there was a fitted wardrobe which would be very useful. But it needed to be cleaned and ventilated.
Vegeta looked around to inspect with more detail the state of the room.

“The walls and the ceiling need to be repainted, the color is horrible and look all those stains.” He said pointing in random directions, it was all covered in grime and dust.

Goku beamed, suddenly remembering something.

“Let’s go to the attic Vegeta, there should be some capsules with all kind of stuff from when my sons were just toddlers. Maybe we could use some of it, that way we can save some money.”
Vegeta suddenly went serious, and looked down at the floor seeming deep in thought.

“What’s wrong Vegeta?” Goku asked, furrowing his brow in curiosity and slight concern. Judging by the look on Vegeta’s face it was obvious that something was bothering the prince.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.” He replied distractedly, then looked up at Goku with a tiny smile on his lips trying to reassure the younger saiyan, not wanting to worry him.
Goku shiged with resignation, he knew Vegeta was up to something but it was useless to try to push the obstinate prince. So he let it be for now.
They went to the attic and soon they found what they were looking for. A crib, a chest of drawers, a rocking chair and many other items in perfect conditions. Vegeta was inspecting some of those things, when he noticed that something had captured Goku’s interest.

“What’s that Kakarot?” Vegeta asked with curiosity seeing the puzzled look on Goku’s face, who hadn‘t kept his eyes apart from the object.

“It seems to be an album, it’s the first time I see it.” He replied, picking it up and sitting down on the ground Indian style. When Goku opened the album, he gasped in shock and disbelief. It was a baby book, a complete record of Goten’s childhood. A diary where Chichi had registered, day by day everything concerning the child. It contained too a lot of photographs: his first day of life in the hospital‘s nursery, his first smile, his first teeth, his first steps…And there were other things, like some locks of hair, sheds of clothes,…

“I can’t understand why Chichi never showed me this.” Goku murmured, confused and hurt.

“Kakarot, the woman was resented cause you preferred to remain in the Otherworld instead of being restored to life, back with your family.” Vegeta commented as he sat down beside Goku.

“But I’m sure she did it for me. Here it is the first year of Goten’s life till the last detail, she wanted me to know our son like if I would have been there to raise him. I know she never forgave me for that, from the very first moment I came back I knew everything was over between us. But I didn’t know till now the extent of her hate. She had no right to hide this from me. That was cruel and mean.”

Goku shook his head, sighing deeply. Vegeta patted Goku’s shoulder in a comforting manner.
They stood there for a long while looking at the pictures, Goku soon brightened up as he contemplated with adoration and deep emotion all those images of his dear son,

“We should do something like this for our child, it would be a beautiful keepsake to be treasured forever. That way, in years to come we can remember together all those moments. It will be wonderful, don’t you think so?”
Goku asked elated. Vegeta just shrugged with indifference. Goku groaned, a little upset at Vegeta’s reaction.

“Oh, come on, Vegeta you could show more enthusiasm. I thought you weren’t afraid anymore to show me your real feelings.” Goku remarked, slightly disappointed.

“Dammit, Kakarot. I like the idea. Now, are you content?” He blurted out with his arms folded.

“Asshole.”

*******************

Gohan stepped out of the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist. As he entered his room to get dressed, his telephone rang. He ran towards the bedside table where the phone was on, stumbling as he almost bumped into his bed.

“Who is…” An authoritative voice interrupted him, before he could say anything else.

“Boy, I need you to do something.”

“Vegeta? Has something happened to my father?” The boy asked alarmed, it had to be something urgent if Vegeta had bothered to call him, it was the first time he did it.

“No, your father is perfectly fine. In fact he seems to be enjoying too much.” Gohan was sure, judging by the smug tone in Vegeta’s voice, that the prince was smirking.

Vegeta, sat on the bed, looked at his playful mate who was laying on his side waggling his tail happily and purring softly,with a dreamy look in his half-lidded eyes. Goku yawned, still a little sleepy and tired. He had awaken very soon that morning acting like a sensual kitten, so the prince unable to restrain his passion pounced on him to have some ‘fun’…twice, and Goku still was in his habitual post-orgasm giddiness.

He started to rub the tip of his tail over Vegeta’s face. The prince, distracted by the flirtatious appendage, forgot for a moment that someone was at the other end of the phone.

“Vegeta, are you there?” A loud voice brought it out of his enthrallment with Goku.

“Yes, boy. I need you to buy some things.” Vegeta sneered.

“What? Why always me?” Gohan murmured with a weak voice, as he sat down on his bed.

“Don’t complain boy, I don’t want to put your father unnecessarily under such stress in his state and there’s no way I leave him alone at home.” Vegeta replied frowning , to immediately soften his features as Goku curled his tail around Vegeta’s arm and started to purr again.

