Actions

Work Header

Mowing the Lawn

Chapter Text

Being well in your twenties meant that visiting your girlfriend during a martial arts retreat could no longer be considered “sneaking out.” Especially if your old, slightly pervy master was not only aware of your intentions, but had subliminally encouraged you to do so. Even so, Yamcha was feeling too nostalgic of the old times to abandon the expression. It added some thrill to the cherished -once forbidden- habit.

He was in high spirits, despite not having won the tournament. Against opponents like Goku, Krillin and Tien, he would have to have been delusional to think he ever stood much of a chance in the first place. Nevertheless, he couldn’t say he wasn’t proud of himself. All of master Roshi’s students had done extremely well. His girlfriend would have poked fun at him for not having won a medal, but it mattered very little. Yamaha knew she had a very special consolation prize in store for him that night, after all.

As per usual, they’d gone out to the pub to celebrate. Master Roshi had had one drink too many, so Goku and him had to walk him back to the hotel. As the walked their old master waddle his way into the hotel’s entrance, Yamaha noticed a short, sleek silhouette leaning against a tree, right in front of their hotel. He didn’t have to look twice to know who it was and neither did Goku.

Yamaha had noticed the way his friend had kept looking around after the finals. The man hadn’t participated that year, and had waited until the very end to make his entrance. Just to see Goku fight. And now he was casually hanging around their hotel, with no one around. There was no doubt who he was waiting for.

“Hey, Goku, I’m thinking of sneaking out tonight. Bulma’s father owns a flat here in town, he’s letting her stay there. Do you wanna come with?”, he suggested, his eyes darting to the figure leaning against a tree, right in front of their hotel, “She probably has a couple more beers and something to snack on. You can come over, keep the party going.”

Bulma probably wouldn’t have had anything in against the idea. Tien had retreated to his room long before and Krillin had wondered off with his girlfriend and her twin brother. Celebrating her victory in the female tournament, no doubt.

Yamcha didn’t know how to feel about leaving his friend alone with that person. Goku, the other hand, didn’t seem to share his buddy’s worry.

“No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun, guys.”

Goku could be clueless at times, but he could sense that Yamcha had looked forward to that night for a reason. His friend looked somewhat relieved to be discharged of some moral responsibility.

“You sure?”, he asked again, already turning to be on his way.

Goku turned down the half-hearted invitation with a wave of his hand.

“I’ll be fine”, he reassured. “Have fun!”

And with that, Yamcha left him, daring to sneak just one last glance over his shoulder once he was at a safe distance. Only then he saw Goku make his way to the tree. The man moved a few steps forward to meet him. The young man couldn’t help but grimace. He’d seen them fight before. It had been the most brutal face off Yamcha had ever seen in a competition.

The year they’d met on the ring they’d wound up with broken ribs and dislocated shoulders. They had both been disqualified. After that, encounter, it seemed they’d trained exclusively to face off again in the next tournament. Except, Goku had put on so much mass he had to change category. So their rematch had had to wait. Every casual encounter after that had been charged with unspeakable tension. Yet, for some reason, it didn’t seem to be solely confrontation now.

There was something going on between those two, Yamcha just couldn’t put his finger on it. There wasn’t much more he could do but wonder, since he never stuck around enough to find out.

 



“You reek.”

Such was the greeting Goku had walked over to.

“You think?”, he wondered, hooking a finger on his collar, sniffing. “That’s odd, I did take a shower. At least, I think so.”

Coal-black eyes darted to the medal that hung on the youth’s strong chest and back up again, without a word. Goku simply smiled. He knew the man’s pride would need to leave some things unspoken.

“It’s been a while, Vegeta.”

The man took a step closer. They stood like that, one breath away from each other, staring. The lack of a reply didn’t bother them. Most of their conversations were spoken in silence.

“There’s beer on your breath”, Vegeta observed, matter-of-factly.

“Been out celebrating with the gang”, Goku explained, amiably, “Just to have a couple of drinks.”

“And your friend?”

“He’s off having a couple more at Bulma’s, I think.”

“I could use one or two myself”, Vegeta insinuated.

Goku took the money he held up between two fingers, quirking a brow, in a way that was more knowing than inquisitive. He knew what he had to deposit in the awaiting palm in return.

“Get a few. I’m not drinking if I’m drinking alone”, the older man instructed, putting Goku’s room key away in his pocket.  

“Gladly. But it’s going to be hard walking you back to your hotel if we’re both drunk”, Goku pointed out, “Where are you staying at?”

“Nowhere. I wasn’t planning to come. This was an impulse decision. I took the train this morning.”

“You must be tired, the journey’s quite long”, Goku pointed out, blinking.

“Not really. I slept on the train.”

The younger man tilted his head, his eyes softening. His rival glowered as a precautionary measure when he saw him lean closer.

“And you came all this way just to see me?”, Goku murmured.

“I said nothing of the sort, fool”, the other man retorted, turning his head away. “What I said was that this was an impulse decision. That’s all.”

Goku pursed his lips a bit. Then, he sighed, defeated, straightening himself up again.

“Don’t come back with convenience store garbage. I don’t want cheap stuff.”

“But there’s no other story nearby!”, Goku complained.

“Good. Take a walk. The shower will be free by the time you get back”, the other replied, drily, as he walked past him towards the hotel.

“Hey, ‘Geta?”

The man turned to glare at him, irked by the nickname.

“What’s in your impulse-decision-trip bag?”, Goku wondered, a sardonic, lopsided grin on his face.

“None of your business, Kakarot”, Vegeta retorted, flaring up just slightly before storming into the entrance hall, with clenched fists.
Suddenly, Goku was all too willing to take that walk to the nearest supermarket.

Chapter Text

To Vegeta, Kakarot was overwhelming in almost any situation, but he was especially so when he had his lips wrapped around his tip, hands grasping the base of his shaft.

Vegeta barely stifled a groan. To the detriment of the composure and poise he prided himself in, he was now gracelessly slumped in the armchair, legs spread wide open and hanging on the arm rests. The robe he’d wrapped around himself after the shower had come undone, leaving him bare and exposed. His sensual slackness was hardly noted by his conscious awareness. His senses were all too engrossed in the delightful tingles with which his lover’s mouth lavished his loins to mind anything else. When he glanced down - Kakarot’s lips engulfing him, sucking him in, his rough fingers stroking him, firm but gentle, and the hot wash of his breath against wet, tingling skin when he panted for air, huskily- he was nothing short of a work of art.

Kakarot looked so handsome like that, dark lashes fluttering, brow furrowing slightly every now and then as he bobbed his head up and down. His eyes were uncharacteristically closed, but Vegeta didn’t feel less adored for it. Kakarot’s molten tongue was doing the worshipping in their stead. There were hints of crimson on his cheeks and ears, where breathlessness, arousal and the celebratory drinks had drawn his colour. Undoubtedly, other parts of him had flushed with red too. Even so, he reserved his touch for his lover alone. One large, warm hand cupped his sack, the pad of his thumb languidly circling his oiled-up entrance.

Vegeta reached between his thighs, stroking the dark, lustrous mop. He let himself be pulled downwards, lifting his legs against his chest, until his rear rested at the very end of the seat. He whispered fervent words of encouragement and his lover obliged him, fingers slowly sinking into him.

Goku looked up, lips latched on the side of Vegeta’s length, suckling and nipping softly. Dark eyes hungrily roaming the pale breadth of his lover’s chest, ears eagerly drinking the sounds that escaped his lips. His fingers slipped inside until hard knuckled kissed the taunt rim.

Vegeta’s breath hitched when Goku’s fingers flicked inside him a couple times, as they were wantonly pushed deep within. His hand fisted locks of dark hair. Kakarot was mouthing his balls, making his fingers slowly twist around and then curl upwards. Vegeta’s vision blurred for an instant, teeth gritting to stifle his moans. Rough, relentless digits were stroking him right where he needed it.

Goku was breathing heavily now too, mouth agape, fervently licking at his lover’s arousal. Being knuckles deep within the welcoming hole was just as much of a sweet torture for him as it must have been for Vegeta. The heat inside becoked him, unbearably sweet. In the state of dizzy arousal Goku was in, it was all too easy to imagine himself plunge into that maddening warmth. His own sex stood stiff between his legs, achingly erect. He hummed softly, raining hot kisses across his lover’s groin.

The older of the two was writhing weakly, bucking against his lover’s hand as much as his position consented him. Their eyes interlocked. Desperate hunger found a voice.

“Vegeta…”

Thick fingers slipped free of their velvety cage.

“Goddamit, Kakarot”, Vegeta groaned, watching his lover surge between his legs.

His body covered his own smaller frame in a passionate embrace. Goku’s lips were moist against his.

“I want more. I want you”, the younger man pleaded, earnestly, unable or unwilling to stop himself from grinding in between his companion’s legs. “Can we, ‘Geta?”

Vegeta could feel the heavy erection swelling against his own. His head spun. Pale hands clung to strong shoulders.

“The bed. Just take me to the goddamn bed.”

They had gotten up too fast. Heads spinning, hands and arms clung to each other for balance as they fumbled backwards, mouths and feet never coming too far apart. Goku pulled, taunting with his lips, Vegeta pushed, urging with his hips. Somehow, their entangled frames crossed the dimly lit space that separated them from the bed without tripping over each other's eager feet. There was some hearty struggling, a playful fight for dominance, and the room turned into a blur as they rolled on the sheets, breathlessly. They came dangerously close to pushing each other off the edge of the mattress a couple of times.

When the room finally stopped spinning, they were sitting up in the bed, fragrant skin glowing like amber in the golden light of the lamp.

Vegeta’s back arched to meet Goku's frame. Their bodies were locked together as they claimed each other’s mouths, swaying gently every so often. Vegeta cupped his lover’s face, his touch sweet but tyrannical, claiming kiss after kiss with tongue and teeth. Goku’s arms sealed their sensuous embrace, enfolding Vegeta’s sides, strong hands cupping his rear, pulling his hips against his. Idle friction bloomed across the length of their frames, from their thighs to their chests. Their erections were trapped in the warm space between their stomachs, pulsing in excitement.

Vegeta sighed, feeling digits trace the cleft of his rear and curl into him once more. Goku hummed, carefully sampling the stretch of his accommodating flesh.

“Fuck, Kakarot…”, Vegeta let out, letting the younger man’s hands turn him around and guide him onto his hands and knees.

Dark eyes took in the bent arch of the man’s back, the pale perfection of muscle-creased skin and the round, seductive shape of his rear. Calloused palms caressed the length of that eager body, tracing the strong shoulders, the slight inward depression where muscle hugged his spine, with worshipful adoration. Goku cupped his companion’s buttocks, spreading them with his thumbs to gaze at the moist glistening of the well lubed pucker. It looked rosy and loose and flushed, and it clenched under his eyes. And he felt his sack tighten with want at the sight. He reached for the nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube and, in his eagerness, squirting a very generous amount of it in the palm of his hand. He oiled himself up and used the excess liquid to further prepare his companion, who seemed to visibly quiver with impatience.

Vegeta’s fists were curling into the sheets, lube dripping slowly along his taint. Strong hands were on his hips, holding him still as their owner slid his straining erection between his buttocks. Goku ground himself against his companion’s rear, breath hitching when the man beneath him started pushing back against his groin. He fell forward, covering Vegeta with his own body. The oldest was pushed down on his forearms, the mattress yielding to their combined weight. Goku's chest pressed against Vegeta's back, his length pointed downwards, slick and hot, trapped in the cleft of his rear. Goku was panting against the back of his neck, hips rolling wantonly.

Vegeta groaned. His usually all-too-eager lover seemed bent on driving him insane. The rubbing of the thick shaft along his taint sent pleasurable shivers rippling through his loins and up his spine. He wanted to chastise him, to urge him to get on with it, but even that not-so-dry humping felt unspeakably good. His arousal saturated to the point of no return. Goku’s languid motion, his breath in his hair, the sturdy, chiseled build covering his own like that… they were stacked on top of each other like dogs in heat, and it turned him on beyond belief.

“You’re a mess, Kakarot…”, Vegeta let out, hoarsely, hardly masking his want.

“I can’t help it… it’s been so long… ’Geta, I need you… I want you so bad!”

“Then hurry up, you fool”, he nearly whined, “Stick it in already!”

Vegeta mourned the warmth when his companion sat back on his heels, but cherished the warning squeeze of Goku’s hand on his hip when he lined himself up with his entrance.

“Here it comes…”

A lustful sigh escaped both their throats when Goku pushed himself in. Vegeta felt a smile curl his lips upwards and had no doubt Kakarot’s had too. Neither of them could ever forget how the other’s body felt, but it had been a while while since they’d done it and the moment of penetration had them both silently wondering if it was the booze or the wait that made it feel so amazing.

Vegeta had always enjoyed sex, but few times before had he been so ashamed of how good it felt to be simply entered. It became painfully clear to him just how much he’d been waiting for it. As soon as his lover breached him, tension seeped away from his body. Suddenly, his insides felt tender and hollow, and the arch of his back turned meek and complacent. And that had been just the tip.

“‘Geta…”

His lover’s hands were stroking his sides. Vegeta pushed back against the promised fullness, slowly, letting turgid heat fill his gut.

’Geta...

“I know. Get over it.”

Goku didn’t need further encouragement. If anything, less of it would have been more helpful. Between his starved eagerness and the warm buzz in his veins, he feared he was not going to last much longer. But the first, sharp hint of pleasure had receded like a tide. So he surged forth, reverently, into the warmth welcoming him, pulling in and out again and again, slowly, until he’d claimed all the space his arousal could take up within his lover. He looked down, a silly, lopsided smile curling his lips, watching his hands cupping the firm roundness that was swallowing him whole. More than the sight, it was the feeling of deep, flickering twitches around his length that beckoned him to motion.

Vegeta felt Goku’s grip on his hips tightening slightly. Another polite warning. He braced himself, tongue swiping across his bottom lip in anticipation.

The two of them both had reason to be silently grateful for the copious amount of lubricant they’d used beforehand. Their appreciation, on the other hand, grew more and more vocal.

To slow swaying followed steady, rhythmic rocking. Grinding progressively evolved into hearty bucking. Goku had thrown his head back, lips disclosing into a sigh. Each enthralling stroke sparked coiling delight in the pit of his stomach. The heat and tightness around him kept him moving him back and forth like the pull of the moon with an ocean tide, and his seas, once calm, were storming. The swinging of his hips was accompanied by the sharp smacking of skin against skin. His hands were getting greedy, palming and squeezing his lover’s sides, tugging.

Vegeta, on his part, had a similar impression, to be lost in stormy seas, yet he had no complaints. He pushed back on his own accord, gladly leaning into the hammering thrusts. Jolts of pleasure shot through him with each deep, dragging stroke. He’d found himself with his face and chest pressed down on the mattress as he rocked his hips back to match the other’s motion. His shoulders trembled, his back endured the strain, but it was worth it.

He was too lost in sensation to keep himself from groaning. Restraint was out of the question, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware the noises of their coupling. If it hadn’t been for the sounds escaping his lover’s throat, he would have been much more embarrassed by the ones escaping his own. Kakarot’s cock could play him like a violin. And the pounding hadn’t even gotten serious yet. Vegeta could tell his lover was getting more and more worked up.

The mattress was soft, frustratingly so, too pliant to aid Goku’s bouncing motion. The youth was balancing on his feet, knees raised off the mattress, toes curling. It wasn’t long before he lost his precarious balance.

They both grunted when Goku fell forth, bottoming out inside Vegeta. The younger murmured an apology, muffled by the burning kisses peppered across the older man’s shoulders. When his hips started rolling again, Vegeta had no complaints about the abrupt interruption of their crescendo. The position was a bit awkward, the mattress unhelpful. Even so, the new angle had him moaning in no time.

Goku was haunching over him, his strong legs were bent, on each side of Vegeta’s own, and his thrusts sunk downwards, hitting right where he needed them. Vegeta succumbed to his weight, pressing himself on the mattress. His hand had run in between his legs, where pressure had grown too stark to be left ignored. Fingers curled around his pulsing length, sighing his relief. Their coupling had grown more languorous again but he could hardly resent it. Goku’s hardness plunged into him deep and steady, the weight of it buried in the tightness of his gut, heating it up with its deliberate, profound massage.

Vegeta turned his head to the side. Goku’s hand was curled in the sheets next to his own. He reached out for his arm, trailing open mouthed kisses across his forearm. The gesture earned him a whimper from his lover. Sometimes, the way the younger man could fire sudden, bursting tenderness out of him frightened Vegeta. Even so, for both the pleasure and the trouble he gave him, he felt grateful. No one else could fire his lust in that way, nor take that molten, shapeless yearning and decline it so eloquently. Whichever language their desire spoke, it was the same.

The youth pressed his head in between his shoulder blades. He was panting. Vegeta could feel his hot breath ticking the base of his neck.

“Made you break a sweat already?”, Vegeta taunted.

“You just… feel so good”, was Goku’s groaned reply.

Vegeta could feel the heat radiating from his lover’s body surround him. And Kakarot’s scent, his rough, earty musk mixed to the fragrance of his mint and pine shampoo wafting off his damp hair. That damn scent of his. Vegeta could’ve gotten drunk on that fragrance alone. That and the sounds of his enjoyment, rumbling off his powerful chest and keening into an unexpectedly high, ecstatic pitch. He humped like an animal but sang like a boy. Anything the younger man did was undeniably, absolutely inebriating.

Goku’s passion flowed into him like a current, relentless, constant, ever growing. Vegeta was losing himself in his motion. His sex was twitching in his hand, in anticipation.

Then, abruptly, Goku pulled out.

“What the h-?!”, the older of the two began to protest, but he was cut short when his lover dragged him down on the mattress.

Goku had flipped him on his side and was pressing up behind him, holding one of his legs up. Vegeta could feel the hot hardness twitching against his backside. He arched into the heat.

“Put it back in”, he ordered, twisting his head around.

Goku was all too willing to accept his kiss as he was to obey his command. They were quick to rearrange themselves to fit against each other, it had become almost instinctual for them. Taking a firm hold of himself, the younger man slid back home with a sigh, almost effortlessly this time around.  

“Oh fuck-!”

Goku was grinding into him, making Vegeta groan in pleasure as he felt the turgid tip rubbing against his prostate. Goku could wear him like a glove. There was no sensitve spot that his lover's cock didn't rub the right way, nor space left inside of him that it didn't fill. Vegata was absolutely stuffed full and loving every second of it.

