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Warnings: yaoi lemon, cussing, sweat, an inexcusably bad joke.
Disclaimer: I own neither DBZ nor the characters therein. No profit is intended.
Summary: A companion piece to "All that Glitters". However, while that story was inspired by Xero Sky's magnificent "Trinity" -- which I suggest everyone read...at least twice...a week...or more -- this is its own story and is Goku's side of the coin played therein. You don't have to have read ATG to get this one, but they butt up against each other nicely, I think.
Oh, and thanks to Ouji-sama for beta-ing and for the trouser snake. It was originally the trouser mouse, but somehow, that just didn't convey the proper...size...*snerk*....
Dedication: This is for Zo. You know who you are. And why.
No one had knocked on his door for days, and the decisive rapping tore him out of pleasant lethargy and into an honest to the gods startlement. He stared at the blank wood for a long moment until another series of sharp knocks broke his stupor.
"Who is it?"
"Kakarot? Open the damn door!"
Frowning slightly, Goku went to the door, then hesitated to open it. Visitors, he could dig. Vegeta...well...he wasn't so sure.
He opened up anyway, and there stood the Prince of all Saiyans himself, tapping his booted foot impatiently, arms crossed over his chest, scowl firmly in place.
"What do you want?"
"A spar."
"No."
Much to Goku's amusement, the elder Saiyan's face scrunched up into an absolutely childish expression of petulance.
"Why not?"
Color rushed to his face, but he did his noble best to play his embarrassment off as anger. "Because you're an asshole who takes cheap shots and has the brass cajones to laugh about it afterward."
Black eyes widened. "That was not a cheap shot!" Catching himself, Vegeta regained his untouchable poise. "While I admit that our definitions of such differ greatly, Kakarot, you cannot think that a single shot to the groin counts as cheap in the heat of battle."
He could almost see the heat rising from his face, and now a little of it was actually from the anger he was trying to imitate. "I don't think a...a grope counts as a shot, Vegeta!"
And I didn't much appreciate you laughing at the...reaction you got, either, dammit!
But he didn't say that. Couldn't. Was it his fault that his equipment had no sense of propriety?
Luckily, Vegeta looked too scandalized by the accusation to notice the bitten-off tone of his retort. In fact, the other Saiyan looked damn near stricken.
An awkward silence fell. Goku glared at Vegeta's boots while the Prince remained wordless. The moment drew out painfully, neither combatant giving so much as an inch until an almost physical tension built between them.
Finally: "Did it feel good?"
The bottom fell out of his stomach, and he actually stumbled back a step as he jerked his eyes up to meet Vegeta's.
"What?"
But the other seemed unusually patient and simply repeated the question. "Did it feel good, Kakarot?"
"I--what--did--" He cut himself off, eyes wide. He was incapable of coherent thought, let alone coherent speech.
Vegeta stepped closer, his head tilted slightly to one side and his usual scorn seemingly absent. "Did it feel good? Is that why you're so furious? Why you'd refuse a spar?" Those black on black eyes seemed huge, but only because they were suddenly so close. "Is that why your gi was so tight so quickly?"
Swallowing, he willed his feet to back him out of range, but they stubbornly refused. Instead, his mouth opened of its own volition.
"You laughed."
One eye twitched, as close to a flinch as Goku had ever seen on the arrogant visage.
"I'm sorry."
And now his feet did finally back him away, nearly tripping over each other in their haste. He stutter-stepped until his back pressed against the safety of the wall.
"Just like that? You're sorry?" He couldn't prevent an almost harsh laugh. "Who are you and what have you done with Vegeta?"
Thankfully, the Prince stayed put, though his mouth opened and closed twice before he finally managed a reply. "I did not mean to laugh, Kakarot. I was...surprised."
Wary, now. Oh, so wary. "So, you didn't mean to laugh at the happy idiot getting a boner from a royal grope?"
Oh, smooth, Goku. It took all of his considerable will to keep from smacking himself on the forehead.
"I did not."
Wariness mixed uneasily with confusion, leaving him afraid to open his mouth. Something told him that much more than his foot might get caught in there if he did.
Surprisingly, Vegeta lowered his eyes first. "I didn't know...I thought...I didn't mean...."
This silence was far more awkward than the first, mainly because no anger filled it. Vegeta seemed...abashed, and Goku just didn't know what to make of the situation. His embarrassment burned deep -- had since that first, harsh bray of laughter three days past -- but now confusion, perhaps his greatest weakness, added to the mix until he couldn't make sense out of anything.
"Vegeta...." He sighed, shifting slightly away from the wall. "What happened?"
A huff that could have been a sigh or a small laugh. "I managed a cheap shot, and you managed a hard-on." His eyes lifted again. "What I do not understand is how one came from the other."
Oh, and the blush that had just started to wane came roaring back, warming him from his neck to the roots of his hair. Even his ears seemed to burn with it.