“Ok, but when the baby is born I won’t do more of these chores for you.” Gohan usually did these errands for the two saiyans without complaining, but he had a date with Videl to train and that was the reason why he was a little edgy.

“Whatever, bring all the necessary to paint a room.”

“Which colors do you want?” Gohan asked sighing.

“I don’t know. Kakarot woke up a while ago and he told me he was going to paint the baby’s room but it was going to be a surprise.”

“Well, let me speak with him.” Gohan demanded.

“At this precisely moment I think he’s not lucid enough to maintain a conversation, he's still a little dizzy from…”

Gohan interrupted him. “Please, don’t continue, I don’t need to know it.” Vegeta smirked, he was sure the boy had went pale.

“Fine, I think he’s going to paint a mural or something like that cause he told me that he needed to give expression to something he had envisioned.”

“Uh?” Gohan asked stupidly.

“I know it sounds weird, but boy, it’s your father we’re talking about, you should get used by now to his eccentricities.” Vegeta replied, letting out a chuckled. Meanwhile, Goku had uncurled his tail, starting to stroke with it Vegeta’s torso and abdomen. The prince gasped and shuddered.

“Ok, is that all?” Gohan asked, with resignation.

“No, go to the supermarket and bring some food. And in tons, cause your father lately is eating twice his usual ration.”
Goku was still roaming his tail over Vegeta’s abdomen when suddenly he curled it around Vegeta’s cock and started to pump it up and down.

“Nghh..” Vegeta moaned, arching his back so abruptly that he almost threw the phone to the floor.

“What the hell” Gohan squeaked, almost falling from his bed.
Vegeta immediately covered the auricular with one hand and sent a warning look at Goku, who slowed the rhythm of his stroking.

“You, naughty little devil. I’m talking to your brat…if you continue like that he’s gonna faint. Not that I care, but once you have regained your good sense, you’re gonna be so embarrassed that you won’t be able to face your own son again.”
Goku just shrugged and continued his ministrations.

“Ah…bring some…ah chocolate…ahh.” Vegeta’s moans grew in intensity as Goku increased the rhythm, the furry appendage now moving wildly. “Lots of it, mmm.” While Goahn went pale and then green. He hurriedly hung up the phone feeling nauseated. “Oh my god!” Gohan mumbled, as he staggered towards his wardrobe to catch some clothes.

Vegeta meanwhile was sending a frustrated look at his unpredictable mate, whose tail was now motionless, on the bed, indifferent at Vegeta’s needy erection.

“Great, now that you’ve gotten what you wanted you don’t care about me, neh?” Vegeta groaned, he was going to explode.
Goku smiled and then sank his head on the pillow sighing contently.

“Ah, no. You’re going to finish what you started.” Vegeta remarked, spanking Goku’s ass with the palm of his hand, leaving a red mark on the delicate ivory skin. Goku yelped, looking over his shoulder as the prince lowered his head to kiss the abused spot.
Goku let out a soft purr and curling his tail again around Vegeta’s cock stroked it wildly till the prince came, screaming in bliss.

**************

Once Gohan had done the errands for the couple, he appeared in the house accompanied by Goten and Trunks, who wanted to spend the day with their fathers, having missed them so much during the last weeks.

Gohan opened the door and entered followed by the two kids who ran towards the kitchen excitedly, having sensed there the presence of the two saiyans. The couple were sat at the kitchen table having breakfast, Goku was with his back facing the door. Goku looked over his shoulder as the kids entered and smiled at them.

“Hi, dad, Vegeta.” Goten chirped stepping towards his father to immediately stare, openmouthed and with his eyes about to bulge out of his orbs, at his father’s belly. Trunks who had gone straight forward to sit down on the chair beside his father, looked at Goku just as stupefied as Goten.

“Wow, you’re huge, dad. Does it hurt?” Goten asked without keeping his eyes apart from the fascinating protuberance. Goku shook his head, grinning at his son. Meanwhile Gohan had entered and went to put the bags on the kitchen counter.

“Hey, dad, Vegeta. Isn’t it a little late for breakfast? It’s almost midday.” He asked, sitting down on a stool in front of the table. Goku just shrugged, blushing and Vegeta smirked. Gohan rolled his eyes, mentally scolding himself for daring to ask.

“Boys, do you want something to eat? There’s enough food for everybody.” Goku asked cheerfully, still a little flushed.
Goten shrieked in delight and taking a plate from the cupboard, he rapidly filled it with food. Trunks did the same, and soon the two boys were sitting at the table devouring the meal at superspeed.

“Sorry, dad but I must go, I promised Videl that I would train with her.” Gohan said and, jumping off the stool, left after saying goodbye.

“Well, boys, do you want to participate in the tournament this year?” Vegeta asked looking amused at Goku and Goten, both sat in front of him, devouring the food as if there would be no tomorrow, the two so alike that it was really hilarious.

