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Warnings: Err…yaoi.  And…angst!  And swear words.  Enjoy.

italics should look like this

Vegeta's thoughts

//Gohan's thoughts//

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teaser Style

His stomach hurled up like a fish in dirty water, and he breathes deep and pushes it out of his attention.  He had hoped to find some peace out here, but the buzzing inside his own head and blood, and the change of scenery, the subtle shift in smell and space proving more than enough to know him off his center.  He was so weak, so turned around inside himself it wasn't worth mentioning.  He didn't want to think about it.

And that damn onna wouldn't leave him alone. 

Damn it all.

His body heaved, and he fought to keep himself inside of it.

He was fighting a lot lately.

He wasn't getting much stronger though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Singing and Flashback Saga Style

…Emphasis on Saga Style

"A thousand years, a thousand more…A thousand times a million doors to eternity," a thin voice carries over the wind, the words and tune scattered and cut on the currents.  The boy sings on, seeking company and change in the wasteland.

*

He couldn't remember if he made a promise, but he felt like he lied.

Gohan had spent most of the first day swimming and exploring with short, frequent interludes of daydreaming, as there was only so much he could with ice. 

Everything was pretty flat where he was, and Gohan's capsule house was placed on the earth after he had burned the ice and snow away.  It wasn't nearly as cold as it was in winter, the temperature keeping to a little above freezing.  Depending on how far he flew, he could find glaciers a couple miles high, and even the occasional herd of deer and the lone wolf, but Gohan was pretty much on his own. 

It was snowy, basically.  Snowy and gray.  The sun was caught in the interval between eternal day and eternal night, settling for a foggy constant twilight at all times of the day. 

It was easy to get lost too, because nearly hill and every valley looked like one another to his inexperienced eyes.  Adding to that, the sun never actually set or really moved, and it was never dark enough to tell where the North Star was.  He couldn't go too far before coming hopelessly lost.

Gohan had gone underwater searching for any signs of life, flying into the air and flaring his ki to SSJ sometimes for warmth before diving down again. 

After his throat began to ache and he couldn't feel beneath his knees he quit.  He found some electric blankets in the bedroom of the Capsule house, and was familiar enough with the model to know that they were hand-placed. 

Someone was looking out for him.

He used them every night from then on.

That was on the first day and night.

*

"I may have lived a thousand lives…a thousand times," he paused and took in a breath, "An endless turning stairway climbs," he murmurs as he scans the glaring white hills.  A blizzard was picking up; given another 15 or 30 minutes and it would be impossible to see or find anything for the snow. 

Good.  That was good.

*

He had broken the promise he didn't think he had made. 

He went back to West City.

He had waited though—he tried not to think about it, and it wasn't until between the second day and third morning that he realized why he should, beside the obvious reason of seeing and avoiding Vegeta.

Gohan never told his mom he was going away.  So he went to go do that.

He'd meant to tell his mom, but then realized she wouldn't understand easily and wouldn't let him go again.  And then he'd have to go without her permission and she'd be mad at him forever, and wouldn't let him back in when he could come back.  Then he realized he could tell Goten to tell her, who would be playing with Trunks, because he was always playing with Trunks and they were usually at Capsule Corp.

He had stopped flying and meant to walk the rest of the way and it wasn't until he stopped and listened to his breathing that he realized he'd been running. 

Next he realized it was dark, sometime in the morning, and Goten, if here, would be asleep. 

And he realized Vegeta would be too.

He hadn't stayed though. 

He…it wasn't…He hadn't stayed.  What if Vegeta had found out?  What if he saw him?

//what if he does?  so long as I see him…//

He hadn't stayed.

That was on the third morning.  In the early night dark of the second day, but still the third day.

*

"To a tower of souls..."  He pauses, the spacey blank expression fading a little for a more pensive one.  He blinks once, and then shrugs his shoulders.  What did it matter if the verses were out of order anyway? 

"I could shed another million tears, a million breaths…A million names but only one truth to face," he murmurs quietly, eyes still sweeping the immutable landscape.

*

He hadn't actually done anything.

To anyone. 

Not the way Vegeta was stating.

And he hadn't even wanted to do anything, whatever Vegeta might say.

Gohan paused his thinking for a moment, considered, then plunged on ahead.  He was right.  He was right and Vegeta was wrong, and that was all that counted. 

Never could he even begin to imagine to do anything-like Vegeta was implying- with anyone, not even Videl and certainly not a guy. 

He missed Videl.  Whatever Vegeta might say, she was the one he liked, ever really, really liked in almost-that-way.

All he had ever really wanted from her was a smile, a laugh.  She did have a nice laugh, when she was relaxed and not tense like always.  Sort of tinkling and—copper.  Bright copper.  Or magnesium.  Yeah, a magnesium colored laugh.  And she had ambition, a great deal of ambition. 

She had mastered flying way faster than anyone else he knew, and she wanted to be the best fighter ever, even better than him.  She lived for the challenge.  He liked that.  He had admired that.  He could relate to that.