“Oh God, ‘Geta… It’s like it was made for me…”

“I could say the same about you, you… you-”

Goku slammed into him. Vegeta gasped, breath knocked out of his lungs. He would have been willing to pay money to find out how that man could always manage to find just the right angle every single time.

“All good?”

“You bastard”, he was whimpering, beckoning him with the tilt of his hips. “You know damn well how good it is. Now give it to me.”

Vegeta could have sworn the length buried inside him had twitched at his words.

“Like this?”

“Just like that- oh, fuck, Kakarot…!”

Goku’s birth name was a mouthful compared to his nickname, but Vegeta loved to have his mouth full of it. The English language couldn't have begun to describe the way Goku felt when his name was on the other’s lips. No one pronounced it like Vegeta did. It cracked and roared like thunder when it rolled off his tongue, like winds of storm had ripped it from his chest. And Goku lived to make him speak it in the accent he preferred: cries of ecstasy.

"Ka-ahn ka-nh rooH th-"

Goku's thrusts had evolved into a full-body motion. Each roll of his hips rocked their entwined frames like waves rocking a raft adrift at sea. His hand gripped behind Vegeta’s knee, plainly trying not to yank his leg back too hard in his attempt to shove as much of his sex as he could into his lover's hole. Vegeta didn't fail to notice the other's care, even as he plunged into him over and over again, with apparent unbridled savagery. It made it all the more endearing, the way Goku worked so greedily for his own pleasure. Vegeta, on his part, did the same. He had reached between his legs, touching himself, pumping in time with his lover’s rhythm.

“Oh God, Vegeta…! ‘Geta…”

“This all you can do, Kakarot?”, he hissed, dragging his tongue across his lover’s bottom lip, frenzied with lust, “Give it to me. Harder.”

The hitch in the other’s breath tickled him in all the right ways. Goku was surging into him with all the ardor the irksome softness of the mattress allowed him. Vegeta stroked himself faster, smirking as he listening to his lover’s labored mumbling.

“Oh God… OhGodohGodohGod-“

Goku hilted himself inside his lover, trembling, and held onto him, unmoving. Vegeta’s smile died on his lips, feeling something leak out of his entrance. He looked over his shoulder. His gaze was returned by a blurry-eyed stare.

“Already? Really?”

“Sorry, I couldn't help it”, was the dreamy reply, “You're so beautiful when you get like this...”

“Sweet talk won’t cut it”, Vegeta muttered through his teeth. "You better keep that dick in there until I finish, you-

Whatever curses Vegeta had built up behind his teeth were cut short. Goku was gone from behind him. Before he knew it,  his lover was on top of him, settled between his legs, crouching on his haunches like a tiger ready to pounce. Vegeta found himself on his back, spread out and exposed. His eyes shot downward to what had sprung free from his body.

“You-!”, he sputtered, in disbelief, gawking at his companion’s flushed yet miraculously still stiff and ready sex, throbbing lively between his legs. "You're still hard!"

Goku held one of Vegeta’s legs close to his body, seeking the heat of his lover’s hole again. He thrusted in, ripping a groan out of Vegeta’s throat.

The older man was gazing at him. Whatever displeasure had unsettled him before was gone from him. His toned, arching body spoke nothing but lust. Goku’s head was spinning, balls aching for release once again. He saw in golden hues. Vegeta’s skin glistened like fused metal under him, stretched over taunt muscle and flushed where his lips had bruised him before. Dark eyes sought his like he was daring him to posses him until their passion ground their bones to dust.

“I just can’t get enough of you”, Goku groaned, hands stilling his hips as he ground himself into the puckered hole, savoring he the feeling of his own spent frothing around his swollen girth.

“You freak”, Vegeta husked, nothing but endearment and arousal on his voice, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

And Goku had meant it. And he meant to spell it out in capital letters. Vegeta knew he would from the moment he felt the slightest squeeze in his grip.

This time around, whatever desire had fueled him before, burned brighter. There was no need to start slow when they were both riled up beyond their comprehension.

Vegeta had thrown his head back, unable to contain the moans and cries ripped from his outstretched throat. Goku was slamming into him hard and fast, his hold on his hips harsh enough to bruise, but the rough handling elicited no complaints. Vegeta’s prostate was receiving the much longed-for ruthless pummeling he’d been craving for weeks. The hand he had wrapped around his sex could hardly keep up. The other was raised above his head, gripping the edge of the bed, holding onto the mattress for dear life. Each thrust sent thundering shocks into his core, guts victim of uncontrollable throes of ecstasy.

That was it. That was the kind of thing they both needed. Hot and heavy and wet and loud.

Goku’s eyes were fixed on his lover, soaking in every single detail. He was feeling a pleasure so intense he could hardly keep himself straight his legs anymore. His lover was hot and tight around him. The sensations pulling at his cock left him breathless.

Vegeta was looking at him too. His hands reached out for the vision of bulging, rippling muscles, clawing at his powerful chest, craving contact. He didn’t have to wait long before Goku let himself fall forward, covering him with his body.

Goku loved to see Vegeta writhing in pleasure like that. His hands, his sex, his eyes, every part of his body hungered for him, more so now that he had him moaning under him than it had before. Rivalry was a sweet spice to their attraction, but Vegeta’s pride was a cruel mistress only distance could appease. Still, whatever kept them apart kept bringing them closer and closer together. They could dissimulate all the wished in public, there was no faking, no deceiving themselves when they were together.

Goku’s eyes burned into his lover’s face until he returned his gaze. Now he had him, he knew he had him right where he needed him to be, past every pride or pretense. The stars flying through their eyes crashed together and burned.

"Vegeta, you don't know how much I've missed you."

Vegeta couldn't help but feel vulnerable. Even though Goku was balls deep inside him, that intense, yearning look in his rich, brown eyes was the most intimate touch he'd ever experienced. With Kakarot, the line between senseless fucking and lovemaking thinned dangerously. And he threaded gloriously on that blurred edge like being careless and being carefree meant the same thing to him. Kakarot had taken his heart tightrope walking on livewire.

“So much... I missed you so much… I missed you so much”, Goku was groaning over and over again. "Vegeta..."

Vegeta’s arms were immediately around his shoulders, pulling him down until their noses brushed together, their breath mixing between their panting mouths. Passion let them loose, truth spilling out like water out of a crumbling dam.

“Vegeta…”

“Me too. I missed you too.”

Their mouths crashed together with dangerous ardour. Vegeta kept his lover’s mouth on his, clinging to his lips by his teeth, hands curling into his thick, dark mop to hold him in place. His legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing his sides, ankles crossing behind the small of his back. An arduous feat, given how wildly Goku bucked into him. He groaned and hummed into his mouth. His lungs were aching. Their lips broke apart, the sounds of their pleasure spilling out once again. The younger man was almost curled over his lover. His weight bore down on Vegeta, coiled behind every single relentless thrust that shook his frame. He was edging towards the peak. Vegeta’s hands raked down the strong back. Goku had wrapped a hand around his sex, the feeling of that rough, warm, familiar palm was slowly dragging him towards his demise. Every muscle in his body was tensed and curled, ready to snap at any given moment. He was so close.

Goku leaned his head against his shoulder, breathing his stuttering breaths into the crook of his neck. He was rutting like an animal, Vegeta’s sex leaking and twitching in his hand, his voice cracking in his lover's ear. Suddenly, as it always happened, he was struck by the truth of the feelings building up within him. It wasn’t that his desire was laced with profound tenderness, it was exactly the other way round.

“I love you.“

He didn’t receive a reply. There was no need for it.

Vegeta’s nails dug in his skin. Goku felt his body spasm and clench around him. Heat blossomed between his fingers, hot spurts of liquid hitting both of their chests. His nostril’s flared when the scent of orgasm hit him.

He bucked faster and faster into Vegeta’s quivering body, until the heat that had wound up inside him broke loose. He finally came with a loud, fervent groan. Glorious, ached-for, overpowering release.

Strenght seeped from his bones, leaving listless. He abandoned himself on top of his lover, finally spent. The fruits of Vegeta’s cooling pleasure sticked to his skin, but he didn’t care. He was too blissed out to think about that. All he cared for was the tingling daze left behind by what had to be one of the hardest, most mind-numbing orgasms of his life. With the little energy left in him, he wrapped his arms around the man heaving underneath him.

Vegeta returned the embrace, digits soothing the marks his nails had left across the other’s shoulder blades. He closed his eyes, feeling the thick length still buried deep inside him slowly soften. He made no comment on just how much spent he felt leaking from his entrance. He made no comment at all, neither of them did.

It was always the same. There was nothing they could say that hadn’t been already shared in feeling. They never knew what to do with themselves. So they simply stayed quite, into each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow, post-orgasmic endorphins coursing through their bloodstream.

As always, for Vegeta, that bliss was tainted. If Goku sensed his lover’s anxieties, he didn’t let it show. Vegeta had to envy his calm. Goku was languid, head resting on his lover’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. The weight of him was welcome, more so than the sinking feeling oppressing his chest.

It wasn’t that the man above in was his rival, or the best lay he’d ever had in his entire life, or clearly in love with him. It was all those things, but it wasn’t it that troubled Vegeta. What troubled him was the tormenting doubt: what was he to do with all the unfathomable tenderness that man kindled within his chest?

After they’d crossed paths, it had been like they’d found gravity. They’d become obsessed, first with their fighting, then with each other. Though training to knock the other out on the floor of a tournament match hadn’t brought them anywhere near settling their score yet, they’d successfully found themselves backed into a corner. They’d been meeting in secret like that for months now. They hadn’t been keeping track, but it must have been almost a year since they’d started sleeping together. Each time they had, Vegeta was more and more aware that it wasn’t going to be the last. He’d often found himself wondering how much longer they could go on telling themselves what they were doing was a secret. What had sparked as an impulsive urge was developing into something that was more than just a convenient, occasional arrangement. It was more serious than that.

Vegeta couldn’t lie to himself anymore. There was nothing he could do to erase the fact that he was falling head over heels in love with that man. After all, you can’t stop a runaway train.

“We’re taking a train tomorrow”, he suddenly suggested, inspired.

“For where?”, his lover inquired, sluggishly.

“For anywhere.”

Pensive silence followed his proposal. If Goku was surprised by his invite he didn’t let it show. He merely pushed himself up just enough to look at his lover in the eyes, all lidded eyes, kiss-swollen lips and messy hair. Vegeta felt like cursing. For a second he feared the other was going to ask him for his reasons. But of course, he had no need to do so, since he already knew them.

“I had promised my mothers I’d be back to their place to do house sitting while they’re-“

“I couldn’t give a damn about that, Kakarot”, the other rebuked, imperiously, “Let’s go someplace. Just the two of us. A week, two weeks, a month, a year, forever, I don’t care. Let’s just leave tomorrow, before your nosy friends start swarming around you again. It’ll be my treat. I’m not asking for anything.”

The younger man’s lips curled into a grin. If there was someone who could get away with complete and obnoxious disregard of etiquette and general politeness in Goku’s book, that had to be Vegeta.

He pushed himself back up on his haunches. His limp length finally slipped out, leaving the older man wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. Goku’s eyes admired the copious mess they’d made of each other, before drifting back up to Vegeta’s expectant face.

“What are you planning to do with me if I say yes?”, he inquired, cunningly.

“We’ll figure it out as we go”, came the dry rebuke.

Vague. But the younger man would have needed much less to be swayed.

Goku bent down, cupping the other’s face, visibly glowing when the other accepted his touch. He kissed him, hot and deep, wrapping his arms around him once again.

“Alright”, he agreed in a murmur.

Vegeta let himself be lifted in the other’s embrace and shifted around, so that the two of them could settle under the crumpled, dirtied sheets.

“Not going to take another shower first?”

“It doesn’t bother me”, Goku murmured in reply, nuzzling his neck, “I love how you smell after.”

Vegeta wasn’t a fan of grime, but he made no move to do anything about it either.

“Suit yourself. But I’m not sucking you off first thing tomorrow morning, when your morning wood wakes me up.”

“I’m sure someone’ll take care of it.”

They both knew neither of them was going to pass the chance the morning after, with or without showering.

Vegeta stretched an arm out to flip the light switch but hesitated.

“Kakarot.”

“Mmh?”

“Congratulations on your victory”, the older man finally conceded.

Goku smiled against his skin.

Vegeta turned the lights off and darkness fell in the room.

Chapter Text

Yamcha had foul breath and wore the same smelly clothes from the night before. Nevertheless, there was a spring in his step when he made his way back to the hotel the next morning. He’d had a wonderful time the night before. Bulma was the kind of girl that made it hard for him to believe his luck every time she invited him into her bed. He had all but forgotten he hadn’t been the one winning the medal and the prize money at the tournament.

He idly wondered how his room mate had celebrated his victory, after the unannounced meeting of the night before. If a fight had broken out, he would have heard something about it from Krillin or master Roshi. Surely, his friend handn’t just gone straight to bed. Even after so many years of acquaintance, Goku was still somewhat unreadable to him. If Yamcha had to guess, Goku had probably wondered off to look for some cheap thrill -or rather, what his version of a thrill was- most likely a place that served food late at night, because that’s what Goku did when he was in a good mood. He was somewhat of a hedonist in that way…

As the elevator doors opened on his floor, however, the trail of his thoughts was interrupted. Yamcha couldn’t help but stare at the disheveled beauty that hurried past him to catch the elevator. His bewildered eyes followed her, duly noting her embarrassed, shifting gaze, the way her hair stuck to the back of her head, how the dress she wore and the high-heeled shoes that dangled from her hand didn’t suit the time of the day. Only when the girl’s eyes met his, he averted his prying stare. He was by no means an expert, but he knew enough to know what a walk of shame looked like.

Then the elevator door closed and the vision disappeared.

Yamcha didn’t quite know what exactly had clicked into his mind -maybe it was because the girl was dark and fiery-eyed- but he suddenly suspected he knew what door she’d come out from. Pursing his lips, he opened the door to his room. What he saw, seemed to confirm his suspicions.

His side of the room was just as he’d left it. Goku’s side however…

“Well… Who would have thought!”, Yamcha whistled, impressed, smirking from ear to ear. “Seems like Goku is not as innocent as he would have all of us think!”

Beer cans were scattered here and there on he floor. The sheets on Goku’s bed were crumpled, the pillows in disarray and the scent wafting weakly off of the bed erased what little room had been left for interpretation. As it should have been expected, the faint sound of running water came through from underneath the bathroom door.

Yamcha knocked, calling out loudly over the noise.

“Hey, Goku, It’s me. I just came back to pack my bag. But I still have to get some stuff from the bathroom.”

“Uhhhh… Can it w- uh… can it wait?”

That made Yamcha smirk even wider. The alarm in his friend’s tone was proof enough to confirm his suspicions once and for all. Goku had never been shy about his nudity. He must have been in pretty rough shape…

But the man had also just won a martial arts tournament, so Yamcha thought it wise to let his hand draw away from the door handle. The teasing would have had to wait.

“Sure. Just make sure to bring my stuff down”, he let him know on his way out, showing his back over his shoulder, “We’re all meeting up in the lobby later. Check out is in thirty minutes. Don’t forget!”

He left the room as merrily as he’d walked in. He couldn’t wait to tell Bulma what he’d just found out.

Inside the bathroom, Goku was standing still under running water, pricking his ears.

“I think he’s gone”, he finally let out in a sigh.

“Good”, his lover hissed, irritated. The tiles of the hotel shower were hard on his knees. “Let’s make these thirty minutes count.”

Goku stifled a groan. Vegeta's head had promptly sunk down and the two of them had resumed where they’d left off.

Lucky circumstance indeed, that Goku hadn’t wanted to shower the night before, or Yamcha would have walked in on his friend writhing against his rival’s generous mouth.



“You know, waiting you directly at the train station like we’d agreed would have saved me a lot of trouble. What is so exciting that you wanted me to come all the way here for?”, Bulma complained, fanning herself with a hand.

She’d received a cryptic text from Yamcha, summoning her to the hotel where he was staying quite urgently. He’d refused to tell her why. She’d had to walk quite fast to get there in time. The effects of her morning showers had already been defeated by the heat and the rush. Instead of smelling like her delicate, lily-of-the-valley shower gel, she was now sweaty, sticky and slightly out of breath -and patience, at the sight of her boyfriend looking childishly expectant when he saw her.

“So, where’s the fire?”, she inquired, already unimpressed by the seeming lack of anything remotely interesting happening in the hotel lobby.

“No fire. At least, not now. But some sparks definitely flew yesterday night”, Yamcha reported, leaning close, animated and conspirational like a teenage girl over some saucy gossip.

For some reason, he looked and sounded very proud of himself.

“Gosh, Yamaha, is this about last night? You know I was there, right? You better not had me come here just to-”

“No no no, this is something better! Er- even better!”, he corrected himself, after catching his girlfriend’s glare.

“How so?”

“I saw the hottest chick when I was coming back to my room this morning. I swear, she was a vision. All ruffled and dark-haired and she had the skimpiest dress and a great pair of- Ouch!”

“What part of this nonsense is supposed not to make me want to rip your face off, exactly?”, Bulma inquired in a venomous hiss, as she yanked her boyfriend by the ear, quite harshly, “Ugh, and you smell too! Weren’t you supposed to have plenty of time to shower?”

“I was getting there!”, Yamcha complained, clasping his abused earlobe, “You see, this girl, she clearly looked like she had some fun the night before, right? And she got on the elevator on our floor. And, then, when I got to our room Goku was in the shower.”

He paused, theatrically, waiting for a reaction.

“… And?”

Bulma wasn’t sure she’d understood where her boyfriend was trying to go with that absurd revelation.

“Don’t you get it? Our good ol’ friend got lucky last night! With some stranger hottie!”

Bulma seemed to consider the scenario for a moment.

“That might not mean anything. Maybe she came from another room.”

“Maybe. Maybe the mess on Goku’s sheets was just mayo, then. A whole jar of it-”

Ewww. Too much information!”, Bulma grimaced, swatting the air before her eyes as if to disperse the disturbing visual that had just been conjured up in her mind.

“You see my point now? Goku definitely scored last night.”

“Why on earth did you think I needed to know that? Or call me all the way here, for that matter.”

“So that we could both be here for this moment.”

“And what moment would that be?”

“Oh, you know. It’s a very special moment in a boy’s life…”

“Oh, please! This is not his first time.”