“Yeah!” Trunks exclaimed, thrilled at the prospect to fight again in front of a roaring crowd. While Goten only nodded because his mouth was all stuffed with food. He gulped and then replied, “Cool, this year I will be the winner!”

“Ha, I will beat you like the last time.” Trunks remarked trying to smirk like his father but failing, to the delight of Goten, who laughed wholeheartedly at his friend.

“Ha, ha…dad have you seen what a funny face?” Trunks huffed annoyed at being mocked by Goten. Goku was so focused on his food that he did not even lifted his head from his plate.

“Are you done, kids?” Vegeta asked, standing up and taking his empty dish to the sink. The boys nodded .

“Well, then help me to clear the table and then we can go to train.” The demi saiyans obeyed quickly without complaining, while Goku finished the content of his plate. Then, he stood upon his feet with some difficulty.

He was feeling heavier and clumsier as days passed and still couldn’t get used to it. How he missed his flat abdomen, his hard muscles, his agility and strength. To fly at full speed free as a bird; to have fun kicking someone’s ass, namely Vegeta who was the only culprit of his tribulations. A good fighting, that was the salt of the life. And here he was confined as a useless prisoner into his own, now monstrous body. Goku gave out a deep sigh, he knew those thoughts were pointless and childish but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

Before going to train with Vegeta, the boys had carried upstairs all what Goku needed to paint the future nursery. Goten initially had been disappointed because he wanted to spend more time with his father. But soon he had stopped pouting, impatient to start the training.

Goku had locked himself inside the baby's room for hours, not allowing anybody to enter. He wanted it to be a surprise. He only had left his voluntary seclusion for lunch, and only after Vegeta had gotten really angry at him. The prince had yelled threatening to blast the damn door. Goku was sad because, since they were together, it was the first time that Vegeta had been so violent. And the fact that it was just because the prince was worry for Goku’s and the child’s health, it hadn’t lessened the pain of seeing his mate so enraged. But when Goku obeyed and got out, Vegeta had embraced him tenderly in apologize. The incident went completely forgotten once they were at the table, with a great meal and the two boys laughing and chatting happily.

Once Goku finished, he went back to resume his task not before looking at Vegeta asking for his permission, the prince had nodded letting out a little sigh. The boys and Vegeta had spent the rest of the day sat in the living room viewing some recordings of old tournaments in which Goku had participated.

“Is that really Goku?” Trunks had asked perplexed. To him it was strange to see that younger version of the taller saiyan, so weak in comparison with his actual power level. After all, they had met Goku when he had achieved level three, the maximum of his power until now.

“You have a lot to learn from Kakarot, kid. He’s the living proof that a strong will is the most powerful arm. You can only progress and achieve the impossible if you have the profound conviction that you can do it. That’s the real source of Kakarot’s strength.” Vegeta stated with a hint of admiration in his voice.

**********

The boys had wanted to see what Goku was doing before they left, but the taller saiyan had refused until it was finished. So they said goodbye through the door. One hour later, Vegeta had come back to try to persuade the younger saiyan to rest.

“Kakarot, why don’t you get out? This isn’t healthy.” Vegeta pleaded softly, he did not wanted to explode again, cause his previous outburst had only served to hurt Kakarot and himself.

“Just some minutes, I’m almost done.”

“Ok, I am going to take a shower. I want you out of there when I come back.” He said before headed towards the bathroom.

When Vegeta returned, the door was open and Goku was a mess, sprawled on the floor, all covered in paint. Vegeta looked around and gasped, flabbergasted at the breathtaking sight. On the bigger wall, there was a view of his castle at sunrise. On a lavender sky, a red sun rose above the horizon, between the snowy peaks of two blue mountains.
The sight exported him to his natal planet. That landscape he had contemplated so many times as a child, and that was now in front of his eyes, so real, transmitted him serenity and peace; the sensation that nothing had changed. That still he was a child in Vegetasei and his father would appear walking through the door of the magnificent palace, as regal and impressive as he remembered him.

“Kakarot, this is like a window to my old home. How is this possible? ” He murmured, still in shock.

“I dreamed of it last night, one of my visions though this was different. I immediately knew that I had to do this for our child, I had the sensation that it was important but I didn’t know why.” He responded, sitting up and beaming at his gawking mate while rubbing affectionately his own belly.

“My home.” Vegeta whispered with reverence, unshed tears of nostalgia shining in the depths of his eyes but he struggled not to cry, in spite of the strong emotion sweeping through him.

