(Author's Note: Uhh, good morning. So this has been my little side project for awhile. Just something that needed to get out of my head really. The last portion may be a bit rushed. Starting a FF was always easy for me, but finishing was tougher because I always wanted to put it out as soon as I'm done and it's always too soon. Oh, well. I'll fix that up later if it's a major problem or errors that I'm too tired to look over.
Warning: More lemons than lemonade.
Enjoy, if you can.)
Title: They'll Never Take Me
A cold rope of flesh crept over Cell's foot. He did not have to look down to know it was Frieza's tail waltzing up his shin like a confused slug.
The prisoners, save Cell, were engaged in another nightly game of charades. The phrase nightly is false, however, as the passage of time is unreliable in hell. Sunlight could bare down upon hell for days, centuries, or minutes. The prisoners initiated their game when the sunset changed the red sky into a cooling purple. They sat in a row in front of the person chosen to mime their answer, sitting close enough to Cell to pretend that he was involved.
Since the sun's waning is as unpredictable as its unblinking noon stare, the prisoners had been engaged with charades for twenty hours. Heaven's stars were now peaking, and, being the only reliable signal that evening was on its way, their game would end with Guldo in the lead if the others were unable to guess in time.
"A Blurblock!" Frieza shouted. When Guldo shook his head Frieza would hiss and punch the air with his right arm while his left arm stayed locked on his side with a wired fist. "Exploding Sim-quark!" was his second guess. Again Guldo shook his head again. Frieza repeated his previous gesture.
During the villians' games Frieza was the only animated being. The others sat like bored cats. Desire to kill and destroy twisted the muscles under Frieza's pearl skin and refused to submit to their iron jewelry box prison. His energy kept his spirit alive, but made him a very bad player in charades. Despite this energy, Frieza's tail behaved like an extra prisoner: a parasite attached to the alien with a gentle temperament contrasting its host, and a consistent blind wriggling towards Cell. This behavior first began with Frieza only resting his tail upon Cell's foot. Eventually the tail gained enough boldness to wrap itself around whatever part of Cell it touched, squeezing like a friendly hand. Today the tail gained the courage to wrap itself around Cell's hamstring. What it wanted Cell could not concern himself with.
"A Humque," King Cold guessed flatly like the pluck of a guitar string.
"That's right!" Guldo clapped. The only amount of pride remaining in Guldo was for his talent in charades. He kept everyone guessing, but the answer was always clear whenever someone deduced what his flailing represented.
As everyone began to get up from their circle, Frieza's tail uncoiled and played dead on the floor
The prisoners separated themselves to their respective cliques. Kind Cold and Frieza kept to the west side of the prison. Their new empire now only possessed a rotten stool, which King Cold used as his throne. Burter and Guldo stayed on had the east side.
Cell's place was centered in the front of the prison, where he could stand in front of the iron bars undisturbed. Silly games to pass the time did not inspire the android to break his detachment. No matter who called his name or prodded him, the android was as indifferent to everyone as time. Cell always stood with his arms crossed and his pink eyes burning towards the horizon. The memory of his desire for Earth's destruction had been charred by his fever for the destruction of existence itself.
"Father, you must get your face of that book," Frieza said.
"My empire didn't rise from me being lenient with finances," King Cold answered without looking up from the little black pocket book he held in his hands. For good behavior, King Cold had been awarded a notebook and pen to keep himself occupied.
Frieza's lips tightened into a small frown. "It's been two thousand years. There is no empire."
"Perhaps, but I left Captain Miruku in charge before we left. Someone like her would have kept the empire alive. Now, suppose she followed her mission to gain control of the Soul Galaxy? Or if she married your cousin … No-no, he's dead, I believe. Yes. Very dead. But suppose ..."
Their conversations went on like that, always wondering the outcome of their destroyed empire.
Burter and Guldo kept to themselves with poker and other card games. They were the only members of the Giynu Force remaining. The others, they could only assume, were escorted to the afterlife. Jeice had been the first to disappear, then Recoome. No one was sure how or when those two had vanished. It seemed that they were there one moment, but, when someone turned their gaze away, they were gone. It felt like they never there at all. Unlike Frieza and Cold, Burter and Guldo had run out of things to say hundred of years ago. They waited in silence for their turn to no longer exist.
"Enough of this," Frieza's tail whipped the stone tiles. "Get up, soldiers. We're going to find a weak point in these bars and leave."
"Eight-hundredth time's the charm," Guldo said. He organized his hand of cards from least to most valuable.
Guldo's comment made Burter snort. The two of them made no effort to give Frieza any more of their attention. They shuffled their cards for a new game of blackjack.
"Fine." Frieza went to the prison bars left of Cell and shook them.