Bulma’s remark sounded just a touch too knowing for Yamcha’s taste. This time it was his turn to frown.

“Just what makes you sound so sure about it?”

He’d always known Bulma had had a crush on their mutual friend. It had gone unspoken, but it had been clear as day for years. Bulma was the kind of girl who’s very open with her feelings and very direct with what she wants. Uncharacteristically, she’d never really come on to Goku -probably because she saw him  more as a little brother than anything else- but she’d never bothered to hide the way she looked at him, at times, when she felt significantly less sisterly towards him.

Goku being younger, buffer and stronger than him, this crush of hers, albeit insignificant, never failed to make Yamcha feel insecure and, consequently, jealous.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, stupid, it wasn’t me!”, Bulma retorted, returning the indignant frown, “I just happen to know some things.”

“And you never thought to share this knowledge? I thought he was a virgin all this time”, Yamcha carried on, his sensibilities now upset by her secrecy.

“Would that have been important to know, for your friendship? That he isn’t a virgin?”

Bulma was visibly annoyed. That was yet another sore spot in Yamcha’s pride, and a strain their relationship: Bulma had been Yamcha’s first, but not the other way round.

“Well, no- not really, I’m just saying…”

“I swear I will never get you boys and your inferior logic”, Bulma sighed, rolling her eyes.

In that moment, Master Roshi made his appearance, looking a lot merrier than someone who should be suffering quite a grandiose hangover.

“Morning, lovebirds! Had fun last night?”, he inquired, eyeing the young couple ever so significantly.

Bulma scoffed, turning her head the other way. She found herself wondering why she still hung around that old sleaze.

“Master, I absolutely need to tell you about this chick I saw last night on the elevator”, Yamcha approached his master, grateful for the distraction and hopeful that he of all people would have been positively receptive of his story.

He was halfway through describing said chick when Goku finally got down to the lobby. Yamcha turned to him as soon as he caught a glimpse of his signature orange sweater, ready to grill him about every raunchy detail with a toothy grin on his lips…

A grin that died as soon as he laid eyes on the shorter, darker figure that walked behind him.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late!”, the young man greeted them as if there was nothing unusual about the situation, “Here, Yamcha, this is the stuff you left in the bathroom.”

“Thanks, man”, he replied, drily.

He eyed Bulma and saw his same confusion reflecting on her features.

“We’re off to the station now. We’re running a bit late and Bulma has to buy her ticket, so…”

“Oh, don’t worry, she can have mine”, Goku helpfully offered, fishing the piece of paper from his bag. “I won’t need it?”

“Sorry, what?”

The weider the situation got, the wider Yamcha’s eyes became. It was clear nobody was gonna address the elephant in the room, who was currently waiting a few steps away, burly arms crossed over the sculpted chest and an annoyed look on his face that was clearly directed at their group, despite facing in another direction.

“I decided I’m not going back home just yet”, Goku said, simply, as if that explained anything at all, “I’ll see you soon at training as soon as I do come back. Have a safe trip!”

“W-wait! So… where are you going?”, Yamcha stopped him as his friend started walking towards the entrance.

“Dunno”, was the disarming -yet, frankly, not unexpected- reply.

Equally disarming and less expected, was the expectant look the young man shot behind his shoulder.

“To get breakfast”, the older man informed, heading for the entrance himself, “Before you get whiny.”

“How does he know that about Goku? Since where those two hang out together without breaking each other's bones?”, Bulma whispered in her boyfriend’s ear, staring at the odd couple as they walked off together.

Yamcha slowly shook his head. He’d barely registered what his girlfriend had said. His mind was too busy processing the stinging feeling that his nose had picked up a hint of the same pine-tree shower gel wafting off both men. Or maybe it had just been his imagination.

“You don’t think they got into a fight?”, Bulma continued, “I thought I saw some bruises on Vegeta.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he was the one that got lucky last night”, Yamcha wondered out loud, trying to remember seeing the man in their hotel at any point during their stay.

“With the dark-haired hottie from last night you were telling me about earlier?”, Master Roshi butted in, “Like hell he did!”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I did.”

What?”, Bulma let out, slightly horrified.

How?”, Yamcha asked, not unimpressed, despite himself, “Goku and I were with you all evening and walked you to the hotel!”

“Picked her up at the hotel bar. Took only a couple extra drinks too”, the old man gloated, toddling proudly ahead of them, “This old grandpa still got it!”

Chapter Text

“He said what?”

Seripa had been a martial artist, in military training and was currently serving in the police force, running for Captain after years of service, but she’d been lucky enough never to incur in any sever injury that resulted in a hearing damage. She had heard what her wife had told her loud and clear, hers was disbelief.

“He said he won. Not that any of us thought he wouldn’t, obviously. I only asked for politeness. I knew he was going to bring the gold medal home”, Gine explained, looking way too self-satisfied for not being the one to win the competition -nor able to assist to said competition, as a matter of fact-, “He takes after you.”

“Like hell! If he did, he would have some more sense of discipline in that thick skull of his. Besides, you gave birth to that one, didn’t you?”, Seripa rebuked, sternly. “He said he’s not coming home?”

“He called earlier. He said he was going to take another week off to take a trip, do some holidays”, Gine explained, merrily tying the lace of her apron behind her back. “He says he doesn’t know when he’ll be back yet.”

“That little- Never could hold him down. When he sets his mind on something, he’s just… Incorrigible, he’s always been. And an airhead, as per usual…”

“He’s going to be fine, he has won the prize money.”

“That’s no it”, Seripa retorted, bending down to angrily untie her shoes, “We asked him for a favor, a very simple one too: stay here while we’re gone, deal with the pool boy, water the plants and feed the cat. We even stacked the fridge full for that ungrateful runt, and then just blows us off at the last minute!”

“It’s going to be fine”, Gine shrugged, raising her head from the cutting board when her wife marched her way into the kitchen.

She always had the “work walk” when she was pissed.

“Oh yeah, what are we going to do? Stuff Monkey in a bag and bring her along?”, Seripa suggested, sarcastically, leaning on the kitchen isle when her wife was expertly slicing up vegetables.

The Bengal cat’s head stood to attention at the mention of his name. The police officer returned his gaze with pursed lips, as if to look for the sympathy her seemingly carefree spouse wasn’t giving her. Her attention was diverted when something cool and fragrant was pressed under her nose.

Gone was leaning forth onto the counter, tempting her with a cherry tomato.

“As much as I’m sure Monkey would enjoy the trip, it won’t be necessary”, she purred, pressing the fruit in between her spouse’s lips, “Kakarot has already taken care of everything. He said he asked his brother to cover for him and Raditz accepted. He’s coming over as soon as he gets the authorization from work, but he’s sure he will get it. So you won’t have to worry. About. A. Thing.”

She stressed her last words by gently tapping Seripa on the mouth, something that never failed to make the other woman melt.

“I’m sorry”, the police officer finally conceded, he shoulders dropping, “I don’t won’t to ruin our holiday. I just want everything to be perfect.”
“It’s not like I never knew I was marrying a control freak”, Gine giggled, slowly making her way around the counter, slowly placing her hands on the other’s shoulders, rubbing her back, “But it’s part of the reason why I married you. I need someone to keep me on my toes, and you need someone to help you get loose.”

Seripa smirked, slowly turning towards her, hands surging to her deliciously slim waist. Her eyes roamed up her body, in a way that had never managed to get old or trite in over 20 years of marriage.

“Keep dinner light tonight.”

“There she is again, the control freak I married”, Gine rolled her eyes, a bright smile on her lips as she brought her hands to rest on her wife’s shoulders, “You have some nerve, bossing a professional chef around in her own kitchen.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare. You are the maximum authority in this kitchen”, Seripa replied, shooting her the charming, lidded-eyed look that had won Gine over as soon as their eyes had crossed, “I just have something else I’m looking forward to.”

“And that is?”

“Dessert.”



For Raditz, any excuse to earn some well-deserved time off work was a good excuse. He wasn’t too thrilled about having to spend it at his parents’ place, especially if it was to cover for his little brother’s irresponsible ass. That little spoiled, selfish brat was way too old to keep relying on him like that. As if Raditz hadn’t had anything better to do with his time.

Well, normally he would have. Fortunately for his selfish, spoiled little brother, things in his life had been a bit dull lately.

The 27 year old inhaled deeply as he got off his motorbike and walked up the driveway. If he had to find a silver lining in that situation was that his mothers’ house was big, spacious, with a big tv screen was a fridge stacked full of food and beer.

“Hello, moms!”, he greeted when the front door opened to welcome him.

“How is my beloved first born doing?”, Gine asked, hugging her son, “Gosh, I swear you’re taller every time I see you.”

Raditz rolled his eyes. He’d known for years he’d been adopted and was entirely fine with it (mostly because it meant he and his brattish sibling weren’t related by blood, but would never admit it out loud). As for her second statement, the tiny woman had had to step on the tip of her toes for most of his adult life now, yet she seemed endlessly surprised by her son’s height. It was just one of her many quirks, one that made her impossible not to be in love with. Gine had an odd charm that enthralled everyone around her. With her around, Raditz was incapable of keeping his sullen mood. She might not have been his biological mother, but the love he had for her was as strong and spontaneous as an innate instinct.

“Are you sure it’s not you getting shorter?”

“I’m not that old yet!”, the tiny woman pointed out, looking offended.

She was right, she wasn’t even in her fifties yet and she inexplicably looked a decade younger. She claimed it was all thanks to her healthy eating, to which even Raditz -who didn’t mind his diet has much since he’d moved out- could have objected, given the woman’s prevalence for red meats. Whatever it was, it was working.

“Oh, look who it is, my slightly less irresponsible son!”, Seripa introduced herself, emerging from the doorway.

“Oh, don’t get him started on Kakarot!”, Gine warned, with a side glance, “Whatever mean comments you two have to say about him, have the decency to keep it out of my ear reach. I won’t Stand to hear my baby slandered.”

“You were always too soft on him”, Seripa sighed, stepping forth.

“Hi, mom”, Raditz greeted, putting his bad down to share with the woman a brief hug. “Happy to be of assistance.”

“Complaints later?”, Seripa whispered in her son’s ear.

“Did you get the beer?”

“Your favorite”, the woman replied, giving him a wink as they parted.

“Then, let’s have a couple. Later”.

Gine pursed her lips and glowered at them, unamused.




The landscape outside of the train window flew by faster than thoughts. The outline of buildings flowed into the outline of fields and distant hills. The route was long. On the other side of the window pane, the sun had started until the edges and colors suffused into blue blur.

Vegeta kept looking at the window he’s insisted to be sitting next to, but his eyes weren’t staring in the distance. On that darkening background, his gaze followed the pale outline of Kakarot’s face reflected on the glass, discreetly, in his simulated disattention. He watched the handsome line of his jaw, his nose, his lips, the dark locks of hair falling on his forehead and then, tensing up slightly, his dark eyes, returning his transfixed stare. He saw the hint of a knowing smirk and he felt annoyance spike within him. He was upset. Upset at the soft creases of those damned dimples showing at the sides of his mouth. Upset because a simple look from Goku was all it took for the younger man to get under his skin. But most of all, he was upset with himself because it had taken him so long to gather whatever courage he’d needed to take Goku away alongside him.

But now he had him, at long last, him and his blasted dimples, his full smile and his damned, dark eyes. And Vegeta had him all for himself.
Goku’s smile faltered. Vegeta’s eyes followed the pale reflection of his own hand slithering across the armrest to settle on the other man’s thigh. His fingers squeezed, feeling the maddening firmness of sculpted muscle under the cloth. His pinky slipped further down, daring. Then, the hand moved further along. Goku’s lips parted, soundlessly, in understanding. His own hand twitched, as a reflex, but he made no move to stop what was happening. He was never too self-conscious of his surroundings. With Vegeta by his side, the rest of the world paled and faded into the background. All he could see was the profile of the other man’s face, the side of his neck left exposed by his collar, and the same view flipped and reflected in the window. All he could care about was the maddening warmth of his touch, palming the front of his trousers.  
Vegeta grinned when he heard Goku’s breath hitch. In the sleepy silence of the half empty wagon, he could feel his lover getting hard against his hand. The reflection was tilted and bleak. His touch saw what was precluded to his eyes. Little by little, the warm outline of Goku’s cock emerged clearer and clearer against the palm of his hand.

The younger man’s breath was starting to grow heavier, huskier, his dark eyes no longer focusing on his lover’s face, but rather on his fingers, nimbly pulling the zipper down. The gray underwear surged underneath, warm and bulging like rising dough. Vegeta’s hand slipped inside his pants, indulgent for once, making him tense in his seat. Still, he wasn’t complaining, nor moving an inch.

Vegeta’s eyes were casting furtive glances around. The few people that sat in the wagon with them were sitting further down, either asleep or distracted by their phones of laptops to notice them. None of them had no idea of what was going on just a few rows of seat away. They had no idea Goku was already rock hard and throbbing under his touch, eager and willing and itching for release. His body’s response to him was as keen and honest as a boy’s.

Vegeta was more than thrilled. He was delighted. To feel his lover’s body react to his touch with such open relish was captivating, enticing. It excited him, to have his lover in the palm of his hand. The slow rubbing of his hand had them both enthralled, Goku shivering with arousal and Vegeta with his eyes glued to the pale image of him reflecting on the window.

Goku tipped his head back. Hi teeth dug into his bottom lip, forcing himself to keep his voice down. The front of his underwear was starting to grow damp. He was getting close. He was going to come just like that, form his lover’s wonderful hand down his pants, not even touching him directly. More than the feeling itself, it was the thought of Vegeta doing something like that to him that was making him edge. His name threatened to spill from the lips he was struggling to keep shut.

Then, the feeling ceased. His eyes snapped open once again, dazed like someone who’s been woken up abruptly.

Vegeta had retreated his hand. In the brief instant before he got up form his seat, Goku caught a glimpse of the bulge on the crotch of his pants.

“Going to the toilet. Wait a bit. Then follow me”, Vegeta hissed, before walking down the corridor, as casually as someone with a painful hard on could manage.

Goku shivered in anticipation, a goofy, dreamiy smile on his lips. Life was good.




Raditz let himself fall on the mattress with a sigh. His hair and skin were still damp from the shower. The window was open and a cool, gentle breeze blew in from outside. He still had a while before the chill of the night forced him to put on some clothes. He stared up at the ceiling.

He hadn’t been in old room in a long while. Given, it wasn’t his childhood bedroom. His mothers had bought a bigger house halfway through his boyhood. He found it hard to find it nostalgic. Nevertheless, something about that whole situation made him feel pensive.

The conversation he’d had with his younger brother bugged him. Despite himself, he reached for his phone, rereading the messages. His lips pursed unconsciously.

Vegeta wanted me to go with him ‘, Kakarot had written.

An old resentment gnawed at his insides, one that was deeply rooted in the relationship with his brother.

Kakarot and him never went along all that well. There was affection between them, of course, but their personalities were absolutely incompatible. The fact that there was a significant age gap between them didn’t help Raditz feeling like an harmonious brotherhood between them was impossible as they grew up. Now that they’d both grown, the time should have been ripe for those old strains to lessen. Kakarot was doing fine, in his own goofy, maddeningly careless manner. Raditz, however, couldn’t reach out for the hand his younger brother was holding out for him. There was an obstacle between him the bridge to cross: his younger brother’s acquaintance with an old acquaintance. Vegeta.

The tournament where the two had met was the last one Raditz had ever attended. His own brother had knocked him out of the competition long before he could have a chance to meet his old friend on the ring. Though, “friend” was a lot more reductive than he would ever be willing to admit. His family didn’t know about the huge crush he’d had on his classmate during college. Raditz had been his first. They’d thoroughly enjoyed each other and then, college was over, and so was whatever they’d shared in the privacy of Vegeta’s dorm room.

Despite his best efforts, the thought of what could have been had haunted and taunted him for years. What if he’d trained harder? What if he’d been a better martial artist than his brother? What if he’d gotten to Vegeta before than Kakarot had? He could have had no certainty that anything would have happened, of course. That was the single thought that had kept the old wistfulness at bay. But now…

Raditz had to loosen his grip, for fear of shattering his phone.

He’d had a slithering suspicion about his brother and his old schoolmate for months now. He’d never asked Kakarot. They didn’t talk, not like that. But now, the causality of that text message pretty much confirmed it.

Vegeta wanted me to go with him.

It was maddening, absolutely maddening. And he couldn’t tell if it was jealousy, envy or both, that ate him up inside.

He was just about to chuck his phone across the room when it vibrated into his hand. A name popped up at the top of his screen, one he hadn’t seen in quite a while.

A series of conflicting, confused -and confusing- emotions stirred up inside him. Annoyance, indignation, guilt and, finally, the inevitable resurgence of a special kind of reluctant, yet resigned, endearment. He idly mused about leaving the message unread as he was already shifting his digit on the screen to view it. He guessed it worked like an old, familiar siren’s song. If the siren in question was a fickle, erratic, endlessly recurring presence in his life, in his memory and his troubled and at times barren emotional dimension.

He stared at the words on his screen for a long while, pondering on what to do. Then, he let out a resigned sigh and did what he’d known since the start would have been his choice. Old habits were hard to kill, especially the bad ones.

I’m back in town for a while ’, he typed.

As expected, the message was left on read.

Raditz let the screen turn dark and then put the phone down, crossing his arms behind his head. He was going to let the person on the other end of the line decide what to do with that information.

Raditz couldn’t have expected that the next morning he would have woken up and found the resolve to forsake the old, bad habits. As soon as he looked out of his window the day after, whatever will he had to keep replying to those inconsistent text messages had all but disappeared from his mind.

Chapter Text

The sun was barely past its peak and its heat was making it feel like time was flowing slower. It didn’t help that there was not much left to do in the house. Gine and Seripa were pretty much done packing. They were scheduled to leave early the next morning. Seripa was doing over time at work. Gine was done storing away leftovers and ready-meals for her son and was in the bathroom dolling herself up to surprise Seripa with one last date before their departure. Raditz, slightly nauseated by the cheesy atmosphere reigning in his mothers’ house, had done all he could to distract himself. That day, he’d run out of diversions. He’d helped Gine with preparations, worked out, showered and even done a hair mask, as per his mother’s suggestion. He’d been slouching on the couch. The TV was on, but the volume was low, his eyes were on the screen door on their backyard rather than the screen.

The obnoxious ringing of the doorbell took him by surprise.