And she had a sense of justice that had competed with his own.  She cared about what happened to other people.  As long they weren't bothering him, Vegeta didn't care about anyone.

He'd never…he had thought about kissing, but never really seriously.  If she wanted to.  But that was it.

He couldn't envision doing the—other stuff with anybody, he wouldn't even know about it if they hadn't made him take those classes in secondary school.  He'd spent most of the class time with his eyes averted while the other boys goggled over the pictures.  Color pictures, too.

And Vegeta thought he'd do it with him.  How? 

The thought disgusted him and puzzled him so much he stayed up for a long times at night thinking about it.  Wondering how it all worked, and where was the drive for it.  It was so messy and impractical, and how could anybody stop cringing long enough to finish it.

That was on the first night and second day.

*

"I may be numberless…I may be innocent…I may know many things…I may be ignorant."  He pulls the electric blanket higher around his shoulders.  He is not wearing a shirt.

*

He missed her, but it really wasn't in him to mourn.  He would always remember, but he would never really mourn.  Ever since Piccolo went…and his father…

The thing with being open with everybody was that you really weren't close to anybody.  Not really.  He had lost enough people to know that it hurt to make friends, to love people.  Even if they could be put back with a wish and a few words, it still hurt when they left.  Better if he kept everyone on the same affection-level.

His shyness gave him enough breathing and defensive space, and he was content to keep it that way.

Vegeta was right though, in a way.  Kind of.  Sort of.  In a way, after his fashion.  Well…not really, but it was hard to argue about anything with him.

But Vegeta was right about one thing: The only way not to hurt anybody was to stay away. 

Gohan didn't want to hurt anybody.  He really couldn't remember hurting or hunting anything, but he knew he did.  Sometimes the blood was still warm on him when he woke up.  Sometimes there were pieces, shiny bits of pink and dark red.  Most of the times, he didn't bother to even look.  He didn't like to look.

He didn't remember 'hunting' Videl, like Vegeta said he had.  And he could think clearer now.  He really couldn't remember, but he could think clearer.  On the narrow swings between Heat adrenaline rushed clarity and drugged up muggy objectiveness, he could nearly do both.

He—could almost remember hunting Vegeta. 

Especially at night.

He had remembered fragments the fourth morning, like the memories were a dream, after spending some of the previous night on long tall glasses of cold water and dozens and dozens of Bulma's pills, as many and as much as he could force down. 

He still woke up lost in the snow with his legs aching. 

He would wake up every morning after the third night outside lost, cold, and sometimes bleeding on either his feet or arms.  His throat was often raw, and his voice vanished. He felt sick, like he was coming down with a cold or pneumonia.

And he thought of Vegeta.

He remembered running.  Running so quickly it was almost like flying.  He…didn't really remember what happened.  He wanted to know, but he didn't want to remember.  He remembered seeing shades of black and gray, and a glowing white light, a smell so strong…and red, almost.  A rusty, organic-metallic smell.  Iron.  Blood. 

He remembered smelling blood until he thought he was drowning in it and…he hadn't been disgusted.  He should have been, but he still wasn't.

He had just felt…secure.  And relaxed.  That night, with the darkness and iron blood in his mouth and hair.

He couldn't remember why he felt that way, couldn't find the logic or motives behind it, only that he liked it.  He found himself thinking it over more often.

That was on the drugged-up lucid part of the fourth day's afternoon, which found him pondering his own mind.

*

"Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands…Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands", Gohan shifts on his spot in the doorway in a more comfortable position to lean against it.  He sighs, smiles, and continues to watch the snow whirl.

*

Then there was the third night. 

Every night after it followed the same pattern, increasingly worse as time went on, but it was always the third night that stood out in his mind.  That's when it started. 

That's where it all began.

Where it really hurt.

He had woken up in the middle of the night on the ice outside with only his socks on, icicles and bits of snow stuck in his hair and on his skin.  He didn't even have his drawers on, and his thighs and genitals were freezing and chafed by the ice and wind.  He wasn't exactly sure how he had gotten out there, or even how long he had been there, but Gohan had a pretty good idea of where he was trying to get.  To whom.

He had gotten lost on the way back to the Capsule house, his home, and couldn't even scrounge up the energy to fly.  It took him forever to find his house, and he had walked into it by accident.

He spent the following fourth morning on the living room floor, exhausted and drugged into unconsciousness interspersed with quiet musing and had awoken in the night in tears, a serious migraine, and his throat festering. 

He hadn't liked that. 

And he still went back into the night, into the snow in the fourth night.  He hadn't wanted to, kept thinking and fighting with everything he had, but he had still gone back into the cold.  Into the dark.

The attacks followed a certain structure, similar to hypertension or anxiety attacks.  Gohan would start blinking faster, his heart rate and breathing would go up and he would start pacing around the house, looking for something to do, scribbling doodles in his notebooks and fooling around in the kitchen, pacing from his room to the living room to the kitchen back to his room over and over again until he got lost inside his own small house. 