An electric current vibrated from Frieza's halo.
"PLEASE KEEP AWAY FROM THE BARS."
After the halo's thunderclap echoed in the prison chamber, Burter and Guldo looked up from their game. Knowing grins appeared on their faces.
"Mind your own business you glowing-" Frieza grabbed his halo and attempted to wrench the golden ring from the invisible perch above his head.
"PLEASE KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF."
A yellow spark zippered across Frieza's fingers.
"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!" Frieza sucked at the burns while giving his halo a hateful glare.
"PLEASE KEEP VIOLENCE AT MINIMUM VOLUME." The halo's glow dimmed back to its original placid yellow. Security felt it had dealt with the situation appropriately and that it was safe to take recess until the next outburst.
"You wouldn't be laughing if we were still alive!" Frieza said to Burter and Guldo. They weren't laughing, or even smiling anymore, but their indifference was just as damaging.
"And you." Frieza jabbed at Cell's arm. "Standing around and moping. What happened to the world's most perfect warrior?"
Cell's surveillance of the outside could not be diverted.
"Hrmph," Frieza returned to his father in the corner. He hunched over his knees as he listened to his father's musings on improbable outcomes of their empire's fate. Despite the scowl and glare directed at the floor, Frieza's tail tapped with a calm patience to a beat no one could hear.
For hundreds of years Cell had not spoken since he began his obsessive gazing, so the villains did not bother asking him whether he had seen who or what had taken Jeice and Recoom. The disappearances only occurred while everyone else slept and Cell stared into nothingness. For the first time, after a short twenty years of darkness, the villains awoke in the morning to find that the night had taken both Burter and Guldo.
This discovery riled Frieza. He took to pacing the back wall. The stones were chalked with white sores as Frieza's nails dragged behind hi. Faded gray streaks implied that this behavior was routine.
"We have got to get out of here," Frieza hissed. His arm made a curving sweep across the wall, yellow sparks puffed behind the trail his fingernails carved.
"Calm down, son," King Cold said. Over the centuries the king's tone had shifted from fatherly concern to unstirred boredom. "You need to focus on more positive things, like Goku-"
Frieza's head swivelled over his shoulder. His sharp expression waited to know what sort of positivity Goku's mentioning could contain.
"Goku and his colleagues are long dead by now." King Cold chucked to himself, making a note about that fact in his notebook.
"Why," Frieza said, his lips moving but his teeth clamped together, "would that make me feel better?"
"Because they're dead," King Cold said.
"But I wanted to KILL THEM!" Frieza punched the wall, creating a ripple of cracks. Without warning a lightening bolt from his halo whipped Frieza hard enough to throw him onto the floor, unconscious and twitching like a stomped cockroach.
"PLEASE ABSTAIN YOURSELF FROM VANDALIZING HELL'S PROPERTY," the halo said with a bright glow.
Disappointment was evident in King Cold's expression. Shaking his head, he returned to his notebook.
Night returned in record time.
After five short hours, the day passed, sunset passed, and darkness had arrived.
Without Hell's burning sun to keep his fire aflame, Cell's immersion within his imaginary rampage smoldered. During these cool nights that Cell remembered where he was. He remembered how much time had passed within this eternity. He remembered how tired he was.
The moon revealed that his armor was no longer its original lime green, but had faded into a shade of ancient mold. His arms slipped from their helix binding and fell to his sides. Wooden pops creaked in his elbows and wrists. Cell exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for the past hundred years. His head dropped and rested against the prison bars.
Cell closed his eyes. He could hear from King Cold's breathing that the old emperor was lost in dreams of conquest. Cell also recognized from Frieza's mousy breathing that the white alien had not yet fallen asleep.
Frieza was curled up next to his father in a tucked ball. His tail was wrapped like a blanket over his limbs and face. Only one open eye was exposed and stared at cell, reflecting green from the moonlight as a cat's would. Frieza reached a hand out and pawed at the floor as if he were checking for traps. When deemed safe, Frieza silently sprung from his father's side and approached Cell with careful steps.
"Cell," Frieza whispered. The tip of Frieza's tail reached out and hooked Cell's ankle. The rest of the tail swayed like a hanging rope.
There wasn't enough motivation for Cell to pay Frieza's touch any mind. At most he could turn his eyes towards the alien. The whites of his eyes were scarred the same pink as his irises.
This was the first time in years he had seen Frieza face-to-face. Age had also taken a toll on the alien. Two sharp lines jutted over the tips of his cheekbones. Frieza had not gained or lost any weight, but his skin hung onto his body like damp clothing and looked to be under the hazard of falling off.
"You remember what it was like," Frieza said. At the end of every sentence he spoke he crept closer. "Everyone else has forgotten, but you and I still remember. The fear on people's faces before their lives were crushed like insects in your hands. That once we could control fate. When we were free."