“Radi, dear, could you get that?”, Gine called out from the bathroom.

Apparently, they weren’t expecting visits. By the tone of his mother’s voice, it sounded like that she wasn’t decent.

He got up with a sigh, not without a certain reluctance.

A bronze, athletic figure stood in the doorway, casually leaning on one elbow against the doorframe. The visitor was backlit, dark against the blinding light of the summer sun reflecting off their white-stone driveway. Even so, Raditz would have recognized him anywhere, with the taunt stretch of perfect brown skin over sculpted muscle and the familiar fruity hint of his body spray wafting from his armpits, left exposed by the loose dark tank-top.

“What’s up, partner?”, the visitor greeted, nonchalantly.

“Turles.”

“In the flesh. I’m glad to see you still recognize your old friend. How long has it been?”

“Not long enough to miss you.”

“You don’t sound all too happy to see me. What’s up you butt? Or… what isn't up your butt?”

Coal-black eyes winked at him, over the rim of obnoxiously dark sunglasses.

“You’ve just proven my point”, Raditz retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Surely, there is something I must have missed. Any chance you got some time do to a little catch up?”

“You’re really trying to make me believe you swung by just for some small talk?”

“Why? Like you’ve got anything better to do”, Turles teased, meaningfully looking down at Raditz’s loose, comfy clothing.

“What if I did?”, Raditz rebuked, lips pursing slightly.

He wasn’t exactly in the mood to entertain his childhood friend’s whimsies. Turles knew him better than either of them would have cared to admit. That was exactly why he lingered on, leaning on his doorway without making a move to leave. He could feel Raditz was on edge and that was exactly what he used to amuse himself. Raditz had just given his unannounced guest a reason to stay longer.

Before he could intimate Turles to scram, his mother made her appearance, basically dancing down the stairs in a puffy, flowery dress.

“Oh, it’s you, Turles!”, Gine greeted him, with a smile. “It’s been so long!”

“Too long. But you look timeless as always.”

“Oh, you!”, Gine jokingly reprimanded him, giving him a playful swat on the shoulder.

Raditz rolled his eyes. His mother had always had a weak spot for his friend. He suspected she’d always considered him something like a son. However, that didn’t bother him nearly as much as the sultry, honeyed attitude Turles adopted when he was around her. He acted awfully charming around both his parents, actually. Even the ever watchful, stern Seripa had grown comfortable letting her guard down around him, which was an impressive accomplishment, especially for someone like him. One thing that couldn’t be said about Turles was that he was observant. He had a special people-instinct, he would always find a way to slip into their sympathies. Or, more often than not, their pants. He was as insidious as a snake and just as sinuously charming, when he wanted to be.

“You know me and I’m no liar. Who’s the lucky gal?”, Turles inquired, with a complicit wink.

I am” Gine gloated, delighted as she always was when she spoke about her spouse, “Seripa got the two of us a dream vacation for our anniversary. We’re leaving tomorrow, actually. I'm taking her out to my restaurant as a surprise. It’s too bad we don’t have time to organize dinner all together. We could still do tonight…”

Gine shot a glance at her son, herself still uncertain on what kind of feedback she was seeking. Turles caught her hesitation.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dare to intrude an intimate dinner, not even for old time’s sake. I won’t keep you either. You gals can go on enjoy your dinner, I'll be more than happy to stay here and keep an eye on your boy for you.”

The look that Raditz shot him could curdle milk, but Turles remained ufazed.

“Alright, I'll leave you boys to your catching up", Gine giggled, seemingly completely unaware of the exchange of glances between the two, "We’d be happy to have you over for dinner sometimes! Who knows, maybe we’ll manage to get both our boys to be back in town and organize a proper dinner.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m sure Raditz and I can come up with a date”, Turles proposed, a spark of malice in his eyes that only Raditz noticed.

“You’re always welcome”, Gine said with a charming smile, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “I’m off to my date. I’ll be seeing you soon, then!”

“Not too soon, hopefully”, Turles joked and opened his arms.

Gine returned his embrace all too naively for Raditz’s taste. He really didn’t like the look his friend gave him over his mother’s shoulder, where she couldn’t see him leering, taunting with his dark, knowing eyes.

“Bye, mom”, Raditz let out, a bit drily when Gine bid him goodbye, “I’ll see you later.”

“Invite him in for a drink, won’t you? Better to stay hydrated with this heat”, his parent urged him, ever so maternally thoughtful.

“I am a bit parched, actually. I’m sure Raditz won’t mind quenching my thirst.”

Turles’ smirk was basically gloating. Raditz glared at him. Gine didn’t notice. She’d merrily walked out of the door, car keys in hand and her dress elegantly swelling in the breeze behind her.

“Bye, boys!”, she waved at them from the car, on her way out of their drive through.

Sun rays got caught in the golden rim of her sunglasses, in her radiant smile and in the still vibrant auburn streaks in her hair that age had yet to stifle. The two young men followed her with their eyes as she drove away, mesmerized as they had been as kids when they looked at her. There was no way around it; Gine had been a beautiful girl back in the day and genetics seemed to have no intention of letting age show anything other than beauty as time went by.

Time might not have done much to alter Gine, but it had done something to alter the perception of her, as Raditz was sadly reminded when his friend opened his mouth.

“Out of your moms, she’s the one I regret not having seduced in time the most.”

There they were, Turles' true colors finally showing.

“God! I swear the only reason why I let this kind of behavior slide is because I know you’re a lost cause”, he groaned, grimacing.

Turles snorted. “Yeah, right… The only reason you let it slide is because you know you couldn’t take me in a fight if your life depended on it.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

They’d played fight often enough when they were younger and though they argued plenty, it had never come to fists. Raditz had done a lot of martial arts. Turles was somewhat of a gym junkie. They both liked to wage bets on the outcomes of hypothetical physical fights they were not going to have. But they had occasionally wrestled under the covers. However, while their verbal exchanges was never going to become physical, their sexual history was not going to be anything more than physical.

“So, are you going to invite me inside?”, Turles asked, still as amiably as he would have if Gine were still around, and undoubtedly just as stupidly proud of the deliberate ambiguity of his word choices.

Raditz snorted, unamused, but moved to let his friend in.

“What are you having?”

“Depends. What are you offering?”, the dark-eyes man retorted, making himself comfortable on an arm chair, his head tilted at a slight angle Raditz knew all too well.

“I was talking drinks.”

“I am pretty thirsty…”

Turles was clearly in the mood for playing, that day. Raditz responding poorly to his presence was only making the situation worse.
“Allow me to rephrase my question: which drink can I offer you that’ll get you re-hydrated and on your way the fastest?”, the long-haired man iterated, unamused.

“What are you having?”

“Something that’ll make your presence more bearable.”

“I’ll have a beer too, then”, the other winked, knowingly, and Raditz had to let himself soften up to that.

And the beer and the placid heat helped in that regard. It didn’t take long for the two of them to slip back into laid-back chatting.

“Another beer?”, Turles mused, making show of having no intention of letting the empty can dictate the end of his visit.

“Oh, still not hydrated enough to get going?”, Raditz remarked, as he tossed another can to his friend.

“Remember when you used to love having me around?”

“Slow down. ‘Love’ is a strong word.”

“That’s why I used it.”

“In that case, it’s been so long I don’t even remember”, Raditz retorted, getting himself another can as well. “Besides, I kept you around just to mess with Kakarot.”

“And mess with him I did. Little guy ended up getting quite fond of me, though.”

“Yeah, having you around backfired. Big time.”

“Yeah, I guess it did, for you. Good times… I miss how jealous you got when I started getting along with lil’ Goku.”

“Ah!”, the younger man scoffed.

“No need to get sassy, Radi. You know you were always my favorite. Remember the water melon? The one Kakarot swore you could crack open without a knife and I didn’t believe him?”

Raditz had to snort at the memory.

“That was a good day for me. I deprived Kakarot of a snack and shut you up for good about my training.”

“You sure did! I never cared much for the silly martial art school your mom enrolled you in, but that little trick was definitely something. That thing was hard as rock and you busted it right open between your thighs.”

“You like to reminisce that moment, don’t you?”, Raditz teased, arching a brow.

“You know I do”, Turles mused with a smirk that spoke the exact same teenage lasciviousness he’d experienced in that moment with all the purposeful wistfulness of the nostalgic adult he was, “You had juice dripping down your legs into your shorts and I remember being unable to think of anything other than how sweet you would have tasted if I’d licked along the trail of those sweet, pink droplets.”

“You were depraved from a very young age.”

“You could say that, or you could say I was old enough to know what I wanted.”

“Not old enough to know how to get it”, Raditz mocked him.

“I got it soon enough”, Turles pointed out.

If he was offended, he masked it well.

“Not that year, you didn’t. You started visibly sweating right after seeing me do that. Then, you stopped showing up at our place and avoided me for months.”

“Probably too embarrassed to show up after jacking off to you almost every night.”

“Not too embarrassed to admit it anymore, I see”, Raditz noted, a slightly condescending expression on his face.

“I’ve said and done worse with you since then, haven’t I, sweet cakes?”

“Careful, Turles. It could be your head I crush between my thighs next.”

“Joke’s on you”, Turles winked at him, “Having my head between your thighs doesn’t sound like a bad way to go.”

Alcohol might have been welcome lubricant to their conversation but being together was as natural as drinking water to them. Suddenly, the months they’d spent apart didn’t matter as much. As always, neither did the maturity that was to be expected from someone of Turles’ age, especially when said mature adult decided to disregard expectations.

“So, are you excited that daddy is back into town?”

As always, Raditz grimaced. Disregarding the frequency with which that term occurred in his browsing history, he’d always felt his friend was all too liberal with the word ‘daddy’.

“Ugh. I would ask but I’m not sure I even want you make that more explicit.”

“I meant daddy ‘dock. But, as they say, it’s an honor to be nominated”, Turles replied, winking at him.

“I told you a thousand times. Bardock is not my dad. He’s no one’s dad. He’s just my brother’s sperm donor. I know he’s been a friend of mom’s ever since they were back in high school, but neither of us actually got to know him until a few years ago, when he came back from his research trip abroad.”

“That’s very lucky for you, if you ask me.”

“How so?”

“Come on now, Radi, you have eyes! He’s a hunk. He’s built like a statue, keeps in shape even though his job is mundane as shit, and, honestly, he ages like fine wine. Plus, as you said, no biological link to either of your mothers and he’s never been around to be an actual father figure. Good thing he’s not your dad, ‘cause he could definitely be your daddy.”

“You missed the best part. He’s married.”

“So? Most daddies are, Raditz”, the other replied with a shrug, making his friend cringe at the word once more. “That never stopped anyone straying from the conjugal bed, has it?”

“You’ve seen his husband too, right? There is no way he’d cheat on someone like Toma.”

“So they’re both extremely hot. What about it? You could have them both. All the better, don’t you think?”

“My God, you’re gross.”

“As if you’re in any position to tell me anything.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, you didn’t say you haven’t thought about getting into daddy’s pants…”, his friend reminded him, shooting him a lewd look over the rim of his beer can.

“He’s not my dad, Turles. And, please, stop calling him that!”

“You’re still not denying it”, the dark-skinned man teased, “But fair enough. If you’re not gonna hit that, I will.”

Raditz took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, where tension was rapidly accumulating.  Something in Turles’ tone was telling him his friend was not entirely joking when he said he was going after Bardock. He couldn’t tell if Turles was trying to make him jealous or just annoy him. Whichever his the case, it was definitely way too hot that day for him to endure his friend’s nonsense.
“I swear I don’t know why I still keep up with you.”

“We both know why you do, Radi”, Turles purred, maliciously, “Speaking of which… Why didn’t you come over yesterday night.”

Raditz opened one of his eyes, feeling the other’s foot slowly rub against his ankle. That boldness was both endearing and infuriating to him.

“Maybe I had better things to do.”

“Better than doing me?”, Turles snickered, “I doubt that.”

“Do you have nothing better to do than get in my pants again?”

“I happen to have gotten my hands on some really good weed. My neighbors are out of town for a couple weeks and the streetlights got smashed by some little punk with a sling, so it’s really dark out there.”

“Scared of the dark, Turles?”, Raditz mocked him.

“On the contrary. I would have rolled us a couple joints and we could have climbed onto their balcony and fucked in their whirlpool. Nice and slow, with the bubbles on and some ice-cold beer to sip as we watch the stars. Could have been real nice.”

“Sounds really romantic. Were you going to pop the question before or after getting me drunk and high enough to stick it in my ass?”, the youth commented, drily, dispassionately watching the other’s foot rub along his calf.

“You sound awfully sarcastic.”

“How observant!”

“I’m beginning to think you might already have something up your butt. You haven blowing me off for weeks, lately.”

“Maybe because you’re literally out to fuck my entire family and never pass any occasion to remind me of it.”

“Mmh. Should I have extended my invite to your little brother instead? By what I gathered, he might like it.”

Raditz scoffed, harshly kicking his friend’s foot away in annoyance. He averted his gaze, but he knew without having to look that piercing obsidian eyes were studying him, intensely. He’d been sarcastic about it before but, unfortunately for him, Turles was actually very observant. To him, Raditz was like an open book and Raditz hated it.

“I see what the problem is”, the dark-skinned man said, sitting back into the chair, staring at him.

“That ninety-nine percent of your comments about any of my attractive acquaintances are extremely inappropriate?”

“No. You’re still sulking because lil’  Kakarot scored with the one that got away.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Look, I get it. Vegeta’s a good catch, there’s no point in denying it. I would be pissed too if someone snatched him away from right under my nose. To be honest, though, I’m glad he wasn’t interested in you as he is in your brother”, he carried on, ignoring the death glare Raditz shot his way, “Because I was your consolation prize. And I’m confident I did a pretty good job at that.”

He winked. Raditz rolled his eyes.

“Your problem, Radi”, Turles continued, seemingly strangely serious “is that you pine for too long instead of reaching out and getting what you want.”

“Save it, Turles! I’m not about to get relationship advice from you, of all people!”

“Who said anything about “relationships”? I’m just trying to help you get laid!”

“And you’ve been awfully invested in how often I drop my pants, no doubt. That’s probably why you keep trying to get inside them. Only when you have nothing better to do, obviously”, the taller man retorted, drily.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Radi! You are one of my favorite things to do.”

“Get your head our of the gutter, asshole”, Raditz scoffed, taking another sip of his beer, “What I meant to say is that you only come around when you’re bored.”

Turles gave a nonchalant shrug.

“What can I say, you got me! Things have been pretty boring lately… especially since you decided to stop accepting my very generous invitations.”

“I’ve had better to do”, Raditz retorted, making the beer at the bottom of the can swirl around idly.

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

This time it was Raditz’s turn to shrug. He wasn’t in about to satisfy his friend’s curiosity, even if it meant proving him wrong. Unfortunately, his secret wasn’t fated to be his own for much longer. When he saw Turles’ eyes shift from him and then widen, looking at something behind him, he remembered the curtains on the backyard window were still drawn back to the sides.

“Actually, scratch all that. Looks like you don’t have want for entertainment, after all…”, Turles uttered, a victorious smirk forming on his lips.

Raditz cursed himself mentally. He didn’t need to turn around to know what his friend had see in his backyard, but he did anyway.
Outside, unaware of being observed, the strapping young man continued to do what Gine and Seripa had paid him to do, squatting at the edge of the pool, hosing down the filters. He appeared seemingly unbothered by the heat, working with slow, determined scrupulousness. His shirt had been ditched hours before. Droplets of water glimmered under the rays of the beating sun, sweat beading along the creases of defined, bulging muscles. He wore old, worn out shorts and a pair of sandals held together by tape. His mop of dark, bushy hair, clearly in need of a haircut, fell slightly too long on his shoulders, but that did nothing but enhance his rough charm. When he turned slightly to reach for the water bottle, sunlight got caught in the green gemstones he kept hung on leather strings around his neck, the only seemingly personal touch to his look alongside the thick bands of interwoven leather strands he wore around his wrists.

When Raditz had seen him from his parents’ window, it had taken him a couple seconds before figuring out who he was, since the boy had changed an awful lot ever since he’d last seen him, ten years before, when he and his father had moved out of town. Time had sculpted his features, hardening them into a stern scowl, so different from the shy, dodgy look he remembered from his childhood. Age had filled out his figure, tan skin stretching over taunt muscle, touch, dark hair running up his midriff and hiding in the curve of his armpits. However, the old pale scar that cutting across his dark, bushy eyebrow made him unmistakably recognizable.

“Is that who I think it is?”, Turles asked, sounding and looking as if in total awe.

“If you’re thinking it’s the older kid that used to constantly start beef with my little brother on the playground, then you’ve guessed right.”

“Is that the son of that grumpy old man that cracked more beer bottles then smiles… what was his name?”

“Paragas.”

“Yeah, that’s him! Paragas’ kid, the one that used to mop the floor with your little brother’s butt. And yours too when you tried to step in.”

“You and I have different memories of our days in the playground”, Raditz replied, drily. “But yes, that’s him. Broly.”

“Broly, huh. The kid grew up fine…”

Raditz didn’t reply, eyes fixed on the object of their admiration. The vision out of the window spoke for itself.

“How come you didn’t bring up the fact that your brother’s former bully is currently working shirtless in your backyard?”, Turles insinuated, his tone a snicker away from being scornful, “Or did you just casually forgot to mention it?”

His mothers had told him something about how Brolly was benefitting more than just financially from getting some money from part-time jobs around the neighborhood, since the situation at his place wasn’t great, apparently. But Turles wouldn’t have been interested in any of that, if not for using it to his advantage, which was clearly his intention. Raditz, on his part, was just as uninterested in gossip as he was in having any form of leverage over his childhood friend, given the sudden, unexpected eventuality that Turles had any intention of obstructing him.

“I didn’t think it would be something of interest to you.”

“Did I forget to mention I like dick as much as you do?”, Turles retorted, sarcastically.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I have half a mind to do the honors and go out there and ask if he cares for a sip of beer-“

Raditz shot up before the other could make the move to get up from the armchair.

“Oh no, you don’t”, he declared, peremptory.

Turles shot him a long, knowing stare. He made a show of hesitating in front of his friend’s sudden outburst just to allow a smirk to crack his cool demeanor. He got up, slowly, deliberately.

“Oh yeah?”