“Now my son will see his lost legacy.” Then he looked around at the murals on the other two walls. Goku had recreated with utmost realism two different landscapes of Vegetasei: A mysterious and dangerous jungle, looking at it one almost could feel the dampness and savagery of the place. The other was a rough sea under a storming sky. Vegeta’s eyes went up and down to enjoy till the last detail. Goku had captured with absolute precision all the violence contained in the nature of his planet, what Goku had done was pure poetry for the eyes. Vegeta sat down on the floor beside the younger saiyan and holding Goku’s hand took it to his mouth and kissed it gently, with adoration. Never anybody had made anything for him but bringing pain, hate or discord into his life, except Goku who had never ceased to give him the most precious things he had ever known: mercy with respect and dignity, forgiveness, genuine admiration, trust and faith, an unlimited and selfless affection, a heir, and now this…

“Thank you, Kakarot.” He murmured with a soft voice, never having said those words before to anybody else.

“How would have been to raise our child in our planet?” Goku asked with curiosity, each day he was more and more eager to know everything about his race.

“ Believe me, Kakarot, if his childhood were similar to mine you wouldn’t like it. As the heir of the throne I was a solitary kid, my father kept me apart of what he considered stupid and dangerous distractions, like to have friends my same age or to play carefree and happy like any other child. I had to learn the responsibilities and obligations my status entailed. Isn’t it ironic, Kakarot? I was deprived of my childhood to prepare me to become what it wasn’t meant to be, a perfect leader to our people.” Vegeta at this point was overwhelmed with mixed emotions and his voice faltered for a moment.

“No, it wasn’t in vain Vegeta. What they taught you, your title and your undying pride for your people, those are the things that made you strong and valiant and helped you to survive with your dignity intact. You are a prince, that’s your identity , your title is not just an empty world, it has a deep meaning. In spite of all, you had never renounced to it and you will never do it, cause if you did it, you would be betraying yourself and your entire race, that day you would become an unworthy and disgusting creature. And I know that won’t ever happen, my prince.” Goku looked at Vegeta with such respect and adoration that the older saiyan knelt in front of him and, relishing in the sight of those lovely features, he caressed gently Goku’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“Kakarot, what you’ve done here is almost as beautiful as you.” He said in a whisper, looking Goku intensely in the eyes.

“Well, this beauty needs some rest. I’m exhausted.” Goku said with good humor, relieving some of the tension created by the deep emotions and sentiments the couple had experienced. Vegeta chuckled and standing up, reached out to help Goku up.

Once in their room, Goku took off all his clothes, except his boxers and lay on the bed.

“Feeling better?” Vegeta asked from the door.

“A little lonely.” Goku replied as he patted the empty side of the bed, motioning Vegeta to come by his side.

Vegeta didn’t need more encourage to climb onto bed near Goku.

“My back is killing me.” The larger saiyan exclaimed, contorting his features in a grimace of pain.

“Maybe a massage will help.” Vegeta proposed while running his fingers through Goku’s hair.

“Mmm that would be great.” Goku replied, rolling onto his side, with his back facing Vegeta, who started to stroke Goku’s shoulders, neck and back. The younger saiyan moaned at the pleasurable sensation, but suddenly he squeaked, startling Vegeta, who frozed at the thought that something could be wrong.

“Are you right, Kakarot?” Vegeta asked anxiously.

“It’s the baby.” Goku said as he rolled onto his side, facing Vegeta , who had started to panic at the strange expression on Goku’s face.

“What’s wrong with the baby?” He asked in a tremulous tone.

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine. It’s just that the little one is moving.” Goku said reassuringly, bringing one of Vegeta’s hands to his abdomen to place it right on the spot the child was moving. Vegeta gasped at the awkward but exhilarating sensation.

“My son.” He whispered in awe. Goku yelped all of a sudden, shifting on the bed.

“What happens now?”

“Ouch,” Goku complained, “surely this is your son, no doubt in that, he kicks as hard as you.”
Vegeta smirked proudly, he planted a tender kiss on Goku’s neck while rubbing his belly. Both men remained embraced and purring in contentment feeling the little creature squirming inside the satisfied ‘mother‘.

PLAYTIME 12

Mon, 06 Aug 2007 13:37:34 GMT

WARNINGS: LEMON!

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own DB/Z/GT.

PLAYTIME

Chapter Twelve

Vegeta was pleasantly surprised when a rather horny Goku tackled him on the floor and started to rub sensually his warm body against Vegeta’s while kissing and nipping the prince’s neck.

The moods of the younger saiyan had been swaying a lot during the last days. Sometimes Goku didn’t want to be touched at all; whilst other times, on the contrary, he was all clingy and cuddly, demanding Vegeta’s attention constantly. But it was very rare to see the younger saiyan acting so sexually uninhibited, and even rarer taking the initiative.

Vegeta, completely turned on by Goku’s actions responded bucking his hips up to grind his crotch against Goku’s while moaning and running his fingers through Goku’s hair. After a while, though, the older saiyan was starting to get crushed by the weight of his younger partner, so he pulled the panting saiyan away from him and stood up grabbing Goku’s by the wrist and dragging him off to the couch. Once Goku was laying on his back, Vegeta pounced on him hungrily.