He would sometimes end up punching holes through the walls and nearly breaking down the door to get outside.  To run.  To run to what or to run away from what he wasn't sure, but he had to run.  He had to go.

He couldn't stop pacing.  He couldn't stop thinking.  He had no one to talk to, and it was so damn quiet with the only wind and the sound of his own voice to keep him company.  He was going to go insane like this.  Gohan didn't like talking to himself, it seemed wrong.  He was also bored and lonely beyond belief.

The silence chafed at his mind.  The cold chafed at his body.  The loneliness chafed at his soul.  Gohan was just chafed all over, including his balls from when they had been frozen over outside.

The pills took him out of reality, cooled his blood.  He didn't like being dependent on drugs.

Sometimes he was ravenous, and couldn't force himself to eat, and when he could he vomited everything he put down.  He was always hungry and rarely eating.  Vegeta had given him food.  He couldn't eat it.

Sometimes he was furious, blazingly furious at nothing and sometimes he cried for hours on end.

He wrote in his notebooks a lot, doodled in the margins.

He'd feel the fire come on, and had awoke sweaty in bed or on the couch with a burning in his neck and limbs and a cloud lodged in his chest cavity.  He'd grabbed the pills as soon as he felt it coming, had chugged down the bottle and a lot of little white capsules had fallen to the floor, his hands were shaking that badly.  He'd spit a couple out of reflex, and had swallowed some.

He still went out, flying as fast as he could while the ice blew and cut into his skin, then he'd been dizzy and he'd fell, and he remembered putting out his hands to stop the fall.  He woke up some time later; half covered in snow and cold, and had dragged himself home after getting lost twice.  He fell dead asleep all of the fifth day, waking up when he heard a sound repeated over and over again, like a telephone ringing.  It was his voice.  It was Vegeta's name.  Tears sat still on his eyes.  He wasn't sad at all.  He was just…tired. 

So very tired.

There he ended the fifth night, ebbing into the sixth morning, crying into the floor, lost inside the house Vegeta had thrust at him.

*

"I could be cannon food…destroyed a thousand times…Reborn as fortune's child…to judge another's crimes," he chants softly to himself, as a mantra.  He had mentioned before to—someone at school, the name escaped him now, that that particular lyric always reminded him of his father. 

They hadn't understood.

Gohan wasn't expecting them to.

*

He was tired. 

He was very tired of being lost.

So…

This was a new experience. 

His body was going through changes he didn't understand, and Vegeta should be here to see what was unusual and what wasn't.  Saiyan blood adapted quickly to new chemicals; Gohan had learned the hard way that no amount of aspirin could take away insomnia, no matter how tense he was about the upcoming test.  It was only a matter of time before Bulma's pills wore off.  And then he would go off again.

It wasn't his fault this was happening to him now, in this fashion.

His were Saiyan genes, and Vegeta had known about it before and he hadn't said anything because of apathy or for the pleasure of seeing Gohan squirm. 

So while Gohan was suffering in the ice and snow, Vegeta was living the high society life he liked.

Well, it wouldn't be just him that would suffer if something went wrong.  It would be everybody else too; Vegeta and Bulma (mine) especially.  He shouldn't have to take care of this on his own.  Vegeta should be here.  Vegeta should help him.  Vegeta should help him.

Vegeta probably wouldn't want to.

But Gohan could see his way around that.  There had to been lots of things Vegeta hadn't wanted him to do that he had, like saving Vegeta's life and talking to him and living and being stronger than him and making Vegeta apologize to him.  That one time.  When they had been more than mere equals, and Gohan had been in control and Vegeta hadn't.

…like rain on crystal on air like snow on stars and space and dark the darkest beauties…

Gohan blinked.

That was definitely something.

Vegeta was such a liar.

But Gohan was a liar too, and he and Vegeta both knew it.

Vegeta was going to be with him, not to—do anything of the physical nature, but just because he should just be there. 

Gohan wanted him there.  With him.  What Vegeta did or said after wasn't important, as long as he stayed. 

But how to keep him?  How to manipulate him? 

Gohan tightened his grip around his knees, and rocked himself back and forth in the corner.  He breathed in deep, hard, and continued rocking. 

He had a good idea how, but going through with it was another thing.  This was Vegeta, after all, and he always got angry really easy, so it was always really easy to manipulate him into getting angry, it was making him do what you wanted that was tricky.  Vegeta used the same tactic like pro, so he wasn't likely to fall for it, but Gohan was running out of options. 

He—wanted to, but he didn't want to, except he did and he was going to, only he wasn't, and in the late night darkness and dream reality, in the high chemical frenzy delirium fairyland asylum he lived in, he found himself in, it didn't seem so bad.

That was somewhere around 3 in the morning on the 6th day.  Or the 11th one.  Or even the  Bobth.  Or maybe around 3 at night.

Time had begun to blur. 

*

"Or wear this pilgrim's cloak, or be a common thief… I've kept this single faith, I have but one belief," Gohan breathed in deep, preparing for the big finale to the song, never mind that he was always a little-lot off key and rushed the final line.

