Fandom: Dragon Ball Z
Characters: Toma/Bardock
Word Count: 170
Warnings: dead dudes during death are distasteful

Summary:Then, because the alternative is worse;Toma punches the fuckwit.

Notes: ancient drabble babble

In the dark, Toma could almost tell himself whispering scattered words of adoration would be okay. (it isn't, he knows, not if he wants to keep doing this, fumbling hands and ragged moans and oh god, he does want)

The words expand in his throat and he can't breathe, his tongue swells in his mouth, it's all he can do to choke down needy whines, and his throat clicks wetly as he swallows his own desperation.

There's a red hot brand constricting his chest, like odes and curses and things he'll never say and things he should've said, but the Bardock grabs his face, flushed with exertion, and snarls guttural and deep, "Fucking fuck me,before I do it myself,"

Toma snarls back, the brand loosening in intervals like Bardock's pulse against his neck. It's not freeing, not at all, Toma still feels caged and choked, but suddenly he feels steadied, cemented down. "Shut up. idiot, I don't want to hear your stupid voice," The words are petty and petulant like a child throwing a tantrum, but it empowers him with a brittle and temporary strength that floods his veins, and Toma tangles his fists in Bardock's hair, rearing him back until his neck is bent painfully and clumps of hair are coming loose.

Bardock laughs, open and rough, the way he's been since dying. Death has fitted itself across his shoulders like a mantel of pride, like living was never worth as much as the meaninglessness inherent in martyrdom. And then he fucks his hips back on Toma's cock, easy as breathing. Toma grunts, his mind stuttering, filled only with sensation of hotslicktightgoodfuckBARDOCK. It's a dirty fucking move, and every bit like Bardock; messing Toma up in one move or less and sending him back to starting line, weaker than before.

It pisses Toma off.

It pisses him off that he's in love with the fucker,that he died for that piece of shit, he fought and lived for Bardock, but never once has he had control. Even now with his cock splitting the shorter man open, he's not in control. Every move, every action is dictated by Bardock's want and desire

It's maddening

"C'mon, hurry." Bardock pants, that irritating shit eating grin stretched firmly across his face." What happened? Did you lose it?"

Toma scowls. "I'm pretty sure I said shut the fuck up, bastard," Still smirking, Bardock languidly stretches out, splaying his body like a tableau, all glistening flesh and carnal desire. Swallowing around the rush of heat, Toma steels himself, unwilling to just latch onto the obvious bait. He pulls out, finally wiping that smug look from Bardock's face, but gives him no time to complain, roughly flipping Bardock over to his side, shoving his face into the earthen ground.