Then they started a restless battle of tongues . Both men were extremely aroused, Vegeta could feel Goku’s erection against his thigh, his own throbbing achingly in response. But suddenly, the prince broke their searing kiss and Goku groaned, all sweaty and flushed by their exertions.

“Why did you stop?” He asked, breathing heavily, brow furrowed in frustration..

“Kakarot, as much as I was enjoying our groping, we should cool off.” He replied, smirking and pointing at Goku‘s erection. Then he added, letting out a mischievous smirk, “Your green friend is coming.”

“Well, I was about to do it too, before certain someone decided to be very mean.” The younger saiyan snapped, giving him an angry look.
Vegeta almost fell to the floor, flabbergasted. He still had not got used to Goku’s unpredictable and weird antics.

“If you want to give him a free performance, fine, but I doubt he will appreciate it.” Vegeta replied, in amusement.
Goku pouted, the sight was so adorable that Vegeta almost pounced again on his mate to devour him from head to toes. The prince sighed and looked away, since he first met Goku he knew the younger saiyan would be the death of him.

Once Piccolo arrived, Vegeta just ‘humphed‘ at the inopportune visitor, sticking up his nose in disdain.

Vegeta went over to lean against a wall and looked at his mate, ostensibly uninterested in their guest. Meanwhile, Goku greeted his friend with a big grin plastered on his face.

“Piccolo, I’m so glad to see you!.“ He said, enthusiastically. Vegeta rolled his eyes at the sudden good mood of Goku. It was disturbing to see him change so drastically in just a split second.

“And why are you here?“ The younger saiyan asked, curious because Piccolo never paid him a visit unless something serious would happen.

“I just was wondering the same.” Vegeta retorted sarcastically.

“I’m here to apologize for my behavior the last time I saw you, it wasn‘t proper of a friend, I was rude and insensitive. It’s just that the news caught me by surprise. And I wanted to know if you were right, Goku.”
The younger saiyan smiled warmly, touched by the concern of his friend.

“I couldn’t feel better. You don’t have to worry, Vegeta’s taking good care of me.” Goku said proudly, as a light flush glowed on Vegeta’s nose.

“I see, so his majesty is taking seriously his responsibilities.” Piccolo mockingly remarked, looking at Vegeta with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Fuck you!” Vegeta blurted out, annoyed at the arrogant attitude of Piccolo.

“Come on, Vegeta. Don’t be a jerk, he’s apologizing.” Goku exclaimed in a chastising tone.

Vegeta just shrugged and walked up to the couch, sitting down next to Goku.

“Fine, at least it’s good to know that Kakarot has the support of one of his friends.’’ Vegeta muttered, while patting Goku’s shoulder.

“That’s another reason why I’m here. There’s something you must know, Goku. It‘s about Bulma.“

When Piccolo pronounced that name, Goku growled, shifting nervously on the couch; and Vegeta frowned, starting to lose his patience.

“Bulma is trying to turn your friends against you, Goku. Yesterday, she gathered all the gang in her house. Everybody thought it was another of her parties. But once all we were there, she said she had something very important to announce.

You should have listened her speech about friendship and trust, a very cunning maneuver. She made a deep impression on her audience with her moving words, to immediately afterwards declare how unfaithful and false friend you had turned out to be, betraying her confidence by breaking her family. Everybody stood stupefied, hesitating whether to believe or not such accusations.”

Goku shook his head, meanwhile Vegeta, who had got up off the sofa scowling, was pacing up and down the room, with his fists clenched.

“That woman, she got some nerve. So now she’s the victim and Kakarot is the villain?” He stopped for a second and looked at Goku, folding his arms. “I can’t believe that she’s trying to damage your reputation just to cover her lies.” Vegeta exclaimed, irate.

Piccolo, raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised at Goku‘s reaction. The younger saiyan just had shrugged, seemingly unaffected.

“Vegeta, why are you so surprised? You should know by now that she’s quite capable even of the most despicable acts to get what she wants.” Vegeta started again his unrelenting walk around the room, while Goku talked with Piccolo about the visit she had paid them two weeks ago.

“She was very cruel, specially with me. She even dared to insinuate that I should have an abortion.”

Piccolo opened his mouth widely in disbelief. He knew that Bulma had a bad temper, but he could never have thought her capable to be so cold and heartless.

“Did the others really believe her?” Goku asked anxiously, with a trembling and almost inaudibly voice. Piccolo frowned, knowing that Goku would be deeply affected by his response.

“You know how persuasive she could be. They were reluctant to believe me when I revealed what Vegeta stated about his inexistent relationship with Bulma.”