*

The sixth night.

He really hadn't meant to go back.  He had planned it, but he really hadn't meant it.

But it seemed like one minute he was outside the gates to CC and then he was climbing the gates with a stealth and agility and silence that was so completely alien to him it was frightening. 

No ki, no footsteps, not even his bones creaked or muscles clicked.  His clothes didn't rustle-he wasn't wearing much anyway-and the ground seemed to give him leeway, like it would a shade. 

Silent.  Smooth.  Completely. 

He was in the graceless age, a hybrid of races, the dominant of which didn't know the meaning of quiet.  But…he wanted to see him.  Make sure he was OK.  Make sure he was still real

He just wanted to see him.  And he could be quiet for that.  He could be anything for that.  He could do anything for that.

Somehow, he knew exactly where Vegeta was.

His hands pressed against the cool smoothness of the windowpane and stared in.  His skin was burning, his hands feverish and dry against the glass.

Vegeta slept shirtless and alone, the blanket thrown around his waist; face beautifully relaxed and tranquil, yet still regal.  His arms were curled in front of him, fingers curled and relaxed on the bed. 

Tinkering and a tiny amount of ki and the window open silently, the boy leaning in and perched on the windowsill, quietly observing the muscles and ki-level of the man before him.  His nostrils flared, breathed in the scent of sweat and anger and Vegeta and age.  Of gray fatigue. 

He breathed it in and absorbed the sight with his eyes…and then entered.

He stepped in as silently as a thief, as a hunter as a tiger in the dark in the dark of the night hunting his prey hunting his prey stalking over the carpet

through the dark through the shadows where he can't see you in the shadows in the dark and watching his face and

don't let him see you don't let him run(!), he can't run, don't let him see

he's so beautiful he is mine he's mine he's mine now he wears my mark wears it open wears it so

sleeping

take him take him take him take him now while he can't run while he can't fight (but he can fight, he fights beautifully, like a god) take him now now now NOW-

-but wait.

He didn't want to, not yet

--NOW!

//no //

-!-

//wait//

-what-

//he will come//

-why-

//he wears my mark//

-how long-

//he wears it open//

-so-

//for anyone to see//

-…mine-

Gohan's eyes narrowed in thought, shining in the dark with a predatory shimmer, his actions momentarily paused.

-he will come-

Gohan's temperature had dropped a bit, his head cleared, and his senses eased back into normal.  He shook his head, a bit surprised to be so close to Vegeta, halfway up on his bed.  He was…very close to Vegeta.

Gohan froze; his eyes locked on the other man who claimed to be his mate and threatened his life, the mate he himself had claimed in a rush of grief and anger.  And he had felt a rush of blood, heat, and memories. 

Darkness.  Fear.  Regret.

It had been the memories, ultimately, that had scared him to sense.

He looked at the lips the thin hard lips cold and unloving

always

they would never care

they would never care

but

he remembered the feel he remembered the feel just barely of those lips the way they'd touched his and pressed his and the

quiet piano silhouette against the moon light

he remembered the feel just just just the

feel

the pleading the pleading the begging the hope and fear and he just barely

remembered the hunger and fire great and greater than his own but

so DEEPLY hidden it might take forever to take it out and dive in that wonderful sea of colossal desire

and he couldn't remember but he could and

he wanted he wanted to feel those lips again he wanted it again and he could see the other's torso

his skin

his chest  that lay enticing and cool and

his soul like fire

beautiful

deadly

matched so perfectly with his own

two demons

one in the dark one in rough hard light

he was hungry his prey bore his mark it was his it was his and his alone and he could do it he could and the other would let him

beg him just like he'd kissed him

and he could pull the sheet down sheet down down to the ground and the floor and could see everything everything that belonged to him everything that he wanted it was his-

-but-

-but he didn't know he didn't really know it wouldn't be the same what if, what if, what if,

if he really didn't know what if his own(mine)

didn't know he was it wouldn't be the same if he didn't know

it wouldn't be right(rape)

he had to be taught he could be taught he was strong(the First)

strong enough he was smart(worthy)

he could take it and he would come to him come to him come to him

in his arms

in his bed under him

in his body

in his mind and soul and it would really be his come to him come to him given time give it time he will come

he will come

Flits and fragments ribboned past his mind, the dark gray blurry blueness and the light…piano playing a tune.  Jazz, or blues, but the style was almost classical. 

He looked down at Vegeta from his place very close to him, and could smell his own scent strong in the room.

Vegeta would know he'd been there.

-let him he will come-

So it wouldn't matter much if he stayed a little longer.  Just a little.  So he could see him. 

Gohan sat on the floor next to the window after climbing carefully off Vegeta, and kept his eyes on him the whole time. 

He really would have to do something really nice for Vegeta later, something to pay him back.  This was an embarrassing situation for himself, supposedly attracted to another guy; he couldn't contrive what it was like for Vegeta, with his pride and dignity, to the object of his insincere affections.