Raditz knew the look that was slowly creeping onto his friend’s face all too well. Devious and inflammatory. His grin was as slick as his sudden feint, when he sprinted to get past him. Raditz was quick to bolt after him and halt him before he could cross the kitchen.
“What, can’t I even take a peak at your brand new favorite time killer?”, Turles persisted, “If I didn’t know you any better, I would say you have been hogging the good stuff all for yourself. Friendship is all about sharing, you know.”

“Maybe I don’t care for friendship right now”, Raditz rebuked. “Maybe I’d rather you kept keeping out of my business, like you’ve been doing lately.”

“Oh, so you’re trying to make me jealous now, is it what this is about now?”

Turles ducked under his friend’s arm and strode into the kitchen and into the dining room. Raditz was starting to get seriously irked by his obstinate persistence.

“Get your head out of your own ass, Turles.”

“I did, I’m trying to sneak a peak at what you’re trying to get into yours-“

Raditz grabbed a hold of his friend’s shoulder and turned him around, stepping up right into his face. The few inches in height he had on him turned extremely helpful in that circumstance.

“Don’t. Push. It.”

For once, Turles looked genuinely taken aback. However, that too lasted very shortly.

“Is this your way of telling me to “back off”, Radi?”, he inquired with an honeyed smile. “You’re acting like you did when we were children and I tried to play with your favorite toys.”

“Funny you say that, because I have found a new plaything, and you look like you’re the jealous one.”

“I don’t see why I should be, given there isn’t going to be much playing for you to do, sadly.”

“Are you saying I couldn’t have him if I wanted to?”, Raditz uttered, slowly, feeling a sort of tension strangely akin to the thrill of a challenge.

He knew his friend well enough to know that a challenge was exactly what he was being presented. Turles was pressing closer, a move that would have looked confrontational in any other circumstance. Though he was shorter than him, Turles’ close proximity felt extremely physical. To Raditz, it was almost like he was being shoved backwards and pulled forth at the same time. And the look in Turles’s coal-black eyes told him the fucker knew exactly what he was doing to him.

“Oh no, Radi. A handsome boy like you could have anyone he wanted. And you know it”, Turles purred, “What I’m saying is… I’m going to get to him first.”

“I’d like to see you try. Too bad I’m not inviting you over.”

“I don’t think I need an invitation to come visit my buddy ol’ pal”, Turles retorted, head tilted to the side, a lurid smirk bending his lips, “Who knows. Maybe it’ll be my lawn the one he mows next.”

Chapter Text

So it was on. It was so on.

Both Turles and Raditz gave it their all to overshadow the other in the seduction game. They gave their best as well as their worst. Raditz dug deep into his closet to carefully select the clothing items that best flattered his form, paying particular attention to shorts that highlighted his thighs and rear. Turles, on his part, seldom wore anything that didn’t flatter, so his attention was focused on studying their prey. The gym junkie showed up at his old friend’s place every day, progressively bothering less and less to come up with some blatantly fake excuse to be there. Soon enough they ceased to care about keeping up with useless pretenses. They were both out to get him, and the close proximity with one another made them all the more keen to make an impression.

“Oh, tighter shorts today?”, Turles would tease him when he greeted him at the door and the exotic scent of his ever daring fragrance choices reached his nostrils.

“New body spray? Do you think that’ll be effective?”

”See, the difference between you and I is… You can get by just fine lounging pretty around the pool, whereas I prefer to play in close quarters”, Turles would purr, walking past him into his house.

Their aim might have been to seduce the pool boy, but Raditz noticed his friend never missed the chance to give him a taste of his methods, swaying his hips when he walked ahead.

Raditz tried not to mind his friend’s constant flirting. He wouldn’t put it past Turles to distract him as part of a tactic to get into Broly’s pants first. His friend had already secretly stalked their prey on his own, walking with his to and from his house. He wasn’t the only one with an ace in the hole. Raditz, on his part, had the advantage of being constantly at the house and having the task of overseeing the pool boy’s work. The fact that his mothers had entrusted the young man with some heavier work in their backyard, consented Raditz to spend a lot more time with his brother’s old bully. The time of the year made the job all the more taxing due to the scorching heat, which made Broly both very impatient, despite his usual self-possession, as well as very thirsty. And Raditz was all too willing to offer the boy a drink. Or keep him company outside, lounging by the pool, with his hair in a bun and that one pair of sunglasses that really flattered his face.

Despite their best efforts, however, the results were simply underwhelming.

Initially, Broly didn’t seem to respond all that well to the sudden increase in the attentions he was getting. The harder they seemed to try, the more Broly seemed to grow timid and evasive, to the point where the colors of irritation started to show. As much as dark scowls objectively made the young man all the more handsome, the worsening of his mood prompted them both to lay off a little. Later, when they’d decided to take turns, he seemed not to respond much at all. What made him all the harder to read was the fact that he rarely spoke and, even when he did, he was concise, almost monosyllabic. They soon started to wonder whether no negative response meant a good response.

“Do you think he might just not be into guys?”, Raditz finally wondered out loud, staring at the seemingly indifferent Broly from the distance.

“Oh no, he is.”

“You sound awfully sure about that.”

“I have the right to be”, Turles informed him, making a show of casually examining his nails, “I made him pop a boner.”

“Oh, please, you did not! If you did, I would have noticed.”

“I wasn’t here”, Turles confessed, edging closer to his friend and smirking obnoxiously, “I just happened to be jogging on the same route he walks in the morning to get to your place. I sad hi to him, offered to walk a part of the way with him, noticed my shoe was untied, bent down to tie it up and when I turned around…”

The dark-skinned man made an obscene gesture to conclude his story. Raditz scoffed, unimpressed.

“So what, it's not like you have never had an unprovoked, spontaneous boner from time to time. It doesn’t mean anything and you know better than that.”

Raditz could feel his friend’s eyes looking him over with their usual honeyed, almost intrusive sharpness.

“Maybe…”, Turles purred, his mouth a breath away from his friend’s rapidly reddening ear, “But I think you’re only saying that because I just made you pop a boner too.”

“It’s this damn perfume, damn you. And you know it well”, Raditz spat between his teeth.

Turles burst out laughing, patting his friend on the back in a manner mean to be jovial but didn’t conceal his telling, lingering touch.
“I have your watermelon and you have my passion fruit body spray, huh?”

Raditz looked away. That game was starting to get dangerous.


The only thing more infuriating than Broly’s indifference to their best efforts, was their side effects. For starters, the game was lasting a bit too long for Raditz’ tastes; there was only so much time he had before his mothers returned from their vacation. Not too mention the longer the game drew out, the harder the tension was on his nerves, the higher frustration grew. Though the flirting had started out as a silly challenge, holding out for an ever eluding retribution was taking its toll, not so much on Turles, who had a fuck-buddy downtown. And the fact that his friend more often than not used his favorite fragrance not really to mask as much as to highlight the scent of sex and sweat wafting off of him wasn’t helping Raditz feeling any more relaxed. That was part of the reason why his usual spot by the pool had slowly become a spot in the pool, in hopes the water would help him cool off. And in hopes that his new skin-tight swimsuit would finally attract the attention he was seeking. As it soon turned out, not even sweetening the deal with the offer of a fruity cocktail was enough to sway the pool boy.

That day, Raditz had felt a slight prick of excitement when he’d thought the pool boy’s gaze had lingered on him a second longer than usual. But the result had been the same. Broly dismissed the invitation to join him in the pool with a hand gesture and made his way to the tool shack at the back of the garden, where he would undoubtedly busied himself for a while fixing up the new shelves.
Raditz let out a sigh, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the pool, letting his feet dangle in the cool water. It was a welcome balm for the heat of sunlight and the how wash of embarrassment that was slowly crawling over him. He knew his friend was watching him from the dining room window, undoubtedly amused by his umpteenth failed attempt. It didn’t take long before he decided to make an appearance.

“So, I saw him snob your so lovingly prepped cocktail”, Turles noted, stepping outside the house.

He had already taken his shirt off and swung it casually over his shoulder. The hem of a pair of swimming trunks peaked out from underneath his shorts. Broly’s disappearance had cheated him out of his turn at the pool. No doubt he’d decided to get his kick by teasing him. That would explain his slow, wanton pacing around the pool.

“I think this might be overdoing it”, Raditz let out, sighing again after a pause.

“Not really, you didn’t even put in those fancy little umbrellas they use in beach bars”, the older man noted,  crouching down to examine the cocktail that had been left standing at the edge of the pool.

“I wasn’t talking about that. And don’t touch it, it’s not for you!”

“A’ight”, Turles acknowledged, backing away from the glass with his hands raised in a slightly dramatic fashion. “Stuck up much?”

Raditz glared at him. There was a hint of a smirk on his friend’s face. He’d known Turles long enough to be able to figure out when he was putting on a show. And when he picked an opportunity to flex without making it look like he did it on purpose to show off. Raditz hated himself for staring even fully knowing what his friend was doing.

They might have been out to get Broly and be both ambitious enough to actually want to successfully seduce him, but Turles just wasn’t the type to shy away from a consolation prize on the side. And Raditz was starting to feel less and less proud once his companion started taking off the rest of his clothes, stripping down to a pair of quite tight black and purple swimming trunks. The material adhered complicity to the man’s body, obscenely flattering the sculpted roundness of his rear and the bulging on his front. That bastard had truly been blessed with a supple, vigorous built as well as a slender figure. He was lean and strong and looked awfully comfortable in his own skin and had any right to be; rich, brown perfection tightly-stretched over chiseled, sturdy muscle. There was not a single imperfection on him, not one sun spot, nor pimple, nor scar, nothing. It was maddening, both for the envious and the admirer. And Raditz had never quite belonged to the former type.

Turles and him had been friend long enough to be something like brothers, for certain aspects. As it often happened between brothers, appreciation was voiced in sneering gibes and teasing remarks.

“Your swimsuits are starting to look tighter and tighter everyday. Are you trying to steal my spotlight?”

“More like sharing it. Not that I think I couldn’t steal it, of course”, he replied, giving his friend a little twirl for demonstration, “Friendship is all about sharing. And we’re good friends. Aren’t we?”

Raditz’ eyes narrowed slightly, following his friend’s every move as he sat at the edge of the pool, on the side opposite to him.

“You are a terrible friend”, he uttered, slowly.

“How so?”, Turles let out, in something dangerously closer to a purr than a murmur, as he slowly lowered himself into the water, arms resting on the edge.

“I think you know how.”

“Is it because I’m gonna get to that kid first?“

The look Turles was shooting Raditz from the opposite edge of the pool was absolutely inflammatory. The muscles in his shoulders and neck bulged when he tipped his head slightly to the side. For once, Raditz wasn’t breaking eye contact.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Don’t embarrass yourself, Radi. We both now how this is gonna end.”

Something about the lingering gaze of sharp, obsidian eyes it sound like they weren’t talking about Broly anymore.

“Do we?”

Oh, I think we do.”

The way with which Turles drew out his words confirmed Raditz’s suspicions. After that, silence sat heavily between them. For a while, the birds and their eyes were the only ones talking. Then, the stillness of the pool was broken, rippling with the stifled, rumbling sound of Raditz’s chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”, Turles wondered, tilting his head to the side.

“You’re such a cocksure bastard.”

“You love it.”

“You really think playing dress up and using girly perfumes is going to get you anywhere with anybody, don’t you?”

“You’re the one to talk”, Turles teased, shooting him a sardonic look. “I never saw you complain. Nor do I see Broly all over you and your skimpy slips and your fruity cocktails.”

“I don’t see you in a rush to join him in that shack either”, Raditz retorted, cunningly, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. “Seems to me you’re quite enjoying the view.”

“So what if I do?”, Turles countered with a smile.

“Sucks to be you, I guess. I’m saving all of this for someone else.”

Raditz’s physique might have had less definition, but he wasn’t second to Turles when it came to raw bulk. Being stocky where is friend was slender meant he was meatier where his friend was wiry, which he demonstrated eloquently by making his pecs flex and bounce.

Turles didn’t bother to mask his appreciation, but didn’t let it hinder him from rebuking either.

“What if I went ahead and joined our little friend in the shack, then?”

Raditz saw a chance and decided to take it. He was getting sick and tired of that back and forth.

“In that case you’re gonna have to get past me”, he declared, without hesitation.

“…Really, Radi?”, his friend scoffed, sarcastically.

“Did that sound like a joke to you?”

Raditz’s head cocked backwards a bit, challenging. Turles seemed to look him over. Then, after a long, tense pause, pushed himself off the edge of the pool and made his way over to the other side. When he was close, Raditz pushed himself off the edge, stepping up to face his friend. He wasn’t entirely indignation and annoyance that made him feel like he was reverberating with electricity. Frustration was edging him towards something other than confrontation.

The challenge had spurred them to constantly best the other, go bigger, bolder. Proximity had fired their rivalry. Rivalry had fired something else, something they were all too willing to get overcome by. They stared each other down, edging closer and closer to each other’s face.

“Are you really going to stand in my way?”, Turles husked, his onyx eyes captivating his gaze from underneath dark, thick eyelashes.
“Are you gonna go through with screwing me over on this one?”

“You were the one that started this. You can’t be mad at me for trying to finish it first.”

“I can be, if you steal my toys from right under my nose. What would you rather me think of you, that you’re a good flirt and a bad friend or the other way round?”

“Depends. Which one is getting you hard right now?”, Turles let out in a hiss.

Raditz stifled a grunt when Turles pressed forth with his hips. He saw a smirk spread across his face, caramel lips stretching over white, perfect teeth.

“Just as I thought”, he murmured, like honey. “Both.”

“You are just the worst brand of dick…”

“I’m your favorite brand of dick.”

Turles’ hand slithered along his thigh. Raditz sucked in air between his teeth when it finally brushed over his crotch.

“Mmh… this is familiar.”

“I bet!”, Raditz mocked.

Humor was the only weapon he had to match his friend’s infuriating nonchalance.

“I remember we used to play fight in the public pool and wrestle to see which one of us would go down first.”

“I remember. It made everyone around pretty annoyed.”

“Good thing there’s no one around right now”, Turles carried on, pushing forth with his entire body.

The water in the pool was cool, yet that didn’t help Raditz feeling any less heated when his friend had successfully driven him with his back against the edge of the pool. Raditz was officially trapped between smooth tiles and the animalistic pull of his friend’s devious, sugared, cunning, smirk.

“We should go inside-“

“Like being out here isn’t what’s turning you on.”

“If you’re doing this to make a scene, I swear to God-“, Raditz let out in a whisper.

“He won’t pay attention. He’s hard at work. And you, pretty boy, better be hard for me.”

“You fucking wish, you-“

A hissing sound escaped Raditz’s throat. Turles’ hand groped and stroked with way too much licentiousness for that time of the day.

Fffffuck…”

“Oh yeah, sounds like it’s for me alright”, Turles purred, leaning in close to drag his tongue along his friend’s neck.

He smirked when he felt Raditz tense and can’t his hips towards him, eagerly. He knew just what he liked.

“What are we even doing?”, Raditz let out, his voice airy, husky. “Are we really fighting over this kid?”

“We’re not fighting. We’re just playing, that’s all”, Turles responded, his tone rich with a sultry heaviness of its own, “You know I love playing with you…”

“I know you love playing games.”

“Isn’t all this been a game, Radi? All this dressing up and showing off to see which one of us would get to the hot pool boy first… It’s been fun. But you’re my favorite game.”

A game. That was all that it was to Turles. Raditz knew it and nevertheless disregarded that superficiality with unforgivable ease when it was most convenient. Turles had told him he pined for too long instead of getting what he wanted. Right there and then, his body wanted to play and Raditz was willing to break all the rules if it meant relief, at long last. Convenient indeed that his friend was by his side, happy to relieve him. If the firm touch of strong hands groping Raditz’s rear as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the pool again was any valid indication of good will, then Turles was definitely more than happy to lend a helping hand. And, by the way he looked at his friend, wetting his lips, even something more than a hand.

“This has been drawing out quite long by now, hasn’t it? How long since you’ve got some, mmh?”, Turles murmured.

“Too long”, Raditz admitted, the notes of his hunger rumbling low in his tone.

“Such a shame, to let all of this go to waste. Don’t you think?”, Turles purred, a lusty twinkle in his eye.

“And you hate waste, don’t you?”, Raditz teased, in one last half-hearted attempt to make himself look detached from the situation, which was a difficult feat, with Turles looking at him the way he did as he nudged his knees apart and moved between his legs.
The increasing tightness of his slips made pretenses all the more useless. The synthetic fabric left little room for imagination, adhering to the burgeoning hardness that was slowly engrossing all their attention.

Hate it”, Turles remarked, hands running along his chiseled thighs.

Raditz was biting his lip, feeling himself growing firmer and firmer under his friend’s gaze.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

Turles quirked an eyebrow at him, meaningfully, cocking his head slightly to the side. His hands were hooked on the edge of his swimsuit. Then, he pulled it down. Raditz’s sex sprung free bobbing in front of the other’s face. He sucked in hair between his teeth, sharply, when smooth, lush lips deposited a burning kiss against his flushed tip.

“I’m going to give some love to this lonely cock of yours”, Turles husked hotly along his shaft, his breath heating up the places his tongue was wetting, “This lovely, lovely cock of yours…”

“You always did… did know how to use that… mmh… that filthy mouth- nhh…”, Raditz attempts to speak were stifled when his friend sunk down on him, swallowing around his girth.

He threw his head back, biting his lips to mute the groans threatening to spill from them. He was embarrassingly hard and awfully pent up. And Turles was too damned good at what he was doing. Raditz had to look away not to keen too fast and focus instead on the white summer clouds placidly floating away in the sky. Even that was little help. What his friend was doing with his tongue and throat was simply delicious. Raditz was hungry for it. He might have been playing games with Turles, flirting with his mothers’ pool boy might have been fun, but days were passing by and sexual tension had been rising unresolved. Between Broly working shirtless in his backyard and his childhood friend around wearing skimpy clothes, maddeningly sweet fragrances and that infuriating, taunting, sexy smirk of his… blood ran hot. His blood had been running hot for a while now.

“Damn, Radi, you really needed this, don’t you?”, Turles panted, shooting his friend a provoking look.

“Don’t you fucking play games with me right now”, was the harsh response, hissed through gritted teeth.

If Turles hadn’t been tipped off by the throbbing and leaking of his friend’s shaft, the brash response made it all too clear just how close Raditz was. A brazen, sardonic smirk bent his moist lips.

“Finish me off”, Raditz demanding in a tone that was commanding in its intention, yet strangled and pleading in its sound.