“But didn’t Krillin tell them that it was true? Surely they would believe him.” Goku asked, biting his lips.

Piccolo vacillated momentarily when he saw the look on Goku’s eyes, partly hopeful, partly worried. He sighed and continued.

“Well, I asked him to confirm my words, but he hesitated for a moment. I think he didn’t want to irritate Bulma, but he couldn’t either allow your integrity to be questioned. So he replied that Vegeta may have lied and that he was taking advantage of your credulity, because it was unthinkable that you could be mean or malicious on purpose. He didn’t believe you capable to seduce Vegeta, as Bulma had implied, and he conclude commenting that you were putting your faith in someone who didn‘t deserve it.
I don’t know what happened after that, cause Bulma was so mad at me that she kicked me out of her house, yelling and calling me a traitor.”

Goku gasped, disappointed and upset. Vegeta was snarling and cursing in his restless pace around the room. Meanwhile, Piccolo tried to comfort the younger saiyan.

“Don’t worry, Goku. Krillin is confused, he just needs time to think it over. He won’t be so stupid to throw up your friendship. At least he made an attempt to defend you.”

“Yes, by stating that I’m just a gullible stupid and Vegeta a manipulative monster, that’s certainly very encouraging.” He bitterly retorted, staring fixedly at the floor.

Vegeta, sensing Goku’s distress, went towards the couch and sat down next to Goku, looking at his companion with concern. Goku stared back at him, pretending, without success, to look calm.

“I’ll be fine, Vegeta.” He said in a tired tone, and then let out a deep sigh. The older saiyan held Goku’s hand and squeezed it lightly. Piccolo raised a brow, it was so disconcerting to see this gentle side of Vegeta. He looked away a little embarrassed by such display. The two saiyans seemed to be so enthralled with one another that after a while of being ignored, Piccolo coughed trying to catch their attention. The couple looked at him with an inquiring gaze.

“How did Chichi take the news?” Piccolo asked in a casual tone, though it was not a pleasant subject to talk about. Vegeta chuckled and gave him an amused look.

“If you want to know it so badly…” The prince smirked and Goku blinked but didn’t say anything, he didn’t want to spoil Vegeta’s fun.

“Kakarot’s eldest told us that the woman fainted when she heard the news about the baby. The boys were expecting such reaction, that woman is so predictable. I think they even made a bet on how much time she would remain unconscious.’’ Vegeta commented, stifling a laughter. Piccolo chuckled but he regained immediately his usual seriousness. Goku sweatdropped and shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s funny. Hearing her mother curse and insult me were rather shocking for my sons. Goten was so distraught that he even cried when she forbad them to come here.” Goku stated with a desolate look on his face, the other two now were ashamed for having been so unsympathetic.

“But Gohan had the courage to stand up to her. He told her that he was an adult and he would do what he considered to be right, and that they would never forgive her if she didn’t allow them to see me. So, fortunately, she reconsidered her posture. I didn’t know what I would do if I couldn’t see my sons anymore.”

Goku now was beaming with pride, knowing that at least he could count on his sons. And Piccolo smirked, he was very proud of Gohan too. After all, the boy was like a son to him.

Vegeta, relieved to see his mate more at ease, laughed with gusto.

”That was totally unexpected. And I thought the boy had no balls!”
Goku and Piccolo growled at him; the younger saiyan smacked him across the back of the head.

“Ouch! Kakarot…” He stared at his companion with a mocking-hurt look. But Goku didn’t take pity of him, he just folded his arms as if he was waiting for some kind of explanation. Vegeta let out a sigh of resignation.

“Ok, ok. I forgot you two are the official fan club of the brat.”

Piccolo rolled his eyes. Then he decided to change of topic.

“I can never understand human women. They can be so mean and controlling.” He blurted out, with a confused expression on his face.

“Come on, Piccolo, it isn’t fair to generalize. I don’t think is a matter of genders, there are bad people and good people, period. And, by the way, how many women do you know? You are always avoiding other people, I swear you’re worse than Vegeta.” The prince let out a grunt, looking up at Goku with an eyebrow raised, but Goku ignored him and continued talking with Piccolo.

“Maybe you should let your prejudices aside and start to date women.” Goku teased him playfully.
Piccolo went purple all of a sudden and Vegeta could not stifle a mischievous laugh as images of the namekian proposing to a woman on his knees, popped up in his head.

“Kakarot, you have scared him to death.“
Piccolo furrowed his brow in irritation, angry at the two amused saiyans. When he started to growl, Vegeta tried to composed himself.

“Kakarot, I think he doesn’t find it funny. Maybe he prefers to date men, instead.” Vegeta uttered, laughing again.
The purple tone on piccolo face deepened even more.

“Oh come on green guy, don’t tell me you’re scandalized. I can tell you that there’s nothing more pleasurable than to be with another man. You should try it, maybe you would stop being such a prick.”