By now Frieza was close enough for his shoulder to touch Cell's arm.
"You'll be the last to go," Frieza admitted sadly. "I can feel it. It will be my father or I who are next … but who first?"
Frieza looked over his shoulder to check on his father. The king had not moved, and was still wrapped up in his cape with his head rested on his knees. Still keeping his eyes on King Cold, Frieza laid his hand on Cell's bicep. This gentle touch stirred confusion in Cell's stagnant consciousness.
"I can't risk turning away and disappearing," Frieza said. "Push me away if you like, but do not wake my father."
Unsure what he meant by that, Cell's mouth opened to say something, but only a sour breath escaped.
Frieza grabbed a hold of Cell's arm. He pushed it over his head like a tree branch and slipped under it. Then, operating both of Cell's arms, Frieza locked himself into an embrace with his back pressed against Cell's chest and waist. Ignorant on how he should react, Cell could only stare while Frieza rubbed his cheek against the arms he puppeteered.
"Do this." Frieza grabbed Cell's hand and placed it on his chest. He had to manipulate his fingers until Cell understood that Frieza wanted him to keep them moving.
As they were locked in their stumbling embrace, Frieza's tail ascended Cell's leg. A thin dampness coated the tail with a sweating shine. Its gentle demeanor had become aggressive as a snake searching for food. It was tightening its constrictions after each length it climbed. Frieza's breathing quickened, and Cell could feel his heartbeat shudder beneath his hand.
"Hhaumm …" Frieza sighed. He guided Cell's hands downward: one for the hip, the other pocketing his rear. He leaned forward, pressing his backside against Cell's groin, and held onto the prison bars for support.
Without Frieza's guidance, Cell was already losing focus on this strange activity. He stared out, longing for the sun to return and rekindle his hatred. Frieza sensed Cell's attention diverting. He straightened his head back, checked on his father, then looked back up to Cell.
"Cell." Frieza's voice was out of breath. The android wondered how the alien had become exhausted so quickly.
The tail, now enveloped in a dripping film, constricted around Cell's waist so tightly that the android let out a small cough. Frieza hoisted himself off the floor, perching his feet on the bars for support as he pressed his body harder against Cell's.
"Move your hips," Frieza said, reaching his hands around Cell's back, digging his nails into the shell. "No-forward and back. There … can you make it a little deer? There! Yes, perfect-just-like-that."
At the mention of the word 'perfect,' Cell's spirit, long trapped in comatose, reanimated with forgotten, but weakened vigor. Though he did not understand what pleasure his thrusting was giving to Frieza, he continued. There was no insertion of any kind, only massaging by way of Cell's groin plate against Frieza's behind. Cell noticed that Frieza's flesh beneath his tail had felt soft at first with consistency of a thin sponge. In not long this area solidified and became firm with fluid. From this angle Cell could not see, but the white skin blushed lilac. Curious over this change, Cell reached around and grabbed Frieza's bare groin to feel the difference. This undirected touch surprised Frieza and he was unable to secure his cry behind his teeth. Frieza's moaning drummed in his ears. A chill rippled down Cell's back like a centipede. He drove his hips harder against Frieza's to relive the sensation.
"Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-oh." Frieza covered his own move to quiet down, but not even his hand could cage his moaning.
Frieza often paused to check that his father's sleep was undisturbed. Each time that he did the wait to do so again was longer. At this point he was also unable to control the volume of his pleasure.
Like an oiled spring from a machine, Frieza's tail rhythmically tightened and loosened around Cell's waist. He hooked his right arm around the bars to keep himself from falling over.
"Cell …" Frieza's body suddenly contorted into a defensive ball. Muscle spasms caused his tail to shiver as its final coil squeezed Cell tightly enough for his armor plates to creak. The white alien fell over, having only the prison bars and Cell still holding his hips keeping him from collapsing onto the floor.
Cell scooped Frieza's upper body over his arm to help him up. He looked over at King Cold and wondered if he should wake him and tell him of his son's behavior.
Void of its energy, Frieza's tail slipped and fell on the floor with a wet smack. This noise woke Frieza from his stupor. With haste he bundled his lifeless tail under his arm.
"We have to go," Frieza said, lowering his voice to a whisper again.
Cell was staring at the mucus left behind on his waist and legs. Fat drippings dangled from the curve of his hips. He pinched off a sample and examined the contents on his thumb and forefinger.
"Hurry." Frieza pulled Cell towards a door in the back of the prison. Within a few feet of the door both of their halos glowed and the door clicked as it unlocked, allowing them to exit.