--no!—

Without Vegeta, he'd probably still be hunting and killing things, be a complete slave to biology and hormones until his father stopped him, and Gohan tried not to think about that. 

The boys at school only had to worry about acne and squeaky voices.  He had one hell of a squeaky voice.  It burst people's head open.

Gohan blushed.

Vegeta was rubbing off on him, now he was even swearing in his head.  And that was a bit too brutally practical to be his voice. 

But at least Vegeta hadn't told anyone yet; it would be too embarrassing for him to explain, Gohan hoped.  And he hadn't told his father.  Gohan would've known if he had.

He was pretty sure Vegeta didn't like him, and seemed a little disgusted with his preoccupation with his dad.

Vegeta was in love with, or attracted to anyway, Bulma (-mine!-), and except maybe being good with maths they had nothing in common and Vegeta really didn't like anybody else.

Vegeta yelled at him all the time for not training or exercising his power enough.  Gohan was pretty sure Vegeta didn't like him for not being aggressive enough, but he knew he could be aggressive enough in battle when he needed to. 

Vegeta knew that; he'd been on the receiving end once or twice.  Vegeta should like that.  A little, anyway.  Maybe not. 

Even if he didn't like him he was still helping him, going out of his way, and Gohan didn't have anybody else to go to, not even Piccolo.  He couldn't explain it, no matter how many times he had rehearsed it in his head before he had gone to Vegeta.  He just couldn't explain it to Piccolo. 

He couldn't face him anymore than he could face his father.  One of the things Piccolo admired about him was his innocence, his purity, and he wanted to keep that image as long as possible.

With Vegeta, Gohan had nothing to lose.

With Vegeta, Gohan was kind of safe.

Not much, but a little more than with his father or Piccolo.

Vegeta didn't really admire anything about him that he let on, although he thought Gohan was too circumspect most of the time with the power he, Vegeta, didn't have. 

Vegeta knew he wasn't innocent; Gohan had caught Vegeta too many times smirking at him whenever he really got pissed off and just started beating the crap out of somebody like there was no tomorrow. 

Occasionally, that aforesaid person was Vegeta, and he still thought the whole thing was funny as hell.  Vegeta saw him for what he really was; he had nothing to lose with telling him his secret.

If Vegeta hadn't helped him he'd really be screwed.  He really was the best choice, besides his herital knowledge.  His sarcasm helped keep things in perspective; Gohan kept worrying about falling into depression.  It was so cold out here.  And quiet.  And he was kind of funny.  Not that Gohan actually laughed in his presence, but he thought about it later on. 

A part of Gohan's mind wondered if maybe he wasn't just analyzing just a little too deeply, and instead fabricating facts that weren't really there.  He shoved that part away.  This was Vegeta, after all.  Gohan was safe. 

One couldn't really gloss over his good qualities, because he didn't have many good qualities to begin with. 

One of the few people who actually said what he thought, and didn't worry about losing his innocence. 

If Vegeta actually did something good, it was because he got something out of it, or just because he felt like it. 

Gohan and his dad…sometimes he wondered if they just did things because no one else would.  No one else felt like it.  Like taking out the trash. 

Saving the earth. 

Sometimes Gohan wondered if his dad and he did good things because it was just right.  Because they were trying to measure up to something.  Because maybe they were trying to prove to the earth that they weren't bad and they could be accepted.

And then Gohan would wonder why they wanted to prove they weren't bad.  What did it matter?  They knew they were good, so why did they have to prove it to people who didn't really know them?

And then Gohan knew that he wasn't supposed to be having these types of thoughts.  Goku wouldn't approve much.

Vegeta never tried to measure up to anything.  He just wanted to be the strongest.  He didn't care about being good.  He didn't care about being accepted.

They had both helped and awed the gods, but the gods had never really helped them.  They said they couldn't, but then they had never really tried either.

Sometimes…sometimes Gohan thought Vegeta wasn't afraid of anything.  His dad wasn't afraid of anything either, and Gohan wasn't afraid either.  Except his mom.  They were both terrified of his mom.

Gohan balanced his chin on his arms wrapped around his knees, his legs cramping because of the tight jeans he had forced them into.  He didn't know what he was thinking when he put those on... But anyway.  

He wasn't much afraid of Vegeta.  He was pretty sure Vegeta didn't like him.  He was pretty sure that Vegeta wasn't afraid of him, because he wasn't afraid of any—his eyes darted to the bruise on the other's neck. 

—Vegeta wasn't afraid of anything.  Vegeta was always in control.  Vegeta always knew what to do, and it usually meant killing someone or blowing something up or shouting really loud.

He was completely dependent on Vegeta for everything, which he recognized as unhealthy and risky and a little debasing, but he wasn't sure what to do about it.  Vegeta encompassed his whole world now.  And he was just a minor footnote in Vegeta's book of upstart brats.

That…wasn't right.  It was unequal. 

Gohan's eyes narrowed.

It should be made right.