“My, my… how indecent! But alright, anything for a friend”, the other teased, his hand wrapping around the pulsing erection and pumping it with increasing alacrity, “But you owe me a cocktail too for this one.”

When Raditz finally brought himself to look down, he saw what Turles had really meant. His jaws were open a breath away from the head of his sex, goading, waiting. He felt his balls tighten. The motion of Turles’ hand was fast enough to make the other’s head spin. He wasn’t going to last long with his friend jerking him off like that. When Turles’ lips wrapped encouragingly around the head of his cock and his brazen tongue licked around it, it was over. Raidtz finally climaxed into is friend’s generous mouth with a strangled groan. As his body released spurt after spurt, he could feel the vibration of the other’s chuckle around his shaft as he swallowed around him. He himself had a faint smile upon his lips as he let himself lay back, steading his breath. When his friend lifted his face from his crotch, he looked down, to check on the mess. Turles was looking back at him, smirking as if proudly showing off the stray jets of pearly liquid that decorated his left cheek.

“Shaken, not stirred”, Turles joked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Ugh…”, Raditz rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The visual of Turles licking his come off his hand would have been a lot more interesting if his friend would have kept his stupid comments for himself. The gym-junkie looked awfully pleased.

“That was a mouthful.”

“Oh, shut it…”, Raditz exhaled, reaching downwards to tuck his softening length back into his swimsuit.

“I imagined you’d be pent up, Radi, but not this much!”

“You were trying to work me up for this, weren’t you?”

“Was I? I thought we were trying to get into your pool boy’s pants.”

“Are we still doing that? Before getting my cock in your mouth you didn’t sound serious about this game”, Raditz insinuated, quirking a brow, “Face it, Turles, it’s not working. He’s obviously not interested.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that…”

Raditz noticed his friend was looking past him and turned to follow his gaze. Behind them, Broly was still out of sight, probably still in his mothers’ tool shack piling up the spare stepping stones.

“What are you looking at now? Are you seeing things?”

“He was watching us.”

What?”

Raditz turned to the shack again, but saw nothing that could prove his friend’s assertion.

Everything was still, there seemed to be no sign of life in the shack. Then, he realized; nothing was moving. He couldn’t hear the sounds of Broly working anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I saw him sneaking peaks from the windows as I was going down on you.”

“So you decided to give him a show”, Raditz decried him with a glare of ill-veiled disdain.

“Don’t look so mad, sharpshooter! I think I just drove our boy into a corner, one that’s very convenient for us…”

“Turles-”

“You can thank me once that guy comes out that shack and heads directly for the water hose”, the other interrupted him, shooting him a sharp look.

His cocksureness had the side effect to make Raditz feel a pricking of childish excitement, for which he felt all the more foolish. He was going to rebuke, but before he could, Turles’ prediction came true. Broly exited the shack, somewhat awkwardly. Raditz didn’t miss the quick glance he shot their way, nor the uncharacteristic rush in his step, nor the tension in his shoulders and his clenched fists. It was slight, almost enough to be missed, but it was definitely there; guilt.

“Aaaand… there it is”, Turles whispered, victoriously, like a hunter witnessing a prey fall into his trap, when Broly headed for the water hose as he had predicted.

“This might not mean anything.”

“Oh no, it definitely does. It means he was definitely jacking it in there.”

Raditz clenched his jaw, eyes fixed on the spot in the garden where Broly had disappeared into. He didn’t need to hear the noise of the hose going off in the distance to be sure his friend had a valid point. He just hated that Turles was always right, absolutely hated it. He turned his gaze to his friend to see him looking triumphant and mischievous, with his lidded stare and that wily, devious smirk back on his lips. Raditz knew all to well what it meant.

The game was back on.

Chapter Text

Shortly after leaving Raditz's place, Turles was walking on cloud nine. The feeling of cool water on his skin in the drowsy, lenient heat of the early evening was pleasant as he walked down the empty street.

His friend hadn’t waited for him to be completely dried up from their dip in the pool before unceremoniously urging him out of the house. It didn’t bother him. That rush had actually played in his favor, since his friend had forgotten to have him pick up his bike from his mothers’ garage. Turles hadn’t reminded him. That little slip up had already given him an excellent excuse to be back at his friend’s place the very next day. He had to smirk to himself at the thought. His only grievance was that he had left his water bottle with his bike and he had nothing to soothe his parched mouth except for the lingering essence of his friend that still clung to his tastebuds. It didn’t bother him, neither did having to get back home on his own two legs. The memory of what had just transpired between them elated him and taking a long, nostalgic evening walk in the suburbs might just have been what he needed to keep elation from straining the fabric of his shorts. Getting Raditz off had thrilled him, even if the gesture hadn’t been reciprocated, and he had all the intention to indulge in that memory to get his own release as soon as he got home.

Lost in his own train of thought, he soon  found himself strolling mindlessly around block after block of neat-looking houses and prim and proper lawns. Folks that kept their grass green and luxuriant during such an unforgiving summer sure had money to throw around. As for Turles, he’d rather invest in a whole other type of grass and generally felt very confident about getting his money’s worth. He took a mental note to ring up his dealer for a restock once that whole ordeal with Raditz and Broly was over. Before Gine and Seripa’s return would put an end to their game, he counted on inviting at least one of them to smoke that joint in his neighbour’s tacky balcony whirlpool. If luck assisted him, maybe even both of them.

He was grinning like an idiot when he turned the corner and was confronted with a very interesting sight. A small rental truck was parked outside one of the biggest, nicest houses on the block.

At first glance, Turles assessed that the habitation had two floors, an attic and, judging by a couple of ground-level windows, even an underground floor. The building was tastefully asymmetrical. The architect seemed to have had a predilection for square shapes. The structure of the house was very geometrical without looking too simple or boring for it. Habitants on that side of the block had the fortune of facing south, so they got to see the sun all day long. Unsurprisingly, the windows were very large and outmatched the concrete wall in surface extension by far. The tinted glass a lot of room for the imagination, though Turles would have been ready to bet there was a solarium up there behind them or, as he secretly hoped, a bedroom or, better yet, a bathroom (he had always thought the idea very kinky). The facade was tinted with a very soft sand colour and looked like it had been newly painted. The front lawn was cut in half by the entry walkway and still looked very bare, with only a couple of scrawny, newly-planted shrubs in the proximity of the windows. The white stone paving both the path to the front door and the path to the two-door garage must have been recently cleaned with a pressure washer, since it was untainted by dust, dirt and tiremarks. 

It was clear that the house had been only recently restructured and even more recently inhabited. Whoever was currently moving in their prized possessions, was very much still in the middle of their job and had left the front door open. The sidewalk in front of the entry pathway was cluttered with carefully stacked boxes, most very obnoxiously labeled “fragile” with aggressively colorful stickers. Judging by the almost stern neatness of its exterior, its new owners certainly weren’t a family with children. 

Turles didn’t need to wonder a long time to find out the identity of the lucky new owner of the house. Someone he knew very well emerged from the building, walking with purpose towards the boxes. If Turles hadn’t known any better, he would have mistaken him for a contracted mover. Few people would have guessed that behind tanned, bulging muscle, worn-out navy cargo shorts and a tight fitting tank top hid a nationally renown bioengineer, a revolutionary in the field, no less. Turles had seen his old acquaintance’s picture and his name on more than a couple of scientific articles during the last couple years. He had even taken a mild interest in his work, even though his interest hadn’t really extended past physical education and sport sciences in a long while. If there were a man that could have gotten Turles to pick up his studies again that was the deceivingly hot brainiac currently hard at work with his boxes.

The man’s hair was a bit longer and wilder than Turles remembered, the day-old stubble donning his square jawline slightly more unkempt, but there was no mistaking him. Time had aged him well, visibly but not gracelessly. The muscular bulk of his physique was chiseled by exercise and, here and there, charming imperfections. Turles didn’t miss the visible shadow of veins showing on the back of his knee and powerful calves, the first hints of wrinkles at the side of his eyes and on his forehead, where his usual frown had now indefinitely sculpted its stern lines. There was a faint hint of silver in his slight sideburns and one of his bushy brows was cut in half by a light, decisively alluring scar. Overall, aging had done anything but stifle his raw, rough charm.

“Well well well, I had heard you were back in town but I didn’t imagine I would meet you so soon”, Turles mellifluously greeted.

Bardock hadn’t noticed him approach and looked stunned when he turned to face him. The amazement painting his handsome features was soon dimmed by a shade of annoyance.

“Turles”, the older man stated, drily, quickly overcoming his surprise. 

“Long time no see, Professor”, the younger of the two added, graciously extending his right hand in salute.

Bumping into the older man was an incredible stroke of luck. Despite the barely stifled spark of interest in his eyes, Bardock didn’t seem to share the feeling. Much like a lot of social interactions in the former professor’s life - as Turles guessed - his unannounced appearance had been an inconvenience. Bardock wasn’t the kind of man to conceal that sort of sentiment. Despite himself, he wasn’t all too good at hiding his emotions, even though he put up a very convincing surly, unsociable exterior. 

“No one’s called me that in a long time”, Bardock clarified, reluctantly accepting the handshake.

“Too bad. You were an excellent teacher. I remember your classes very fondly”, Turles suggested, giving the other’s hand a slight meaningful squeeze.

Unlike Gine, Bardock knew him well enough to see past his polite demeanor and winced slightly. Turles couldn’t blame him. He had given the older man more than a taste of his ambiguous deviousness back when he was enrolled in his classes years before. Bardock had been new to teaching when Turles had pursued his interest in biochemistry and made his teaching experience difficult, to say the least. 

“I just hope I wasn’t the one that drove you from teaching.”

“Far from it. As a student, you showed a lot of promise. It was disappointing hearing you chose not to take your studies further”, the older man retorted, sounding distinctly reproachful. And ever so maddeningly polite.

But Turles caught the cunning in his careful choice of words. Bardock wasn’t nearly as proper as he would like to make himself appear.

“Feeling nostalgic of the old times already?”, the younger man teased, flashing an impudent smirk.

Judging by the way Bardock’s dark eyes hardened, he still wasn’t over Turles’ inappropriate attempts at seducing him. Judging by those same eyes roamed over his body, Turles’ charms were still anything but wasted on him. 

The older man tensed up visibly when his former student caught him staring. He averted his gaze. Turles’ smirk widened. Time hadn’t made the other man better at dissimulating his embarrassment and it was quite positively a treat to see.

“Not really. I found ways to keep myself occupied”, was the bioengineer’s defensive response.

“Yes, I have read a little something about your latest work. It was quite fascinating. But mine are just layman’s words and from what I’ve read around you’ve earned yourself much higher praise”, Turles switched approach, figuring a little greasing would have softened his companion. “It must be quite rewarding, to get this kind of recognition.”

“The highest reward was getting a chance to make my small contribution, really”, Bardock countered, humbly.

“Save it for the award speeches”, Turles replied with a grin, “I might be but a disappointing layman, but even I know you might have revolutionized the field.”

“Don’t trust the headlines, magazines have a tendency to be way too liberal with their words.“

The bioengineer acted modest but Turles could that, deep down, he was pleased by the compliment. 

“You can’t blame them. A scientist’s ego is always in need of stroking”, Turles quoted, “Those were your words.”

“I remember saying that. I, for one, try to keep my feet on the ground, as a general rule”, the other acknowledged, drily.

“Hard to believe, considering how much you’ve travelled for this research. You’ve been around the world at least a couple times, I believe. I see your accomplishments paid off quite well too”, Turles continued, nodding meaningfully towards the house. “You’ve got yourself quite a nice nest here, Professor. Rented or bought?”

“Bought. And, please, no need for formalities. I haven’t been a teacher in many years.”

“Never thought you as the type of guy to settle down, ‘dock”, Turles purred, extremely pleased by the way the other’s eyes narrowed at his ambiguously-sounding epithet, “Then again, with what you’ve accomplished I’m sure any university would offer you a chair.”

“What can I say, I’m not the young researcher I used to be. A man my age’s got to start thinking about retirement.”

With Turles punctuating his sentences by subtly edging closer and closer, Bardock had tensed up again, looking defensive and annoyed. By the position of his left foot, Turles judged, he was about to be even more annoyed.

“Maybe so. But I’m certain a man your age still has some lust for life.”

Turles had leaned in ever so slightly. Bardock had instinctively moved backwards. Unfortunately, his heel had met with the cardboard of one of the boxes and threatened to tip him off balance. Turles grabbed onto his tank top and pulled him forth towards hm with just enough firmness to stop the man from stumbling backwards. His hold lingered a second longer than necessary. For a moment, their faces were but a breath away from each other, long enough to remind the bioengineer of one distant, drunken night at a gay bar, when they’d found themselves in a similar position. Bardock gawked at him with a mixture of surprise and indignation. Then, the spell broke. Turles flashed him an innocent smile before letting him go.

“Careful there”, he cooed, much to the other’s chagrin, “That package looks like it’s meant for a much more careful handling.”

This time around, the older man’s eyes flashed dangerously. The color that rose to his cheeks wasn’t from the heat. He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t get to chance to speak.

“Ah, do we have a visitor?”

Both men turned their heads around. 

The owner of the voice walked calmly towards them. He was a tall, middle-aged man with fairly dark skin, slightly gray-streaked brown hair and a slightly receding hairline. He sported what Turles would nicely call a “nostalgic” haircut, strongly reminiscent of an 80s mullet. It look quite old fashioned but whatever hair product the man was using made it work quite nicely with his features. He had a large forehead and a pleasantly oblong face with a strong jawline and even stronger cheekbones. Underneath thick, well-shaped eyebrows and alluringly droopy eyelids twinkled a pair of dark, friendly eyes.

Bardock cleared his throat.

“Toma, you remember my former student, Turles. Turles, this is my husband, Toma.”

“I thought I recognized a familiar face”, Toma smiled, welcoming, and politely extended his hand in greeting. The younger man shook it, equally polite, quickly shifting to his best, family-friendly behavior. 

Turles too had recognized the man. He’d seen him, walking and talking with Bardock around campus. They hadn’t been married at the time but already then Turles suspected an involvement. The two of them never seemed to be too big on public displays of affection, but the tension between them, though extremely subtle, was something the younger man never missed. Undeniably, the marriage had been a surprise even for him. Even now, seeing the two man standing side by side in front of their very house, Turles found it hard to believe they’d sealed the deal. 

He thought himself very good at feeling people out and Bardock had never struck him as someone to settle. He’d always been so proud, always so independent. Always so secretly hungry. It was a wonder how the man had come to terms with sharing his life and household with somebody else. Especially since, even though his husband was standing right next to him, Bardock was still looking at him with the same old ill-concealed hunger he’d only barely stifled when he was still his teacher. And, if he truly was good at feeling people out as he thought he was, he could have sworn there was a spark of interest in Toma’s eyes as well… 

But Turles judged it wise to keep such thoughts to himself.

“I could say the same”, he retorted, pleasantly, “I was just complimenting your husband on his new abode. Given the circumstances, I must extend my compliments to the both of you. Two hearts and a hut, huh?“

“Quite expensive for a hut”, the other laughed, jovially, “But I’m sure we’ll get our money’s worth. For now, there’s still quite a bit of work left to do, especially in the back.”

“I see I stepped in in the middle of if.”

“Oh, this isn’t even half of it. We could use an extra couple of hands.”

Toma and Barodck exchanged a quick glance. It was just very subtle, but it was exactly the kind of thing that betrayed a deep, wordless understanding between the two of them and Turles didn’t miss it. He was almost sure they were about to throw a proposition his way but then came by another distraction.


“Ah, speaking of an extra pair of hands…”

Turles turned around and, to his surprise, recognized a very familiar pool boy. Broly’s eyes widened ever so slightly as he spotted him in return.

“Lots of interesting encounters today…”, he murmured to himself, as the other hesitantly closed the distance between himself and the little congregation.

“I brought back the tools I borrowed”, Broly muttered, soft-spoken, almost demure.

The boy rarely spoke but, when he did, it was often very succinctly and in tones that clashed quite remarkably with the way he carried himself. He was big and burly in a way that made his reticence and reluctance pass for coldness. Figuring out the guy was simply shy had been a never ending wonder to both Raditz and Turles.

Broly shot a hard look at Turles before slipping his backpack off his shoulder, taking out the borrowed items and handing them to Toma. 

“Turles, this is Broly, he’s helping us with the work in the back-“

“Oh, we’re already acquainted”, Turles interrupted him, “One could say we go way back.”

Though he was meant to be on his best behavior, Turles wasn’t the type to be subtle and flashed him a knowing grin. Meeting his former professor had been a nice addition to his afternoon, but it was far from the most interesting thing that had happened to him that day and he wasn’t about to let the other boy forget it. 

“He’s quite the Good Samaritan. He’s been helping out over at Gine and Seripa’s as well the past few weeks. I’ve been over at their place to keep Raditz company as he surveys the work. Though the two of us has been fooling around more than anything. In fact, it would be more accurate to say he has been keeping an eye on the two of us”, he insinuated, feigning innocence.

The glare that Broly shot him would have been almost scary if it hadn’t been accompanied by a delightful, sudden rush of crimson to his face. After that, the boy retreated into his sullen, stubborn silence. It was unclear whether it was from simmering anger or embarrassment. He took a stiff step backwards and then took his leave with an even stiffer nod at the house owners to mark his departure. He didn’t leave without directing another death-glare towards Turles, to which the darker skinned man responded with a charming smile.

“Don’t pick on that kid”, Bardock reproached him, to Turles’ surprise, when Broly had gotten far enough, “Heaven knows he’s already been through enough without you making him revert into his selective mutism.”

Admittedly, Turles hadn’t known much about Broly, save from what he’d witnessed in person during his childhood. He was reminded there and then that Bardock had been acquainted for a long time with the boy’s father, Paragas. If memory served him right, they had even been colleagues, at some point, but that friendship had long since turned sour. Turles had never known the details and it wasn’t beneath him to acknowledge he cared very little for them. Broly was nothing but a game to him, a game he intended to win. Nevertheless, he took note of Bardock’s sentiment. It would have been unwise not to, considering he was beginning to see the outline of a new kind of game taking shape on his horizon. 

“I’m just teasing him. He always seems so tense, I just can’t help joking around a bit. I don’t have anything nefarious in mind, you can trust me on that”, he assured, with a honeyed smile, “On that note, I’d love to give you a hand with these boxes but I do have something quite nefarious planned for my evening. I should probably be on my way now. But I wouldn’t mind lending a hand sometimes. I hang about this side of town a lot lately and it I would hate to miss this chance to liven up an old acquaintance.”