Down the black hallway ribbed with red lights were jail cells containing more rogue prisoners. Unlike these two, these prisoners had not yet earned their one thousand year access pass to the showers. Some nocturnal prisoners shuffled in the dark to gawk at the two villains as they passed.
"I smell you," said a voice in the dark, followed by a serpentine tongue with three forks flicking out from the bars.
"Shhh!" Frieza spat.
The doors to the showers greeted them at the end of the hallway. Frieza tapped his halo.
"PLEASE STATE THE PASSWORD."
"Quiet!" Frieza whispered. "We need to use the-"
"PLEASE TRY AGAIN: QUIET IS INCORRECT."
"Shh-sh-okay, the password is-"
"PLEASE TRY AGAIN: SHH IS INCORRECT."
"Will you just-"
"PLEASE USE YOUR INSIDE VOICE OR YOU WILL WAKE THE OTHER PRISONERS."
Frieza sighed. He counted to ten backwards in his head as was suggested by his rehabilitation classes.
"Dr. Slump: Volume 1," Frieza said.
"PLEASE PROCEED AND ENJOY YOUR SHOWING EXPERIENCE."
After Frieza pushed Cell through the opening door as quickly as possible the halo added: "PLEASE REMEMBER TO WASH BEHIND YOUR EARS."
As suspected, the showers were empty. Frieza managed to guide Cell to a showerhead next to his own. He turned on the faucets for both showers. Cell did not scrub himself and let the water fall upon him, while Frieza cleaned every area of his body with as much precision as the cheap loofah available could offer.
Still unsure about what had just happened, Cell went over the events prior in his head, trying to piece together what the point of it all had been. Why had Frieza behaved so erratically? Was this the only instance he'd be ask to participate in, or was he expected to endure more nights such as this? He had experienced some pleasing emotions through it all, but Cell felt more satisfaction in plucking the residents of Gingertown like grapes down to its bare vine than he had through this … activity.
"I should be clean now," Frieza said. He scoffed when he looked at Cell's lack of progress and said, "Like a baby …"
It did not take as long to wipe off the mucus off of Cell. Satisfied, Frieza turned off the faucets. From the cubbies Frieza grabbed two towels. HELL was stitched in red on their corners.
"I know that you haven't opened your mouth for centuries," Frieza said as he dried Cell off, "But ... you mustn't tell father what happened."
Cell glared at Frieza. This entire night had been one insensible havoc. If Frieza wanted privacy, what insane notion drove him to act out in public in the first place? What portion of his brain had rotten to cause him to act so foolishly?
Accepting Cell's silence as a promise, Frieza finished drying him off.
They made their return to their prison cell. The other prisoners, having been woken by Frieza's halo earlier, either whistled at them or howled death threats. Their bellowings were quieted down by the prisoners' own halos striking their bodies with lightening.
"PLEASE DO NOT SHOUT AFTER CURFEW," or "PLEASE RETURN TO SLEEP," were the various commands the halos made.
When they returned to their prison, Frieza pushed Cell back in his original place. He went as far as to pose Cell like a mannequin into his original position.
"There, just like before. Remember," Frieza added, pressing his forefinger to his lips, "not a word to father."
Frieza slunk back to his father's side. He curled up into his feline ball, putting in extra effort to have his tail hide his face completely.
Cell grimaced. He looked out into night sky. It's darkness was a deeper pitch than the starry nights on Earth. What a waste of time this night had been, but Cell remembered that he had nothing but time to waste.
There was never another proposition from Frieza during that nightfall. Seventy years had passed before the sun rose again. Any remaining comradeship between the aliens and android had been abandoned. Frieza and King Cold kept to themselves and that little book of imaginary transactions, leaving Cell to his own silent delusions.
"Suppose that my head scientist Orenji," King Cold pondered, "had been right about his discovery of inverted space?"
"Oh, what if." Frieza was sitting on the ground, holding his knees against his chest. With his free hand, he organised pebbles into small circles before flicking them away.
"That sorry chap theorized about the existence of a world beyond black holes," King Cold explained. "Of course, he was executed for suggesting such nonsense and a wasting a generous grant. His research, however, remains in storage. Suppose someone found his papers, polished the rough draft of his theory, and found a way to travel to such a dimension?"
"Uh-huh."
"We don't know where or what inverted space is. Or what it could lead to. Perhaps one day we'll see our ship just outside waiting for us. This underworld exists, so it must exist somewhere."
Frieza replied with a long sigh. He got up and dusted himself off.
"I'm taking a shower," he said.
"But, Son, I'm getting to the most exciting part: what happens if General Mackerel rallies the natives on planet D-AA as soldiers-"
"It's pointless," Frieza said flatly. "Everything is pointless! That book, your ideas- they're not logical, Father! We are stuck in this locker for all of eternity until we're-we're hurled into the same oblivion the others have gone to!"