Vegeta was his only contact to the outside world now.  His hero who killed innocents.  His angel who gave the gods the finger.  According to Vegeta himself, his chosen.  His mate.  His lover.  His wife. 

But Vegeta was a guy. 

This was definitely a dividing factor.  Gohan wasn't homosexual.  He was barely heterosexual.   Only a few and significant differences kept him from being asexual completely. 

But Vegeta wasn't as bad as he wanted himself to be.  Or look like.  If he was really cruel he could have let Gohan loose on the world and laughed about it later.  Even though he was partly saving his own reputation, because he didn't want to be married either.  Or bonded.  Or whatever.  And he didn't—Gohan paused, blushed, and felt his neck burn—he didn't want to have sex with him either. 

He didn't want his skin against his. 

He didn't want him close. 

He didn't want him period.

Gohan didn't know what sex between guys would be like.  If not for Biology class and secondary school, he wouldn't know what sex would be like at all.  He had no idea what it would feel like.  Biology class had made it sound incredibly painful and ridiculous, but other stories…

He'd heard locker stories, but he could tell by the smell that only a few were telling the truth.  It sounded a lot like fighting.  It sounded great.

He'd always be in awe of Vegeta, and in a kind of admiration.  Vegeta didn't always have the strength, but always had the guts.  Gohan had the guts, but he'd been blessed to almost always have the strength, or the luck, as well.  The times he hadn't been strong enough, he'd been worried and mad as hell and had made things work the way he wanted them to…And then something had gone right so he was still alive later on; usually it was his father.

Vegeta should be with him. 

It was decided. 

It had been planned and considered and mused over and analyzed from every angle conceivable, but it had still been unresolved.

Academically, psychologically, biologically, it was now decided.

*

"I still, love, you…I still, want, you," he sings, his voice thin and weak instead of the stronger and raspy-ish of the original singer.  But the lyrics are good and he strings out the words, the boy's tone carries the feeling, which not even the best singer can always do. 

*

He stood and walked thoughtfully over to the bed, sitting down cautiously and quietly on the edge.

Vegeta wasn't bad looking.  He always seemed to be serious and irritated by everyone else, always thinking and judging, calculating the next attack even when there wasn't an enemy. 

And proper.  Regardless how he sometimes acted in battle, or even what he said, he did have his values and morals, reflections of his short regal upbringing.  Much, much different from what Gohan and Goku had, but Gohan had recognized that there was a format and type of structure to Vegeta's actions.

He was a bit shorter than Gohan, and slender yet still powerful.  But he was really rough, nearly always vicious and violent.  He'd probably be furious. 

But Gohan was confident of his own strength.  He might not be completely violent or bossy, but physically he was confident.  But he wasn't…gay?

Gohan's fingers traced the air over Vegeta's face, mingling with the faint body heat. 

But like Vegeta said, nobody really cared what he thought or wanted. 

This was the way things were, and not the way Gohan wanted although he could make things the way he wanted them…he wasn't sure if that was the way he wanted it now.  If maybe normalcy was the best thing anymore. 

A small part of his head blamed it on hormones, and rang a small warning bell timidly and tapped the desk against the data and ones and zeros zooming back in forth at furious calculating speeds.

//the point of puberty is to have sex,//

//nobody cares what you want,//

//your body is going faster than usual,//

//you'll have to find another soon.// 

He wasn't gay.  He was very sure of that.  Vegeta didn't seem extremely shocked by homosexuality, only upset that he was the 'chosen' and that Gohan was Gohan.  But about the homosexual aspect of it…Vegeta didn't seem particularly shocked or angry. 

He had thought Gohan an idiot for being shocked.  As in a narrow-minded-idiot?  But then he called Gohan was an idiot most of the time.

But if nobody cared what Gohan wanted…why should he care what Vegeta wanted?

Why should Vegeta be so privileged, in everything?

Why should he deny himself?

…How long could he?

Gohan watched Vegeta's chest move gently as he breathed, and noted absently that Vegeta's skin looked a little paler, and a little sharper drawn. 

Vegeta was beautiful.

…Why should he deny himself?

He leaned down (only academically experimenting in the hybrid biology), to the tune of ivory steel (memories, I want my mind back), blinked twice and inhaled (oh god, if he doesn't kill me), and pressed his lips dryly against Vegeta's (oh fuck-), and closed his eyes (me). 

His heart thumped erratically, his body broke out in a cold sweat even though his temperature must've gone up by 20 degrees, cooking his inner organs slowly as hormones released enzymes that were slowly boiling him alive.    He couldn't breathe well, and his eyes forcibly slammed shut.

Gohan could smell Vegeta everywhere, and could feel the tempting and comfortable waves of Vegeta's body heat.  Vegeta was right there.  And so was Gohan.

He moved his lips slowly, dryly, lightly, as his eyes slid shut, while his control slipped like success though his fingers and left him completely.  He gingerly touched the tip of his tongue to Vegeta's lips and felt movement in answer. 

And Gohan let go.