He brazenly winked at Bardock. His former professor frowned and, for a second, he feared he might have dared too much. 

“That would be quite helpful. We’ll take you up on your offer. We’d love to have you over for a drink as well, as a thank you for your help, of course”, Toma offered, seemingly surprising former teacher and former student both. 

Turles shot a glance at Bardock but the man didn’t seem to have anything to say against it. His frown looked quite thoughtful now. The younger man’s smile widened. 

“I wouldn’t say no to a drink”, he declared, shaking Toma’s hand, amiably. 

“You can ask Raditz for my number. I’m sure Gine has it saved somewhere”, Bardock suggested, unexpectedly.

“Will do!”

Turles extended his hand to his former professor once again and leaned in ever so slightly once his shake was reciprocated.
“It’s been a pleasure seeing you again, ‘dock”, he purred, giving the man’s hand another subtle squeeze. 

His obsidian eyes lingered on the other man’s a second longer than courtesy demanded. If Bardock was stunned by Turles daring such advances right in front of his husband he didn’t let it show and neither did Toma. The man merely held his gaze and nodded cordially when he moved to leave. 

As he walked away, Turles made sure his favorite pair of shorts didn’t go to waste. 

 

 

The white rental truck parked outside glimmered like opal under the clear night sky. The eerie reflectiveness of moonlight was accentuated by the hue of the double layered tinted glass. 

Bardock stood in front of it, staring down into the empty suburban street, wearing nothing but a light, silken bathrobe he’d acquired years before during one of his many trips abroad. He took slow, meditative sips from a bourbon glass he held almost distractedly in his left hand. He normally took it neat but he liked it better on the rocks during the summer. Just the crackling noise of the ice as it melted into the heavy liquor made him feel refreshed. As much as he could tolerate heat quite well, he enjoyed solace from it even more. 

The cool shower had washed off the sweat and the fatigue of the day from his slightly sunburnt skin. The heat outside had been particularly vexing lately. He felt especially grateful for the lenient temperature of his bedroom. The window was cool to the touch. The special photovoltaic layer -one of the many unplanned yet extremely cherished application of his research- did a good job retaining the heat as well as the sunlight. The glass had the added benefit of granting them quite a nice view of the neighborhood as well as complete privacy from indiscreet eyes. Bardock didn’t like feeling exposed, nevertheless  he, for one, appreciated the unilateral relationship he had with the outside world like that. Seeing while being unseen. The notion was comforting in his own way. 

His husband, on the other hand, based his appreciation for their glass panels on quite a different conceptual approach. 
Bardock spotted Toma’s appearance from the reflection in the glass. The other man hadn’t bothered with a bathrobe. He emerged from the bathroom with just a tower loosely wrapped around his hips. Their eyes locked without Bardock having to turn around. The bioengineer took another sip of his drink before holding his hand out, making the ice in the half finished drink tinkle. Toma caught on the wordless, offering gesture. He walked over, took the drink from his hand and finished it with one long sip before setting the empty glass on the nightstand. 

“You look pensive”, Toma commented, walking behind his husband, finding his eyes in the reflection on the glass. 

Strong arms encircled the silken-clad torso. Bardock inhaled sharply, feeling the unexpected coolness of ice when a familiar hand slipped underneath the folds of his robe, stroking his chest, but didn’t break eye contact.

“Something on your mind?”

The other hand, warm and calloused, followed suit, searching for his skin but touching lower. Bardock exhaled, leaning back against his husband’s frame, idly watching the meandering pursuit of his hands across the expanse of his chest.

“You know me well.”

Toma leaned his head on his shoulder, his nose and mouth tracing the curve of his husband’s neck.

Hard to believe they’d been just really good friends once. Now that kind of touch had the power to make Bardock’s head spin, even after all those years. Toma was teasing his left nipple. The cool drippings of the melting ice cube rolled down his stomach, down to the places where the other hand was touching. Warm knuckles and digits grazed the dark hair that trailed down his torso, teasingly.

“We’re married, you know”, he reminded him, jokingly, yet, somehow, without allowing sultry sensuality to fade from his voice.

Bardock grinned to himself. Their marriage had always been anything but conventional. There were vows they hadn’t sworn in front of a minister. Even so, it wasn’t entirely dissolute. The openness in their union extended to honesty as well and that was a vow Bardock had all the intention of keeping. Bardock didn’t like feeling exposed but Toma was the one person he felt no shame sharing his thoughts with.

“I think want to break one of our rules”, he calmly confessed.

There was no need sugarcoating the issue. He wasn’t worried about what Toma might have thought about his admission. He felt like he had already grasped his husband’s thoughts. And Toma’s next words confirmed his suspicions.

“I think I want to see you break one.”

Bardock’s grin widened. Toma had pressed up against him. Judging by what he felt, the towel around his  husband’s hips was about come loose under an unexpected strain. Bardock’s robe too was about to come undone, and not just thanks to Toma’s hands. Their eyes met in the glass.

“I think you want to break one yourself”, he ventured, cunningly.

“You know me well”, Toma breathed in his ear. 

Bardock felt the towel fall around their feet. He untied the silken band around his waist and soon his bathrobe followed suit. 

“We’re married, remember?”, he repeated, huskily.

 

 


Stroboscopic lights. Bardock’s handsome face popping in and out of darkness in sudden flashes of color, now blue, now yellow, now red. The music, loud enough to cancel all background noise. The single-mindedness of stares, the necessity to rely solely on them. The look of dismay in Bardock’s eyes when he spotted him, the knowledge of having a bit too much alcohol in his system to be able to resist him.  And then the intensity, the hunger that those new, unexpected, unconventional circumstances allow him. And, when he gets close enough to feel it, the smell of him. The scent of his sweat barely tempered by his cologne, the last remaining trace of politeness left on him. It’s hot in the club. Bardock’s skin is glistening, his shirt is unbuttoned at the top. The need to strip it off him, alongside that maddening, out-of-place politeness of his. His face his close to Bardock’s now. Bardock doesn’t stop him. Their mouths are heaving, stealing each other’s breaths. Bardock doesn’t stop him. His hand is on the front of Bardock’s pants. Bardock doesn’t stop him…

Not yet. Not in his fantasy. 

Turles lied on his bed. His shirt had been ditched as soon as he’d gotten home. He'd had less patience with his pants. Those had been pulled down and left crumpled around his ankles. His hardness had demanded his attention almost immediately. A jar of vaseline lied still opened at his side. His sex stood stiff and throbbing, with both his hands wrapped around its lenght, stroking feverishly. His eyes were resolutely closed as he lost himself in a memory that could fire him up like few others. 

But soon memory had to revert to fantasy. In his fantasy, Bardock never stopped him and never walked out of the club, fuming with shame and anger. In his fantasy, Bardock unleashed the hunger he somehow managed to keep under control in class and in public. In his fantasy, Bardock wasn’t the only one daring. Turles didn’t limit himself. He let his imagination run free. In his fantasy…

They’re in class. It’s after hours. Turles backs Bardock up against his desk. He is going to fulfill his lust right in the place where it is denied him. 

Bardock is unraveling right in front of his eyes. His dark hands and on his stupid, polite-professor shirt and rip it right off of him. Bardock is looking at him, his composure is coming undone. His eyes are hungry, his guard is down. Turles' knee presses in between his legs and finds him hard and hot. Bardock is panting heavilly. His ridiculously sexy, stupid, polite-professor glasses are fogged up by the heat of his breath. Turles knows what he wants to tell him. He wants to reproach him. Turles wants to be reproached. But he also wants to have him on his knees and shut him up with his cock. And he does so, fucking his handsome face against the desk. He paints his face white with his release. Bardock looks even handsomer licking Turles' spent from his swollen lips.

Turles groaned, his whole body shivering from the lascivious image conjured up by his own mind. He was getting close, dangerously so, but he was far from done with his dreaming. His right hand stroked faster, his left hand shifting down to fondle his sack.

Now Bardock is bent down over his own desk. He did so by his own accord. He is pressing backwards into him with his hips, panting and groaning. He sounds desperate. Turles knows he is painfully hard in his pants. One of his hands hurriedly fiddles with the belt. The buckle comes undone, the zipper is next. Then Bardock pulls down his pants. He looks over his shoulder to look at Turles as he offers him his ass.

“Fuck me”, he begs.

He’s not so high and mighty anymore when he begs. And his voice has never sounded better. His hole is perfect, rosy and slick like his lips and it’s twitching for Turles’ cock. Turles is hard and throbbing and ready - he’s never been readier in his life. He sighs when he finally feeds his cock to that perfect hole. Bardock moans like a bitch in heat. 

Turles start thrusting, hard and fast. The empty classroom echoes with the sounds of their shameless coupling. The smacking of their hips is maddeningly wet and loud. The force of his thrusts slams Bardock against the desk. Bardock can’t touch himself. He can only hold on for dear life as Turles ravages him. Turles’ hands leave dark marks on his sides and on his cheeks. Still, Bardock begs for more. He is tight and warm and feels better than anything Turles has ever fucked in his life.

And now Bardock is coming in his pants, untouched, coming from Turles’ cock alone, and his hole is twitching and throbbing around him, squeezing around his cock so, so tight…

“Aw fffuuuck- Nnnghhh-!“

Turles yelled out, enthusiastically, coming all over his hand and stomach. He breathed fast and heavy as if he’d been running. He kept stroking until he felt every last drop had left his shaft. Only then he looked down, examining the copious mess he’d spilt over his groin. 

“Fucking hell…”, he chuckled, breathlessly, blindly reaching for the tissue box on his nightstand.

He hadn’t indulged in that old fantasy in a long time but that fancy hadn’t lost its efficacy, apparently.

“Sorry, Radi… I was saving this for you, but I’m only human, after all”, he joked to himself, as he wiped his hands, “I had to get your little brother’s daddy out of my system. And now that I have… I can focus on our own little game again.”

Chapter Text

Things were going well. Almost too well for Vegeta’s liking. Traveling around with Kakarot was everything he’d expected it to be and more and yet, at the same time, nothing like what he’d expected. The two of them seemed to have wordlessly agreed to make up for all the wasted time they’d spent apart. 

The sex was mind-blowing. Neither of them seemed to grow tired of it. They gave each other up to the other’s embrace with the same single-minded intensity that had sparked between them on the ring. They were at it like rabbits, tirelessly seeking each other’s warmth in the hot summer nights, tasting the salt of sweat on each other’s lips. Passion seemed to burst effortlessly when they were together. With it, they discovered a side of something akin to tenderness or relief in the blossoming of a new kind of intimacy, one they had previously denied themselves, to save appearances.

When they weren’t eating or fucking, they were on the move, for no other reason than giving Vegeta the impression of escaping the daunting closeness they found waiting again and again in every single hotel room they checked in. They miraculously managed to save face, keeping things cool in public. Vegeta tried to look detached, uninterested. Most of their conversations were spoken through looks and glances, as they sat across each other on a train or at a table. When he looked into Goku’s eyes, he felt the enamored carelessness he was not able to summon within himself. It was an inability that ruled him, a mistress as inflexible as his pride. 

And when Vegeta’s pride got in between them, it pushed them apart. 

 

They’d walked in the pub together but they stood at the opposite sides of the room, Goku at the bar, sipping up a fruity cocktail with uncharacteristic leisure, Vegeta leaning against a wall in the darkest corner of the room with a beer bottle in his hand. The live band had finished their show and the lights had been dimmed. The music coming from the speakers was still relatively mild, but the progressive increase in the volume anticipated the transition to obnoxiously loud party music. People in the pub were starting to sway to the rhythm. The wavering group of customers had grown into a crowd again and, as the music rose and the bass deepened, excitement began to bubble too. 

The casual exchange of glances between Goku and Vegeta was disturbed by the passage of several girls -and even a couple of guys- shooting heavy-lidded looks, now at one, now at the other man. 

Despite his indifference towards engaging in any form of interaction, Vegeta had found himself drawn into an almost one-sided conversation with a very self-assured brunette. She was admittedly fairly attractive and, though her insistence had annoyed him at first, her cockiness charmed him. 

Vegeta shot a look across the room. Kakarot seemed to have found himself in a similar situation. He looked awkward, visibly unsure about the two amused girls dancing up on him, lovingly trying to get him to loosen up. The crowded space demanded some shifting and moving around. As alcohol and time flowed, general, growing enthusiasm provided several excuses for the girls to lean on him. Seemingly innocent touches hid  purposeful squeezes, gauging intent recoiling behind a semblance of polite clumsiness. No doubt, Kakarot’s pursuers had the chance to feel the firmness of his pecs and biceps under the light, button down shirt Vegeta had bought for him just a couple days before. What they felt, they liked, and it kept them sticking around, hopeful and intrigued. The two young vixens seemed almost comically small next to Kakarot. And yet, despite dwarfing them, he seemed to struggle to keep up with them. For once, Vegeta found his clumsiness entertaining, almost endearing. The girls seemed to agree with him. They were too occupied with giggling and grinding to notice Kakarot shooting apprehensive looks in the direction of his rival. He looked displeased when he realized the older man had no intention of getting him out of trouble, almost offended.

Vegeta replied with a sneer before turning his attention to his own young vixen. 

The girl had flipped her long hair out of the way, offering him a peak of her bosom. And he was entirely willing to give in to the distraction she offered him. She was curvaceous, cocksure and brazen, and she moved like she knew what she wanted and exactly how to get it. Vegeta too knew what she wanted. The way she pressed up against him as she coaxed him into a sensuous dance left little room for interpretation, and much less room between their bodies. He didn’t stop her, indulging her show of sensuality with a pleased smile and rewarding her efforts with his undivided attention. She smirked back and turned around. Her generous backside grazed against his crotch. He let her place his hands on her hips as she swayed side to side. 

Vegeta had never truly been with a woman before. He’d had his share of casual flirting, the save-face shows of interest for some beautiful yet irrelevant acquaintance of his. It had all been to divert his father’s suspicions from what he’d actually been up to during his college years. He often thought he’d been all too invested in the deception to actually focus on the other sex. He’d never found it all that interesting, but he would have been lying if he’d said the warmth of her right there and then didn’t make him feel a stir in his pants.

On the other side of the room, Goku’s pursuers were trying to elicit the same reaction from him. Vegeta couldn’t help but keep shooting glances in his direction. A fastidious instinct stopped his attention from being completely engrossed by the seductive sway of his dancing partner’s hips. As always, Kakarot’s presence proved to be an irresistible distraction. When the younger warrior caught his eye, this time, his gaze unexpectedly shifted ever so slightly, as it did during a fighting match. Vegeta knew that dark glimmer all too well. It was the sign that Kakarot was about to get serious. Despite himself, Vegeta felt a prick of excitement.
Judging from the glance of flattered surprise the girl shot him over her shoulder, she had felt it his excitement too. She smiled, complicit, turning to Vegeta. She leaned in and whispered a dirty suggestion into his ear. Vegeta didn’t give her a reply. In her cocksureness, she didn’t wait for one. She merely glanced at him before suggestively heading for the door to the ladies’ room. Vegeta’s eyes skimmed across the dance floor. On the other side of the room, Kakarot had followed the girl’s trajectory too and was now looking straight at him, a hopeful, expectant look on his face. Vegeta returned his gaze, stone-faced, as he leisurely finished his drink. Kakarot’s dance partners were insistently wondering why he’d stopped dancing with them. Vegeta put his glass down on a neighboring table and then, maintaining eye contact, made his way towards the bathroom doors. When he looked away, he could feel Kakarot’s eyes on him. He smirked to himself. He didn’t need to look to know the younger man has moved to reach him as well. Part of him -a mean, instigative part of him- tingled with fiendish curiosity at the thought of what would have happened if he’d turned right into the ladies’ room. Yet, at the very last second, he turned left. 

Vegeta’s calm, sauntering stride came to an abrupt halt as soon as he walked into the men’s bathroom, finding it conveniently empty. He only had the time to turn around before Goku barged in behind him. The irresponsible idiot didn’t even take a look around the room before seizing him. One breath and Goku’s hungry mouth was on his, a low, rumbling sound stifled directly against his lips. Under his assault, Vegeta stumbled backwards until his back met the sink. His hands rushed back to lean his weight against the counter. Goku was still rushing him, pressing into him with his whole body, and Vegeta had to hold onto him with his legs. Goku hoisted him up, panting against his mouth as chased after it, sought for it, all teeth and tongue and eager fervor. The passionate onslaught had Vegeta breathless. For a moment, his mind went blank. Between the buzz of alcohol in his veins, the loud music sneaking into the bathroom and his lover’s ardor, it was all too easy to forget their surroundings, the thought of the girl waiting for him in the other restroom, entirely forsaken. 

It wasn’t until the back of his head reached the mirror that he started noticing the straining arching of his back, the wonton spreading of his thighs, the insinuating touch of his companion’s hands on his sides and chest. And the heat he felt blooming where Goku’s pelvis brushed against his. The full extent of their indecency came over him in an instant. 

He pushed his rival away, not without dissatisfaction. With a pant and grunt he ripped himself away from the other’s mouth. When his eyes opened he saw a thinning string of drool connecting his abused lips to Goku’s kiss-swollen ones. The younger man was staring at him, still flushed and glossy-eyed and seemingly confused by the interruption. Goku tried surging forth, seeking his lover’s mouth once more, but the older man’s hand was still pressed against his chest, firmly, to stop him. By the look of disappointment that transpired on his countenance, Vegeta could have almost heard the younger man whimper at the rejection. Goku looked at him, searching his eyes, ever so mindful, ever so attentive. His dark eyes swayed momentarily, watching Vegeta intently wipe his own lower lip with thumb.

“You’re pathetic, Kakarot.”

Thankfully for Vegeta, Goku wasn’t the type to point out he had a lot of nerve to say something like that in his condition. He was still leaning on the sink counter, legs spread, his formerly decorous clothes in disarray. His shirt was crumpled where his lover’s hands had gripped it, hanging unbecomingly open on his heaving chest. His face was flushed, his lips parted, swollen and glimmering, his pupils blown wide and nostrils flaring.

“Huh?”, the younger fighter let out.

“What were you trying to get at by following me here, mmh?”, Vegeta taunted, caustically. 

He gave his rival a slight shove, his hands meeting with a rock-hard chest. Goku merely stumbled backwards a couple steps, perturbed by the gesture rather than the push itself. 