Goku was at this moment all sprawled on the couch roaring with laughter, his head in Vegeta’s lap, while Vegeta continued with his taunting.

“Maybe you have already got an eye on someone.”

Piccolo had lost his patience. He bared his fangs hissing at the two insolent men.

“You’re a pair of assholes.” He exclaimed, rather pissed off. Then he stormed out of the room. Goku managed to mutter “Sorry, Piccolo” while still laughing his head off.

In spite of that brief moment of fun, the rest of the day Goku had been gloomy and apathetic, thinking about his friends, specially Krillin. He locked himself in the bedroom for hours. Vegeta tried to persuade him to go out but Goku had replied that he needed some time alone. The prince was worried sick and frustrated cause he wasn’t able to help his mate. Goku even refused to get out for dinner. Being used to share constantly his time with Goku, Vegeta had felt alone and abandoned. He couldn’t even eat, it was absurd but the meal didn‘t taste the same without Goku’s company.

He went up the stairs, hoping that Goku would let him sleep with him. He sighed with relief when he saw the door of their bedroom open. He entered silently, trying not to wake Goku up, and pulled off his clothes quickly. Once in bed, he lay face to face with Goku and drapped an arm over him. At the gentle touch, the younger saiyan stirred up and slowly opened his eyes.

“Vegeta, why everybody is so mad at us? Maybe they’re right and we’re doing something terrible.” Goku whispered, in a tremulous tone.

Vegeta stiffened, frowning. Then he let out a deep sigh.

“Kakarot, tell me something, and I want you to be absolutely honest. Do you really believe, deep in your heart, that being together, you and me, is wrong?”

“No, it felt so right to me.” He replied, now less tense. Vegeta reached out to switch the lights on and then he stared at Goku, who had a melancholic expression on his face. His eyes didn’t have his usual gleam, there only was reflected an infinite sorrow, and he look terribly tired. At that sight, Vegeta’s heart skipped a beat.

“Vegeta don’t you think it would be wonderful to go away, just you and me alone, and forget the rest of the world?” Goku asked, cuddling against Vegeta‘s strong and warm torso.

“Kakarot, it isn’t like you to give up and run away like a frightened child. It’s time to show your courage, my warrior. You’re better than all of them, if they can’t appreciate how precious your friendship is, then they don’t deserve it.” Vegeta whispered softly, rubbing Goku’s back in circular motions trying to soothe him.

“No, I want to leave, there’s nothing left but you. Please!“ Goku mumbled stubbornly, embracing Vegeta tightly.

“And what about our sons?” Vegeta inquired, in an attempt to make Goku desist of his absurd idea of getting away.
Goku slipped out of Vegeta’s hold and lay on his back, sighing with resignation.

After a long and uncomfortable silence, Goku rolled back on his side again to look intensely at Vegeta. Then, all of a sudden the younger saiyan started an almost violent kiss, Vegeta responded immediately kissing him back with the same force.

“Please Vegeta make me yours.” Goku begged after breaking the kiss. The tone was so desperate that Vegeta doubted Goku really would desired it.

“Kakarot, sex isn’t going to solve your problems, and though it could make them disappear for a while they still be there and then, you may regret to indulge in an unwanted act.”

“Don’t deny me, Vegeta, I really need you. Please!”

Vegeta hesitated just for a second, then he groaned. This was his mate, his beautiful Kakarot, and was asking to be taken. He started another passionate kiss. When he pulled his lips apart to catch his breath, he looked at Goku with adoration.

All Vegeta wanted in that moment was to cherish that perfect body; to taste till the last inch of that fragrant skin; to feel his warmth and softness; to learn and caress each curve, each muscle, each detail; to engrave that image in his soul forever.

Vegeta lay on top of Goku kissing and sucking his neck, Goku’s moans becoming louder as that talented tongue of the prince began to lick all the way down towards Goku’s chest. And when Vegeta started licking and suctioning frantically one of Goku’s hard nipples, the younger saiyan groaned and whimpered in utter bliss, his arousal demanding urgent attention..

Goku wrapped his arms tightly around the prince and started grinding his hips up against Vegeta’s in a desperate attempt to get some friction on his throbbing cock. But Vegeta pressed his body firmly down against Goku’s to prevent any movement from the younger saiyan. Goku grunted in dissatisfaction, but Vegeta didn’t want just a quick fuck, he wanted to take his time to worship his companion as he deserved. So he continued using his tongue and hands to trace every crevice and curve of that heavenly body, such tingling caresses were making Goku go crazy. The younger saiyan was panting heavily and writhing under such delicious but tormenting ministrations.