"Remember your therapy," King Cold said.
"Therapy doesn't mean anything inside a cage!"
Agitated vibrations surfaced from Frieza's halo, followed by warning sparks. He snorted and whipped his tail against the floor. The sharp slap made an echo that stung everyone's ears.
"Ten … nine … eight," Frieza began to count as he made his way to the showers. His voice faded the farther down the hall he went. "Five … four .. three … two …"
Nothing was said for hours afterwards. King Cold paid no mind, but began to speak to Cell when Frieza's absence spanned into endless days.
"He's only throwing a tantrum," King Cold said. "These are nothing compared to the ones he threw as an infant. I have the scars to prove it. He'll be back as soon as he cools down."
Still Frieza did not return. Witnessing the first star reveal itself in the dimming sky, King Cold excused himself and left to search for his son.
"He needs a talking to, that's all," King Cold told himself.
King Cold was gone, but he was quick to return, stepping back inside the prison cell with dragging feet. Grief masked his face, but, having predicted his son's disappearance beforehand, it was diluted with insight. He returned to his corner. Instead of filling his notebook with equations, King Cold began scribbling useless circles.
Between Cell and his highness, the only sound between them was pen on paper.
Night spilled into Hell with a coldness never felt before. If all of Hell's prisoners were still alive, this cold would have killed them, but they were not. Because they were not alive, their lungs swallowed this cold. This cold funneled into the heart, and each pump filled the rooted arteries with ice.
Cell, who had survived space's vacuum without discomfort, was hunched over and holding himself to block away as much of the cold as he could. Everytime he held his jaw to stop its shivering, it would start again the moment he took his hand away. This night spawned an emotion he had never felt before. It was similar to the realization he felt during the seconds of life he had left as his body was destroyed cell-by-cell, molecule-by-molecule. This was torture.
King Cold had wrapped his cape around himself, though it did him no good. The red cloth now had spirals of ice sewn into its threads. His little notebook was set aside, frozen on an open page that had been etched black. Having gone through every conceivable outcome he could imagine for his empire, King Cold had strangled the life out of his fantasy. He stared at Cell.
"The night is here again," he said, "with a vengeance."
The king was polite enough to wait for a reply he knew would not come.
"We're the last ones left." King Cold got up from his corner in the back to sit behind Cell's left side. "I'm curious how they choose who is ready to depart, if that's what's happening at all. Funny enough, when this started happening I imagined myself being one of the next to go. Looks like that wasn't meant to be. I suspect it's because I worried too much about my son being left behind. Not that he wouldn't have been left in uncapable hands …"
Cell's teeth grated together due annoyance as well as the cold. Why must everyone talk? What attraction was there that inspired others to strike conversation when he himself wanted to be left alone?
King Cold's hand pointed out from an opening in his cape.
"There's no reason to share our company in silence. It's been over two thousand years since our deaths, yet I still know nothing about you."
Cell glared at King, wishing he'd hurry up and become bored, shut up, and leave. Instead of backing away, as Cell's stare used to accomplish back when all of the villains were together, King Cold challenged the expression with indifference. King Cold leaned over.
He said with a low voice, "I know what you did that night."
An invisible rope wrapped around Cell's neck and enclosed his windpipe. Cell felt complete exposure. Out of the all the nights that passed within the last two thousand years together, Cell knew precisely which one King Cold had hung like a piece of meat on a hook for display. The king laughed.
"I've forgotten the last time I've seen such shame," he said. He motioned with his forefinger for the android to come closer.
Cell frowned. Who did the king think he was dealing with? Not another of his peons, Cell would make certain to remind him if it came to that. Cell approached and faced the king, each step he took ripped ice from the floor like paper.
"Please, make yourself comfortable." King Cold formed his tail into the shape of a horseshoe. After Cell sat down on the pink cushion, the king took off his cape and wrapped it around Cell like a blanket. To King Cold, this chill was only a mild discomfort.
"Your Dr. Gero wasn't aware of temperatures such as this being possible," King Cold said. "A shame he didn't have more time to further explore our genetics. Our species wasn't awarded the title Frost Demon for no reason."
Being the tallest of the two, King Cold looked down at Cell with a sporting malice. The alien did not appear impatient, but Cell identified that he was biding his time for some unclear reason.
"I must apologize for my son's behavior that night." King Cold rested his chin in his palm. "He is still … immature. More so than anyone else his age. He was overdue for an arranged marriage, but there was never anytime for that at the height of our empire. Had we survived our arrival on Earth, finding a wife who could whip him into shape was next on my to-do list." King Cold frowned as he became lost in his memories.