“I… I thought-“, he stammered, confused.

Vegeta knew what exactly what he thought. He didn’t need to notice the beginning of a promising swelling in his pants to figure it out.

“You thought I wanted to give you an encore of what we did in that filthy toilet on the train?”

“Which one?”, Goku retorted, with a lopsided grin.

“Don’t get all smart-ass on me”, Vegeta warned, getting back on his feet. 

He didn’t even bother adjusting his shirt or his hair and Goku noticed it.

“I wasn’t. I was just trying to-“

“I know what you were trying to do. Asserting yourself”, Vegeta interrupted him, taking a step forward and making his increasingly more confused companion take one back.

“What do you mean?”

“Has it occurred to you I might have had all the intention to keep dancing with that girl and not with you?”

Goku frowned, his lips pursing slightly. His childlike disappointment somewhat irked and, despite himself, tickled Vegeta. The older man was unsure weather his elation was due to the alcohol or the loud music or their circumstances, but he suddenly felt inclined to stoop to a bit of childishness himself.

“What’s that pouty face for, Kakarot? Jealous?”, the older man teased, shoving at his companion again, a mean grin bending his lips.

“No, I’m not.”

The dry, honest reply halted Vegeta in his tracks. 

“What do you mean you’re not?”, the older man inquired with a hint of annoyance in his tone, his grin had faded, “You think I couldn’t take someone else to my room tonight?”

“I think you could. I’m sure you could”, Goku replied, earnestly, but there was a spark of slyness in his eye, “I can’t imagine how anyone could refuse you.”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. For once he was at a loss of words. For all his sense of superiority, he wasn’t immune to flattery.

“Besides”, Goku continued, his grin broadening, “I don’t think you would go through with it.”

“You don’t know that”, the older man hissed, not bothering to hide his irritation, “You don’t know me.”

The slithering alteration in his tone was the only warning he gave before surging forth, grabbing Goku by the shirt and pushing him backwards. The pair stumbled into a stall, the door banging open and bouncing back behind them. The feeble resistance his shove encountered made Vegeta suspect his companion was allowing the manhandling. The playful glimmer in the other’s dark eyes made him even more frustrated, mostly with himself for the way his felt himself react to his rival’s newly bared chest. The vicious grip of Vegeta’s hands on his shirt had caused a couple buttons to shoot up in the air. They’d long since fallen to the grimy tile floor. The only sound left once their pit-a-pat had died off was their breathing. 

Vegeta willed his gaze away from Goku’s sculpted chest and fixed it on his face, with burning eyes. The younger man returned his look, matching his enthralled intensity with a spark of earnest perceptiveness. 

“I think I know you enough by know”, he uttered slowly with infuriating, knowing deliberation.

“If you did, you’d know better than pushing it, Kakarot”, Vegeta replied, caustic. 

He quivered in annoyance but didn’t repulse his rival when he stepped closer, allowing tension to saturate the closeness.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t count on me picking you to be the only one warming my bed at night. I don’t plan on restraining my appetites just because you’re around”, Vegeta continued.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you”, was the unnerving reply.

“Don’t you care about being replaced, then?”, the older man insisted, inflammatory. He couldn’t figure out where this seeming indifference was coming from and it infuriated him.

“Of course I do.”

“And are you going to do anything about it?”

“If you want to replace me, there’s nothing I can do about it but accept it.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself, Kakarot?”, Vegeta scoffed, “Do you want me to replace you?”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Then what do you want?”, the older man snarled, gripping his rival by the collar of his shirt once more, his patiences growing thin, “What is that you want with me, you goddamn fool?”

“I just want to be with you”, was the disarming reply, spoken without hesitation and in such fervent tones that Vegeta was caught by surprise. “Anyway, anyhow. I want you. Even if it means I need to share you. I’d share you with the entire world as long as I still get to have you.”

“Debasing yourself to compromise… Are you really that pathetic, Kakarot?”, the other retorted, after a dumbfounded pause, unsure on whether or not he found his rival’s words flattering or disgraceful. “You’d rather settle for less just to get a mere taste of me?”
“Who said anything about settling for less?”, the younger fighter returned, surprising him, a mischievous grin curling his lips, “I never said I wouldn’t enjoy sharing you. Or sharing with you.”

It took Vegeta one bewildered look to know his companion was entirely serious in his meaning. The intensity in Kakarot’s eyes as he blurted out the confession caused blood to rush to Vegeta’s head. The older man’s cheeks now matched the ruddiness of his rival’s, who was still flushed from alcohol and excitement. He was speechless, feeling cornered in more ways then one. Kakarot simply stared at him, starry-eyed and expectant, leaning slightly forward. 

“I’m so happy to have taken this trip with you, ‘Geta.”

“You’re drunk”, Vegeta finally scoffed, averting his gaze.

He made to turn around, letting go of the other’s collar and awkwardly shuffling to reach for the handle, when Kakarot intercepted him, trapping him against the stall door.

“So? So are you”, he retorted, smirking stupidly.

“You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“What if I do?”, the younger man purred, leaning in. 

Kakarot’s muscular thigh found its way in between Vegeta’s legs, making the older man’s breath hitch. Vegeta blamed the alcohol for the way he felt himself instinctively grind down on his rival’s leg. That man had a way to set him on fire in ways he still couldn’t explain to himself. He found himself all too easily distracted by what his lover’s hands and lips were doing to him. 

The discussion had started as presumptuous teasing but it had long since taken an odd turn, one even Vegeta knew wasn’t wise to let go ignored, no matter how much its implications embarrassed him. What they’d accidentally started begged for a conclusion. However, it wasn’t a conversation they should have been having in their condition.

“This isn’t over”, he whispered under his breath.

Kakarot grinned in response, a dreamy haze in his eyes that made him look like the hopelessly enamored idiot he was and made Vegeta wonder if he’d even registered his warning before claiming his mouth again. He made a mental note to take it upon himself to bring the conversation up again. 

 

Predictably, after they’d drunkenly taken what they’d started in the club’s bathroom stall to the hotel bedroom, there hadn’t been a lot of talking. After a much, satisfying, draining roll in the sheets, they’d both passed out from exhaustion. When the light of day had roused them late the next morning, naked, drowsy and still sticky from the night before, neither of them felt like talking. 

As Vegeta sunk down onto his rival’s lap, the pull guiding his hips downwards was not just gravity or the fervent touch of his lover’s hands on his sides. His body moved following the drive of his seemingly unquenchable hunger. By the way turgid heat throbbed inside him when he ground down onto it, his lover’s lust was just as insatiable as his was. 

Goku’s face made for a truly indecent show of transparent arousal. As always, his pleasure was written plain as day on his countenance, bright and wild, shining through the earnest crease of his furrowed brow, the enraptured curl of his parted lips and he groaned and panted his lover’s name.

Vegeta stared down at him, basking in the spectacle of his unraveling lover squirming underneath him. Goku never quite taken to immobility. Vegeta could tell submitting to his deliberate, leisured pace was slowly sublimating into erotic torture for the younger man’s explosively excitable libido. Vegeta could feel tension progressively accumulate in the other’s body. He knew Goku wouldn’t have wanted anything more than flip him over and pound him into the mattress, yet he still submitted, eyes closed shut and hand clutching the sheets, letting his lover set the pace for them, bouncing up and down his painfully hard shaft. The younger man’s meekness and obedience edged on adoration. The touch of his big, warm hands accompanied rather than guided his lover down onto his lap, the cycling of his thumb on his hipbone was titillating, bordering on worshipful. And Vegeta joyously basked in his worship, in the revering wantonness with which the gyrating motion of his hips made his rival sigh his name. The tranquil power he wielded inebriated him. 

“Vegeta…”, the younger man groaned, half in ecstasy, half in frustration. 

Vegeta grinned in response. His hands moved up from Goku’s shoulders, where he’d placed them to balance himself, to cup the younger fighter’s face. Rough thumbs smoothed over his cheeks and settled at the edges of his mouth. Goku was gazing up at him now, glossy-eyed and unfocused gaze. He looked as mesmerized as Vegeta felt enthralled by the sight. 

“Not yet, Kakarot”, he blandished, huskily, “Not just yet…”

His thumb brushed across his parted mouth. Gentle pressure was all it took to disclose willing, velvet-soft lips and slowly slip inside. Vegeta’s exhale stuttered in ill-contained arousal. The feeling of his rival meekly suckling on his thumb was more than enticing. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, grinding down more enthusiastically, welcoming the sultry fullness flooding his insides with dissolute, depraved delight. Goku’s sex was hot and hard inside him, deliciously bumping and rubbing right where he needed it to. Every inch of his body flared with pleasure, every nerve atingle. Behind closed eyelids, the sweep of his lover’s molten tongue against his pad beckoned his attention to his starved member, which twitched eagerly against his lover’s stomach. Vegeta’s breath hitched. His free hand moved to reach for his need but didn’t make it in time. Instead of his sex, his fingers found rugged knuckles. 

His lover had beat him to his own necessity. Vegeta gasped softly at the warm, firm grasp encircling his hardness. The rough pad of Kakarot’s thumb swept across his tip, smearing the clear beads of liquid that had started leaking from it down along his shaft. The glide of his calloused digits along his sex became smooth, the squeezing, like anything Kakarot did when they were in bed, ever so lovingly mindful of his pleasure. The maddening, coaxing stroking was too much. Vegeta found himself bucking into his lover’s grasp as much as he was onto his lap, eyes shut and his head thrown back, mouth agape and panting. Kakarot’s warmth pleasured him from both sides, from the inside and out. In the heat of the moment of the motion, Vegeta’s thumb slipped out of lover’s mouth. His fingers insinuated into his dark hair instead, curling and uncurling against his scalp, unwittingly mimicking the involuntary writhing of his tingling toes.

“‘Geta…”

The honeyed murmur of Kakarot’s voice was muffled against his lover’s chest once the fighter started suckling at his nipple, teeth and tongue expertly rolling the rosy nub. Vegeta felt himself clench around his rival’s cock. Goku stifled a groan against his rival’s nipple. He could feel his lover was close. He sped up the jerking motion of his hand, working the older man up into frenzied pleasure. The grasp of the older man’s hand on his head tightened. 

“You feel so tight”, the younger warrior sighed, his hot breath washing over the wet smears of the heated kisses he’d deposited across the expanse of his lover’s heaving chest. 

Vegeta could hardly hear him over the thrumming of his own heart. He was holding his rival’s head against his chest as one left to the fury of rolling waves would clasp a lifeline. Behind shut lids, stars were flying across his vision.

“You feel so good, ‘Geta”, Goku let out, jerking his lover faster and faster.

The only response he got was a throaty, hungry sound of pleasure. Vegeta had reached his limit. The motion of his hips stuttered, breath hitching and a long, husky moan spilled through gritted teeth. He hit his climax hard, warm seed gushing in spasmodic spurts in his lover’s grasp, coating his fingers and lower stomach in white. His back hit the mattress just as hard. 

Vegeta found himself flipped onto his back before his sex-hazed brain had time to process his own release. Kakarot had surged underneath him, flipping him over and pinning him down on the mattress. Kakarot’s hands clasped him behind his knees, spreading his legs. Vegeta only had a second to register his new position before his lover resumed his amorous onslaught. Kakarot plunged into him, cutting his breath short. 

“Ahhh- mmghh…”

Vegeta looked up at his lover. Kakarot’s face exuded all the signs of desperate arousal. His nose was wrinkled, his brows furrowed and his mauve lips pressed tightly over gritted teeth. Vegeta caught a glimpse of ivory whiteness where he was biting down on his bottom lip. The look the younger man shot him before resuming his thrusting was almost apologetic. Vegeta could feel the maddening heat of his hardness and tasted his need. He relinquished control, bringing one hand up for his head to rest on as he submitted to Kakarot’s need. The continued onslaught on his prostate prolonged the pleasure of his orgasm, leaving him feeling weak at the knees. 

His indulgence was met with frenzied enthusiasm. Goku had started slow, to his benefit, but was not working his rhythm up to a punishing pace, the forward swinging of his hips growing harsher, seeking to sink deeper and deeper into him. With a pant, the younger fighter pressed against the back of his lover’s knees, forcing him to bend his legs. Vegeta was nothing short than folded over, legs spread wide apart and pressed against his chest. His eyes roamed across his lover’s powerful chest and enraptured face, perfectly framed in his field of vision between his gently bobbing feet. The expression on the older man’s face as he read his younger’s features was knowingly smug and hungrily indulgent. 

Goku was slowly loosing himself to the feeling of warm, slippery tightness his lover’s body so lavishly offered him. The pleasure seeping through his loins was growing so intense he was starting to feel weak. His legs already felt like jelly and yet his hips didn’t seem to be able to stop moving. He was mildly aware of having started to slip slightly on the silken sheets. His head felt heavy. Not without some difficulty, he blinked until his sight regained focus. The sight of his spent lover almost lovingly look up to him as he offered his body to his pleasure was more than enough for Goku to allow himself to succumb to gravity. He leaned forward with a sigh, effectively trapping Vegeta between his heaving chest and the mattress. Both men grunted when he did so.

“‘Geta…”

Vegeta welcomed the sloppy, passionate kisses trailing across his collarbone. His free hand ran to hold Kakarot’s head in place once his soft lips latched to the side of his neck. It felt constrictive and slightly uncomfortable, with Kakarot pressing down onto him. His legs were hanging uselessly over his rival’s shoulders. The position had caused his rear to be lifted from the mattress, slightly, yet just enough to make it easier for his lover to reach the depth he so hungrily sought for. 

Vegeta found himself snugly clenched around the pistoning girth and fighting for his breath. Goku was bottoming out with every thrust, the sensation of his pulsing length against his overstimulated prostate was so intense it bordered on painful. The short, throaty sounds that were escaping the younger man’s lips sounded more primeval than civilized. His single-minded intensity edge on desperate, the rugged quality of his moans was intoxicating. Vegeta was once again overcome with frightening, fierce tenderness. And with it, he felt the pangs of his wounded pride gnawing at him, but he would not give in to the latter to forsake the former. He could have kept Kakarot like that for ever, whining and trembling and so desperately hungry for his own pleasure. 
He gritted his teeth, fingers curling into his lover’s dark hair to hold his head in place as his pace grew frenzied until it broke into stutters and his voice into stuttering groans as he came, enthusiastically, deep within his spasming hole. 

Vegeta drank in with unrepressed satisfaction the sheer animality exuding from his rival’s quivering body as he weakly but greedily prolonged his pleasure by languorously grinding into him. He patiently waited Goku out, feeling his throbbing sex softening inside him and warm seed slowly leaking from his entrance and trickling down in between his cheeks. 

With one final sigh, Goku finally let himself collapse on top of his lover, panting and spent and awfully, shamefully content. He couldn’t have cared less about the sticky mess drying and clinging onto his skin, not with Vegeta’s fingers soothingly scratching his scalp. He felt like he wanted to speak but exhaustion and contentment kept him from trying. His rival’s indulgent embrace said more than words, halfway between an bestowal and a command.

Goku lazily disentangled his arms from his lover’s legs, allowing the shorter man to unfold into a more natural position, but didn’t relinquish his spot on top of him. Vegeta gladly bore his spent weight and the effortless silence that lingered between them. He would have much rather listened to the decelerating thrumming of his lover’s heart against his own than waste his breath with futile conversations, even if the closeness terrified him. His newfound hunger for closeness terrified him even more, so much it paralyzed him, still and unwilling to shift a single inch from beneath his lover’s broad, warm frame. He turned his head to the side. Outside the window, the sun was rising higher and higher into the terse summer sky. He felt no rush, there was none to have. They had their whole day ahead of them, their embrace could have lasted for as long as they’d desired. Neither of them was bothered by the stickiness of drying seed and sweat that clung to their skin. They happily basked in the blissful pool they’d made.

Vegeta took advantage of such moments, when his rival’s mind was engrossed by the afterglow of climax to notice the turning of his thoughts, to allow himself to be entranced by the shape of him, the perfect fit their limbs instinctively found to entwine, the way breath naturally alternated between their chests. His pride would have never allowed him to openly admit it, but Vegeta found his lover to be magnificent. He felt as he looked: glorious. His free hand trailed the length of Goku’s side, idly, unfolding knuckled grazing the curve of his strong back.

A soft, silly-sounding snicker broke the spell of enchantment that had settled over them.

“What’s so funny now, Kakarot?”, Vegeta let out, his tone wavering with barely-stifled annoyance.

“Nothing, ‘Geta, you’re just tickling me”, the younger warrior, squirming slightly.

Vegeta grimaced, simultaneously pissed off and relieved the moment had successfully been spoiled.

“Why you- giant, babbling infant…”, he muttered, purposefully teasing with both hands the spot on his lover’s body that had elicited the childish reaction. “Get off, me idiot!”

Goku managed to disentangle himself from his lover, jerking away from the offending pinching and poking of his hands, tense and breathless with repressed laughter.

“That was uncalled for!”, the younger warrior complained, with a slight pout. 

Goku tried to get his revenge, tickling his lover’s sides as he moved to sit up. He did not have such luck.

“Refrain from making a fool of yourself, Kakarot. Unlike you, I have self-control”, replied the unperturbed fighter, seeing as his younger insisted upon finding a ticklish spot on him.

“You must have a weak spot somewhere-“, Goku stopped dead in his tracks, as if struck by a sudden revelation.

He glanced up at Vegeta. Their faces were a breath away. The older man was suddenly aware of the closeness sneaking in once again as he was that his rival was about to kiss him. Goku leaned in slightly before sneaking his hands between his legs. It was Vegeta’s turn to jerk away, tensing up. 

“Stop it, you moron!”, he thundered, tugging gracelessly at his laughing rival’s hair. He had flushed from indignation and embarrassment. “That’s it! Pack your miserable belongings, Kakarot, we’re moving!”

“But check out isn’t until-“

“I don’t give a damn, I’ve had just about enough of this place!”

Goku smirked, watching his rival storm into the bathroom. They’d been on the move for over a week now. Vegeta’s apprehensive rush made him feel like they were on the run, though he couldn’t tell from what they were even running for. He didn’t mind. He knew, sooner or later, they would have run out of places to run to and he would have Vegeta cornered, exactly where he wanted him.

Lazily stretching his arms above his head, he followed Vegeta into the bathroom. The older man glowered at him but didn’t reject him when he joined him in the shower.