He exhaled heavily, swore in his mind, grabbed Vegeta's hair and the back of his neck while powering up to the uncertain max of SSJ and straddling Vegeta to keep his arms down with his knees and ki.

He was able to kiss Vegeta fully and hard once on the mouth and trace his tongue over and inside his bottom lip and felt Vegeta's chest rise, while he dug his fingers through the spikes of hair, before teeth clamped down hard on his lips and tongue, a full body blast hitting Gohan full in his chest and off the bed onto the floor. 

So while Vegeta sprang up he was akimbo on the floor, flaring terrified teal meeting blazing acidic lime and-

-just touch souls briefly-

-desire fear shock lust-

-and Gohan teleported outside the house and shot his power to the max and flew.  A small sound of air coming in to fill the vacuum was the only farewell given. 

It was nothing compared to the grating vacuum that followed.

*

"On and on the mysteries unwind themselves…Eternities still unsaid…'Til you love me." 
The boy turns his head in what could be east, smiles warmly, and stands up.  That was dawn of the 7th morning.

Vegeta should be unconscious by now. 

Time to start.

~~~~~~~

A/N: Song "A Thousand Years", by Sting.

~~~~~~~

Point of View Style 1

He has to know I'm following him.

He has to know, my ki is too strong.

He came back he came back (back to me?) the fucking goddamned half-breed born of a reject father with the stupid little girl laugh that grates on my nerves and shy little smile that floors my mind and pale skin pale perfect unmarked skin and long legs and hips so perfectly designed-

The maker of that body should be dragged out and shot for daring to create anything so beautiful and elegant with a power my own kind never dreamed of, never even in our darkest, most ambitious fantasies could ever conceive of anything so perfect, so uniquely and perfectly designed-

-And he turns out nice.  And kind.  And in his own way—

-provocative.  He dares to be the savoir my kind dreamed and prayed for, and he speaks and acts like a ningen brat.

And fights like a demon.

Walks like sex on legs.

And looks at me…like he was going to swallow me whole.  And I believe he could.  Given the chance, should I ever let my guard down long enough he could and he would so without a blink.

But he's so damned fast.  He didn't used to be this fast.

He grew.  The bastard grew and changed, grew stronger out there.  Fucking great for him.  So he's been getting stronger and I've just…

I was faster than this.

The effects of that fucking spider bite he gave me.

Why is he running?  He's supposed to be hunting me, not the other way around.  Not that I mind, I've been wanting to beat his ass unconscious but it doesn't make sense.  He's going back, back to where he was supposed to stay, where he was safe, before he came looking for trouble, before he came looking for me, stupid kid I was trying to protect you, I was trying to protect me, but now that's all made worthless now.

I can still taste you in my mouth, clean warmed wine…

I almost responded.  You were going to take me then, I could feel it in you even if you didn't know it, and I almost let you.  I almost wanted you to. 

Disgusting.  Some hybrid creature trying to take me…and I almost would have allowed it.  How low can I sink?  Damn far, for sure.  But not that far, not that low.  I die before I let my body control me.  It hasn't before; it won't now.

But…you don't know what you're doing. 

You don't…

This is all just reflex to you, you hardly hold any more passion or conviction for the burning in your blood that's rushing through your veins than you hold for fighting, for the kill, it's all reflex all nature, wild savage nature wrapped up khaki scholar slacks you love so much.

Bastard.

You don't mean a goddamned Saiyan thing you've ever done.  You just got lucky.

But now it's not worth anything.  All the pain I've suffered while you left me, abandoned me because I wanted you to, I needed you to…All the pain you've suffered-and I know you have-it's all worth nothing. 

I won't let you take me. 

I won't let you take me at all.

I was the Saiyan no Ouji.  I am the Saiyan no Ouji.  Royalty, upper class, high born, sovereign of a dead and dying race and I didn't let Frieza stop me I didn't let him break me but he tried he tried like hell and I'm not going to let you do it!  I've come too far for that! 

I won't settle for that now.

I didn't fight all my life, against everything, so that a drugged up half-breed could have me as his personal whore, I won't stand for it!  I won't allow it! 

I smelled the Heat on you while you touched me, and I could smell the fear on you, stronger now that you've been discovered.  You think I didn't realize the first time you were here?  Idiot.  Of course I knew. 

With soul-ache and despair eating away at my ribs to rip into something juicy…of course I knew.  You're terrified.  You shouldn't have messed with things you don't want to follow through with; you shouldn't have messed with me.

I can still taste you in my mouth.  I'll taste more of you before the sun rises.

I know you can't run forever boy. 

I know you won't, even if you could.

~~~~~~~

Note Taking Style 2

Vegeta had chased him.

Gohan smiled, let the adrenaline run in his system, and had flown a maze that would have made his philosophy professor proud in the woods and continents before heading back to the artic.  He was tired, winded, but so was Vegeta.

Much happened, but only three, maybe four things were important:

1.They never touched.  Gohan made sure of that, no matter how close Vegeta came to him or tried to ambush or hit him; of how very much Gohan wanted him to…they never touched.

2.Vegeta never stopped chasing him.  He never gave up.

3.Vegeta was presently underneath a glacier.  Likely unconscious, as the formation had fallen on him while he was powered down and winded.

4.Gohan was presently back at the Capsule house, warm, content, and cooking ravioli soup with French bread.