Vegeta's eyes narrowed, a slight twist quirking his lips. "Did you enjoy it, Kakarot?"
He choked.
Black eyes twinkled -- twinkled! -- and Goku wanted to sink right through the floor and spend some quality time with his late brother in Hell. Dr. Gero might be a nice break. At this point, he'd even take a chat with Frieza. Anything but this!
"You did!" And the smug bastard laughed again, a single ha! thrown to the ceiling.
"Vegeta, dammit--"
"Oh, no, Kakarot. I intend to enjoy this to its fullest."
He squinched his eyes shut and lowered his head, mortified to the very core of his being, fury warring with the sick feeling in his stomach until he needed to either throw up or throw a kamehameha wave. At this point, either option was equally viable.
"Vegeta, don't laugh...please...."
And then an entire body pressed against his, leaning him back against the wall, and his eyes squinched tighter. Preparing for a whole new kind of hurt, he grit his teeth and tried to convince himself to open his eyes and meet the scorn head-on.
And damn if he didn't feel the ol' trouser snake waking up again.
"Kakarot."
"Don't laugh...."
A single finger touched his cheek, then traced the curve down to his chin.
"Kakarot."
Feeling like the biggest idiot in the universe -- as if all the times Vegeta had thrown that particular insult at him were all true at the same time -- he cracked one eye open and dared to look down into his long-time rival's face. Dimly surprised to find it barely a breath away from his own, he fought the urge to jerk away. When no burst of jeering, hateful laughter seemed forthcoming, he opened the other eye, hands fisting at his sides, body tense and nearly quivering with sick anticipation.
"Do I look like I am laughing?"
He studied the Prince's face. While the old arrogance remained -- more a subtle air of smugness, of nobility, than actual disdain these days -- no cruelty hardened the chiseled features. No hint of impending laughter, of taunting words tinted the dark eyes.
"No...."
A smirk, almost soft enough to be a smile. "Did you like it, Kakarot?"
Ooohhh...I am in so much trouble....
"Did you?"
His eyes closed as a hand strong enough to break the world cupped over his groin again, setting off the same instantaneous firestorm that had so humiliated him just a few days past. His breath hissed in past his teeth, and he let his head drop back against the wall.
"You can admit it, Kakarot."
I can't....
A gentle, terrifying, absolutely wonderful squeeze sent all the blood in his body rushing to one place. Warm breath fanned his chin, and his mouth opened to say something, anything. His throat worked, issuing sounds with no form.
"Because it certainly feels like you enjoy it."
Hot. Entirely too hot. He couldn't breathe, and he felt sweat trickling down his back.
Another squeeze, followed by a slow stroke up the line of his zipper.
"I most certainly enjoy it...Kakarot...."
Oh, gods....
"Oh, fuck yesssss...."
He didn't wait for Vegeta's response. At this point, pride was moot. Pushing away from the wall, he snaked his arms around his old rival, hauled him in tight, and covered the usually taunting mouth with his own. A dark chuckle vibrated against his tongue, but he didn't mind. Something told him that the Prince wasn't laughing at him.
Could have been the tongue so eagerly playing with his own.
His arms tightened, as did the hand on his erection, and he nearly bent Vegeta over backward in an effort to thrust his tongue down the chuckling throat. To his surprise, the elder Saiyan made no move to take over the kiss, to shove him off, to disrupt the hard embrace in any way.
Was this what he wanted all along? Was this what I wanted? What the hell is happening?
But he didn't truly care at the moment. Vegeta's hand never left off its careful caresses, and he'd never expected to find the Prince's body so yielding, so willingly pressed against his own. And the heat between them, the swirling and ready lust that he'd never expected in himself or in the man he'd fought against and with for so long....
"Slowly, Kakarot." Another dark chuckle. "We have time."
Growling low in his chest, he switched their positions and pressed Vegeta back against the wall, silencing him with a wet, deep, and thorough kiss. Again, the elder Saiyan didn't protest, seemingly content to follow wherever Goku led. It was almost unnerving, but things had passed far beyond nerve between them.
Much too far.
A single jerk took care of Vegeta's shirt, an answering tug removing his own, and the feel of satin skin and taut, shifting muscle under his fingertips brought something between a moan and a growl from his throat. His almost delicate touch hardened, the caress over the Prince's broad chest changing to a firm stroke and a grip on one shoulder. He paused then, though his instincts warned that to stop now meant stopping for good, and simply looked at the other Saiyan for a long moment.
Vegeta had never looked so calm, so content, though his eyes blazed with barely suppressed lust.
"Vegeta...."
"Slowly, Kakarot. I will not disappear."