"My son's masterbation was an embarressment to witness, but, to save face, I kept quiet. No doubt he would have died a second time if he had known what I saw." The king's playful grin reappeared. "But enough about Frieza. He's gone now. It's just you and me now. May I?"
King Cold reached an open hand towards Cell's legs, knowing better than to touch it without permission. Not sure what the alien wanted, Cell lifted his left leg and allowed it to be examined.
"Ah, yes." King Cold gave Cell's calf a gentle squeeze. He rotated the ankle to test the limits of its flexibility while his thumb followed the sharp curve of Cell's sole. "If I had Dr. Gero as one of my scientists, he would have crafted Frieza a superior body. You are, indeed, a perfect specimen.
"To think he not only constructed your final being, but also successfully crafted your previous stages to morph without error. Imagine how many failures he faced within the biomechanics of your design before achieving perfection. You are a marvel."
King Cold's tail carried Cell closer to him. Cell propped one arm out and pressed his hand against the king's chest to keep the space between them from shrinking any further. That night couldn't stop replaying in his head. He connected King Cold's soft touching as identical to his son's from that strange episode. This petting and flattery directed towards him filled him with a confusing and pleasant nausea. The forgotten hunger for energy pained his stomach, a sensation he had not felt since departing from his imperfect forms. Only now he did not know how to fill his belly.
"Would you like to hear something funny? Your armor isn't the same color or shape, but your face," with his thumb and forefinger, King Cold lifted Cell's chin up, "it is the spitting image of my wife's."
Cell focused on King Cold's smile. Its was frozen with confidence that would not melt away. What did he know that Frieza did not? Cell eased his locked arm, allowing the king's tail to hoist him from the floor and close the distance between them. King Cold wrapped his cape like a blanket around the both of them. When Cell realized that King Cold was not only indifferent to this frost, but that his body still furnaced warmth, he latched himself to the king's chest to leech upon the heat. It wasn't until his body had time to warm up that Cell noticed King Cold had slipped his hands underneath the cape blanketing them and was fondling his waist and back.
King Cold's mouth dived into Cell's open neck. He used his tongue to paint the android's jugular before shoveling his lips against the skin. His tail constricted Cell's legs together. The android allowed them to remain tied. Not sure what to do with himself, Cell remembered how Frieza had asked him to touch his chest, so he did the same to the alien. His efforts were rewarded with deep laugh from the king. The hand on Cell's lower back used its fingers to climb up the spine. When King Cold reached the barb responsible for impaling hundreds of people, he grabbed its base and began to rub his fingers around its point.
A vision from Cell's past came to him: Gingertown's life drained away one scream at a time, the town empty and littered with clothing. That forgotten appetite for those simple morsels gurgled in his stomach.
Cell's barb extended and jabbed King Cold's arm. He cried out in alarm, pulled his arm back, and, with his tail still wrapped around the android's hips and legs, held Cell away like a puppy by the scruff. The puncture bled purple. King Cold grinned, then brought Cell back into his reach.
"Cheeky," he said, "What are we to do about that?"
A shrug was the only thing Cell could communicate. His barb began retreating into his back. King Cold managed to grasp it again before it had the chance to withdraw completely.
"No-no. I want to try something," he said.
King Cold leaned over and pressed his mouth against Cell's ear. Hot breath moistened his skin.
"Open it," King Cold said.
Cell turned his ear towards the king. Had he heard that correctly?
King Cold's grip on Cell's barb became a threatening squeeze. "This," he said and repeated, "Open it."
The syringe point of the barb expanded into a syphon. King Cold's fingers traced the rim of Cell's open barb. An impression of invasion startled Cell out of his hunger-lust. He yanked his barb out of King Cold's grasp and extended it out of reach.
"My apologies," he said. "I should have warned you. Come on, don't pout. Bring it back." King Cold grabbed at the white segments of Cell's barb and was able to bring it back with weak reluctance. As if pressed by a button, the moment King Cold's fingers dug into the pinpoint of Cell's barb it opened and allowed entrance. Cell closed his eyes and laid himself upon the king's chest, focusing on the circular diving movements King Cold made with his fingers.
"Seems like you're enjoying yourself this time," the king noticed. "How much can you handle? Perhaps you'd like me to be a bit rougher?" King Cold grabbed Cell's upper leg and raked his nails down to the knee. This attempt at pain amused Cell. He returned the delivery by wrapping his arms around the king's neck burying his nails into his majesty's shoulder. Cell began mimicking the king's previous actions with his own mouth by kissing, biting, licking the neck, face, and mouth. He surprised by his feelings of involvement and willingness.