Goku was about to explode, he wanted Vegeta inside but the prince seemed to be enjoying too much the sweet torture he was inflicting to his quivering victim. So Goku started whipping gently Vegeta’s ass with his tail, while scratching Vegeta’s tail’s spot. The prince’s body jerked spasmodically at the overwhelming sensation, his aching cock now as hard as steel, but he struggled to maintain control. Goku grumbled, frustrated when Vegeta just continued licking his chest.

He sucked all the way down to Goku’s erection, and then, in a sudden movement, he engulfed Goku’s cock in his mouth and swallowed it till the root. Meanwhile, he spread Goku’s legs and shoved one finger into Goku’s entrance to make sure that his natural lubrication was coating his inners walls. Vegeta didn’t want to hurt his mate. Goku grimaced at the intrusion. Yes, he was all wet and slick inside, but so incredibly tight that Vegeta would need a considerable amount of time to stretch and prepare him thoroughly. He slipped a second finger into that heat and started to make scissoring movements until he felt the muscles loosen a bit, then he slipped a third and immediately a four one and started to pull them in and out. Soon, Goku was moving his hips back and forth to meet the thrusts of Vegeta‘s hand.

At this point Vegeta wasn’t sure if Goku’s moans and whimpers were from discomfort or ecstasy. The younger saiyan was having the time of his life with those fingers fucking him, while being deep throated. Vegeta stopped his blowjob and reached out to grab his pillow and settled it under his mate’s back. This way, Goku’s hips were tilted at the optime angle to make the experience more pleasurable for both of them.

Vegeta pulled Goku’s legs apart and, grabbing his own cock, he spread with his thumb the precum that was oozing from the tip, to lubricate his member. Then he slipped the slick erection into Goku’s opening and tried to push further into that heaven. But he felt Goku’s inner walls tightening around his shaft in a painful grip as the younger saiyan yelped in pain. So Vegeta remained still for a while to let his lover adjust to the invasion. He lower his head to catch Goku’s mouth in a soul searing kiss.

When Vegeta felt the muscles around his length loosen a bit, he broke the kiss and started to move slowly, pressing till he was completely sheathed inside Goku. Then he pulled out till only the head of his cock remained within, to immediately slide back in, settling an agonizingly slow but hard pace that was driving Goku crazy. After a while, though, Vegeta increased the rhythm, slamming into that tight hotness faster and harder. Goku didn’t cease to buck his hips up and down wildly to meet his lover’s brutal thrusts, while moaning and groaning with increasing intensity.

Vegeta, taking pity of Goku’s needy state, angled his hips to brush Goku’s prostate with every shove, eliciting screams of pure bliss from the younger saiyan, who was all flustered, fisting his hands in the sheets and tossing his head from side to side, a lustful expression on his face. Vegeta, at that sensual sight began to move at super speed. Now he was hammering into Goku so deep and forcefully that both saiyans were unable to restrain their animalistic howls.

Vegeta could sense that his mate was nearing his climax, so he started to pump frenetically Goku’s erection.

Soon, Goku started to spit his cum all over their chests and abdomens, clamping his inner muscles around Vegeta’s cock in a tight grip. That was enough to send Vegeta over the edge. He plunged twice into that hotness and then he came, spurting loads of cum deep within his mate. Vegeta screamed madly as he felt an indescribable pleasure overloading his senses. Then he collapsed atop that sticky and sweaty body, and he remained there for a while listening to Goku‘s heart beat, his now limp member still buried inside the younger saiyan.

Once he regained his breath and his body stopped to shiver from the intensity of his climax, Vegeta observed Goku attentively. The younger saiyan was breathing with difficulty, a smile of pure bliss on his face and his eyes closed, still lost in he daze of his orgasm. Vegeta sighed with contenment and, pulling his shaft out, he rolled off Goku’s body. Then, he pulled the pillow out from under Goku’s back and lay on his side, drapping an arm over Goku’s stomach. The younger saiyan opened his eyes and rolled onto his side till he was face to face with the prince. Vegeta pulled him closer to share a heated kiss.

“How do you feel?” Vegeta asked in a husky tone, while running his fingers through Goku’s hair.

“Mmm…wonderful.” Goku muttered, still a little dizzy from the mind-blowing experience.

Vegeta smiled, feeling sated and tired. He planted some butterfly kisses over Goku’s face and neck before switching off the light, and lay down again on his back. He was starting to drift into slumber when Goku snuggled closer against the older saiyan and started to run his tail all over Vegeta‘s body.

“Vegeta?” Goku asked, whispering sofly.

“Mmm?” Was the only sound that came out of the mouth of the drowsy prince.

“Will you stay by my side tomorrow when I wake up?”

“Sure.” Vegeta managed to articulate, then he yawned and dozed off. Goku chuckled and curled his tail around Vegeta’s arm.

“Good night, my prince.” He murmured softly before joining his mate in his peaceful slumber.