His eyes narrowed, and he crowded close again, quirking a hard little grin when the shorter Saiyan had to tilt his head back to keep eye contact. He lowered his head but kept his lips just out of reach. Panting, he dropped his free hand to Vegeta's groin, giving it a good, hard stroke before popping the button and somehow managing the zipper. Vegeta sucked in a wavering breath and held it, and Goku's hard grin widened as he caught a handful of naked, hard erection.
"Slow later."
He stroked, running his thumb over the tip, and the Prince trembled.
"Agreed."
And suddenly, hard hands were everywhere, clothing flying to the far reaches of the room. At last, they were naked against each other, the heat nearly unbearable, lust pouring out of them with the sweat streaking every muscle and hollow.
He spared no time preparing his lover. Every second seemed almost painful in its intensity, and he simply couldn't wait that long. A thrust, a howl, and a bit of squirming, and hot bliss engulfed him, making the firestorm of that first, long ago touch seem about as intense as a match in the wind. He burned...but he stood still for a long moment even so.
"Okay?"
The word was a rumble away from a growl, but the concern behind it was sincere.
"Move, Kakarot."
He didn't have to be told twice. He bucked his hips to seat himself more firmly, chuckling deep in his chest when the move brought another howl, then pulled out and thrust hard, sinking all of himself this time. The Prince cocked one leg up over his hip, tilting himself to change the angle, and Goku thrust again, harder, feeling the tight heat all the way up his spine.
"Oh, gods...."
The purring groan could have come from either of them, or both at the same time. It hardly mattered. Thrusts came harder and faster, and he dropped his hands to grip that delectable ass, lifting his lover just a bit so that Vegeta could wrap both legs around his waist. The new pose allowed for deeper thrusts, and Goku couldn't help speeding up, using enough of his strength that the wall protested such treatment.
Though Vegeta didn't seem to mind.
"Kakarot!"
Harder still, and he felt his energy rise with the heat of his blood. Alarmed even through the heavy haze of lust in his mind, he tamped that building energy down, unsure what it would do if he let it all out. Vegeta's hips slammed against his own, blunt fingers digging into his back, strong legs locked around his waist, and the pressure crested, dragging a roar from his throat.
"VEGETAAAAH!"
He thrust with all his considerable might, the verge of climax bowing his spine backwards as he howled...
* * *
...and jolted up in bed, a hand clapped over his mouth as the echo of his own shout rebounded around the bedroom.
Oh, shit....
"D'mmit, Goku...'ll make Mexican food t'morrow...."
What??
He sat very, very still, his body thrumming with orgasm so close he could nearly touch it, hand clamped over his mouth, every nerve screamingly on edge. ChiChi rolled toward him, her face drawn into a scowl even in her sleep, and his breath -- still quick and heavy from his dream...vision...whatever -- caught in his throat.
"Damn Saiyans...all y'wann is food...."
Was she talking in her sleep? Had she heard?
Her eyes opened, and he felt all the blood rush from his face. Luckily, all the blood rushed out of his erection, too, and he'd never felt less like coming in his life.
"ChiChi?"
A heavy sigh. "I said I'll make your damn Mexican food tomorrow. Go back to sleep, dammit!"
He couldn't have faked the blank look her words produced, so he was dimly grateful to her for it. "Mexican food?"
She dug the heel of her hand into her eye, grunting and leaning up on one elbow. "You wake me up in the middle of the night screaming for fajitas, and you don't remember?"
Fajitas?
Eyes wide, he mentally groped for the happy idiot face that always seemed to get him out of whatever jam his big mouth got him into, and suddenly it clicked.
Fajitas! Oh, for the love of...!
His usual expression slid perfectly into place. "But...you make the best fajitas in the world, Chi! Can't you just make one? I promise I'll go right back to sleep."
She thwapped him upside the head, scowled for good measure, then rolled over and yanked the covers up over her shoulders.
"Is that a no?"
"Goku!"
"Sorry! I'll...I'll go back to sleep...."
Unable to believe his good fortune, he remained still for an agonizing minute until her breathing evened out again. When she let out a dainty, quiet snore, he finally relaxed, digging his fists into his eyes and wondering what on Earth had just happened.
Had one little grope and one not-so-little hard-on really brought about that vivid a dream?
And...was his mind trying to tell him something?
He'd never thought much about Vegeta -- at least not in that way, because he actually thought about the elder Saiyan's fighting style and verbal shots a lot -- but he had indeed reacted instantly to his old enemy's touch. He doubted the haughty Prince meant anything by that grope if all that laughing had been any indicaton, but....
Could...could something really be there? Between them? Did he want something to be there?
Did he dare to--
Another delicate snore wafted up from the pile of covers beside him, and his thoughts -- not even fully developed -- came to a crashing halt.
ChiChi. Oh, Chi....
What was he thinking? He couldn't...they couldn't...he should never have....
Vegeta....
Deeply troubled, he lay down on his back beside his wife and stacked his hands under his head, staring up at the ceiling. He lay that way for a long, long time.
END
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