"And if I go deeper?" King Cold said when his mouth was finally free from Cell's. His fingers disappeared down to the knuckle inside of the barb. This movement, followed by a hooking motion the king made with his fingers, caused Cell's spine to flex forward. The cold cut into his diaphragm as his breaths became quicker. The barb's instinct to swallow prey overtook it and it began to inhale the king's hand down to the thumb.
"Careful," King Cold said, withdrawing his hand. A string of mucus connected from his palm to the barb. "You don't want to bite more than you can chew. You'll choke."
Ignoring his own warning, King cold returned his hand inside the barb. The barb's orifice expanded and bit down like wild animal promising not to let its prey go again. As King Cold petted the undulating muscles inside the barb, Cell twisted and tightened his grip around the king's neck. Phantom bodies were were struggling down his barb. They became tangled with the swallowed tormented souls in his core. Cell slunk down to King Cold's chest, unable to control his squirming as pleasure and pain, joined together like the jaws of pliers, twisted his insides.
"Do you want more?" King Cold asked quietly.
Cell didn't know what he wanted. He clawed helplessly at King Cold's shoulders and smothered his face in the alien's chest. A pitiful moan and nod followed.
King Cold laughed kissed the Cell's black cranium. He hoisted Cell up in the air, then heaved him onto the ground. The freezing floor was sharp enough to make Cell gasp. Both of his feet were compressed by the king's right foot and tail, while his wrists were snatched and bound behind him in a powerful grip. This switch in roles from predator to prey alarmed Cell, but he found himself delighting in the fear his own victims would have felt. He felt King Cold remove his hand from the barb. He looked over his shoulder, but was met by King Cold using the same hand to press his face against the ground. Cell could smell himself from the wetness of the king's fingers.
"Beg," King Cold said. He pressed his hand harder against Cell's cheek and temple. "I want your first words to be, 'please.'"
Only a moan came out of Cell's opening mouth. He struggled to shift himself out from King Cold's weight. It was not until now that he realized how much of his strength had waned in the past two thousand years. This weakness shocked Cell, but his heightened vulnerability brought the hunger from his past forms.
"Please …" Cell's voice cracked. More clearly he said it again. "Please." The barb opened like a flower.
A satisfied smile widened Cold's mouth. He leaned over and stamped his lips against Cell's, covering most of his white face. The red cape slid off the king's back. King Cold grabbed Cell by the back of the neck and pulled him on top of the cape to use as their blanket. Moving his body on top of Cell, he trapped the android in a cage of arched limbs. King Cold's tail unravelled itself from Cell's legs. It's purple headed point snaked along up between Cell's legs, then stopped at the curve the back just beneath the craving barb.
"This will feel strange," King Cold admitted.
Cell wondered what he meant until the tail slithered inside the barb.
A noise akin to a mouse's squeak came out of Cell. The tail inched its way deeper inside past the contradictory walls of muscle that were resisting and welcoming. A fullness came within Cell that reminded him of his absorption of the androids, but their physicality was fleeting as his body quickly dissolved and divided their parts into pure energy before appreciation of their wholeness could be made.
King Cold waited for any negative reaction from Cell. It did not show, but for the whole time he had been cautious, and did not expect things to escalate so quickly. If anything were to annoy Cell, King Cold knew that the android could hurt him in unearthly ways. He tested his limits and began to nudge his tail inside and out. It pleased him to see Cell's eyes close, and to hear a hum of pleasure from the android's nostrils. Sure that nothing else could go wrong and that he was safe, King Cold allowed his tail to thrust at its own delight. He began humping Cell in rhythm to his tail's movement. King Cold slipped his hand down to Cell's crotch. It did not engorge with blood as he expected, but he found the support helpful and Cell did not seem to mind.
"Deeper," Cell pleaded softly.
"Yes?" King Cold smiled. He pushed himself inside of Cell until his tail was swallowed down to its thickest girth.
"Aahh."
"Do you want me to go faster?" King Cold said into Cell's ear.
"Yes."
Like a sewing needle, King Cold's tail stitched pleasure into Cell's growing pleasure with every spurring pump. There would be pauses where King Cold would stop and suddenly twist his tail in a corkscrew motion, then return to its vigorous drilling. King Cold's lips bared back as he concentrated, the green from Cell's armor reflected in his teeth. No matter how hard he pushed Cell was safe from serious pain. Wherever the tail disappeared to, it could not impact with any delicate flesh as it was guided by self conscious fibers with more sense than Cell's drunk with pleasure mind currently had.
With an effortless scoop King Cold scooped Cell's waist under his arm and adjusted so the android's knees propped his rear in the air. With his heavy thrusts, King Cold burnished Cell's backside with the fluid that had dripped from his barb.
Cell's hand reached out in search of something to grab, but he could only gather frozen dust and pebbles. King Cold reached out and his palm eclipsed Cell's arm with a squeeze.
"Please … please," was all Cell could manage to say. His vocabulary was lost in the ruins of his mind.
"I'm almost finished," King Cold said. He pushed Cell's wings apart to make room for his knees to move up. He also used the wings as handles help guide Cell's body and accentuate the tail's force. Now King cold was unable to keep back his own moaning.
"You're beautiful," King Cold breathed. He hooked Cell's chin and lifted the android's upper half to his own, burying his mouth into the muscles of Cell's neck. "You're mine. I'll have you forever."
The king's breaths were interrupted by a sudden intake of air. Several quick pumps from the tail was followed by a single shove in an effort to fit its entirety inside of Cell. Simultaneously, after King Cold vocally expressed his claim, Cell was overcome with the sensation that his body had divided into two. It felt that both sides condensed and pushed against the border that divided them down the middle, bringing Cell's pleasure to a height never felt before. After his delight peaked, the relish melted and poured into his veins, still pleasing as it faded away.
Cell fell over, trying to slow down his panting. He touched his chest. Having no organs and a body made up entirely of gray cells, the android found amusement in feeling all of the cells within him beat like thousands of small hearts.
The cold was becoming irritating again. He reached out for the cape, but his hand touched stone. Nothing was there. King Cold was no longer behind him. Cell was sitting on the floor. The fluids on his back were already turning white with frost and forming sharp needles of ice. Only his breath and no one else's wisped like a ghost from his face. Cell was alone.
Alone.
"No." Cell made an attempt to get up, but his foot slipped, causing him to fall on his knees. He growled and pushed himself up again, regaining his balance. "No-no. You … you can't do this!" He began to pace in circles, and search up and down for the phantom that snatches his comrades from nowhere and everywhere. All of his body had become a frozen blue, save for his bloody pink eyes.
"Do you know who you're dealing with? Do I need to remind you that I am Cell, the most powerful android in this world and the next?"
Cell noticed the iron bars silhouetted black against the night sky. They had always kept him away and were unbreakable. Tonight there was something different about them. A weakness made itself apparent, and escape seemed possible, though Cell couldn't explain why or prove this was true except in one way. A mad smile appeared.
"You'll never take me."
A hollow bang echoed into the night after Cell flew and hammered his shoulder against the bars. After impact the black strips of iron vibrated in pain. He hit the bars again. After the third time Cell had to stop. A crack split his shoulder plate into three pieces. Blood seeped out, immediately crystallizing into purple flowers. The pain in his shoulder could not be singled out among the freezing points the night acupunctured into his body. But In this moment he could not feel the pain. He had made a dent in the bars.
Lightning shot out of Cell's halo. When Cell began to laugh he could feel electricity stringing through his teeth.
"PLEASE ABSTAIN YOURSELF FROM VANDALIZING HELL'S PROPERTY," the halo warned, shooting down more lightning bolts. Electric irritation gritted within the halo's ring. Being a unique specimen, the halos' security never had as much effect on Cell for reasons that were still being efforts also had no greater power than the night's merciless cold.
"Do you know what the first thing I'll do when I escape?" Cell lifted his hand. A sphere of red kai ballooned from his palm and illuminated the prison cell. It propelled outward towards the bars, expanding its size in seconds, and exploded upon contact. When the red smoke parted, Cell saw that the dent had increased by half an inch.
"PLEASE ABSTAIN YOURSELF FROM VANDALIZING HELL'S PROPERTY. SECURITY IS ON ITS WAY."
"When I escape-"
Cell rushed his body against the bars. The black iron was beginning to curl beneath him like snakes ready to strike.
"I will destroy everything."
Again he rushed the bars.
"I will destroy this underworld."
Again he rushed.
"I will destroy the living world."
Again.
"And I will destroy all that exists-"
Again.
"Until-"
Again.
"There is nothing left."
Cell had to stop and breathe. His breathing was deep and choked him with cold and dust. His entire arm was a bleeding meadow of purple icicles. Cell's halo, now a crown of sparkling electricity, rained a worthless storm upon his temple.
"PLEASE DO NOT CAUSE FURTHER DAMAGE TO HELL'S-"
Cell bashed the bars again, interrupting the halo each time it attempted to speak until it sounded like a broken toy.
"PLEASE DO NOT-"
"PLEASE DO NOT-"
"PLEASE-"
"PLEASE-"
"PLEASE-"
"PLEA-"
Silence.
There was no more rattling from the bars. No more shouting from the halo. No more Cell.
The prison was empty.
Like a crow preening its black wing, the dented prison bars curled and folded back into their original solid stalks of iron. A cavernous moan escaped the prison doors. It was hungry for a new crew of prisoners, but it only had to be patient.
The sun began to rise.