~~~~~~

Point of View Style 2

You followed up to plan perfectly.

You got confident when you thought I was heading back home, when you thought I was afraid of you. 

You've always underestimated too quickly; it's your greatest failing.  You always called me weak, but you left your own weakness out in the open to play upon.

I darted through a canyon made of still water, and through tunnels, some natural, some perfectly etched out just for you, just for this, while you follow up and leave glittering shrapnel in your wake, trailing like angry diamond insects.

I slow down for a few seconds, leaving several meters between us, enough to get you to speed up but still keep myself out of reach. 

A low, smooth streak across a plateau with the pitiable sunlight reflecting off the ice and into my eyes. 

A 90-degree angle down a glacier side several hundred miles down, curling up before I hit the ground.

I know you must be frustrated, you've never seemed the cat-and-mouse kind to me, and so far you haven't been able to vent your anger in a single solid punch or kick.  I just hope you're not too furious. 

And I close my eyes and search for your ki.   Not so much to know where you are, but how high it is, fluctuations, how you're feeling…Clues.  Feedback.  Can I make this work now, or do I need to improvise?

You are few feet in front of me, hovering the air still powered up, nowhere near your max, with slight fluctuation in your ki and heavy respiration.  I'm still powered up too, tired, but not quite as badly.  I had planned this, after all.

I open my eyes and smile at you while you glare irritably at me, catching the glint and pulse in your eyes when you see me smile.  Catching on?  Not yet, don't want you to know what I'm planning yet. 

I also see something else, something I remember from the bar the first day of this affair, something I file away for later analyzation because I'm not ready to touch it right now.

But god it's hard to stop looking at you.  I can feel so much in the way you look at me, like medieval hunter in the forest and I'm the prey and I know you won't hesitate to strike…the way your chest moves as you struggle to pull in breath. 

The sun glints off your tanned skin and chest, my eyes pulled always to your neck…You do look paler though, a little skinnier.  It's probably just the lighting.

I walk backward slowly, not to startle you or cause you rush or fight, although I wouldn't mind your hands on me at all, even if it did hurt…I still smile though, that bright, cheerful smile you've sneered at so many times and I know touches a cord somewhere inside you; whether good or bad is a mystery to me.  But it touches a nerve, and that's what's important.

You narrow your eyes, and the muscles shift and relax and tense in your neck and biceps.  I'm not running.  I drop my power, back into normal.  That gets your attention.  Good.  I'm going to get more.

I grin wider at you, slow my steps even more while lowering and crossing my arms across my abdomen to grab the hem of my shirt and strip it off, slowing down until I came to a stop until it comes off over my head and down my arms, making sure to run my hands slowly over my biceps in casual caresses and flex my fingers. 

People always say I have long fingers to be so skinny, especially when compared to my dad. 

Your expression didn't change and you didn't move, but the fire dimmed a bit in your eyes.  I wasn't sure why.  I'm still…not completely sure.  That was supposed to be the catalyst, the invitation, and yet you become disappointed.  Why?  

Come on Vegeta, this is embarrassing enough without it being inefficient!  It's very hard to keep up this façade of confidence, and if you laugh or look at me at the wrong moment in the wrong way the whole shenanigan comes crashing down.

I'm so damn embarrassed as it is, I'm surprised the ice isn't melting.

But I can tell from the shifting angle of your brows and small flexing of your fingers that I've got your attention in all the right ways, if not as much as I had wanted.

I continue backing up until my back touches the glacier.  I hiss and flinch on contact, my face going from the smooth bright cherry smile to a snarl; it's cold enough already, even in SSJ, bad enough normal status, and it is affecting me. 

But it has to be affecting you too then, so that's not quite so bad. 

It's the kind of cold that burns and cuts at the same time, when it really starts to numb it means you either have frostbite, hypothermia, or you are going to die very shortly.  I had first hand experiences for the first two, and a little of the third, so I know what I'm talking about.

Saiyans get stronger the more often they are hurt or come close to death.  I think that's happened more often to me than to you since the last time we've met, so I'm thinking I'm the stronger of both of us right now, but it's hard to tell.  You seem weaker than usual, but you're probably masking your ki.

I look up at you from the top of my head, while you hover a few feet in the air and a couple of yards from me.  You notice everything I do.  Good.

I lean back carefully, eyes glazing over while I try to relax into the ice and not wince in pain like I so want to. 

This is cruel. 

This is unusual.

I know you love it.

At the very least I have your attention, and you haven't said anything yet.  If you call me a baka now everything really –will- be that much harder.

I can finally lean back fully, and my skin is so stuck to the ice it'll probably rip off my back even if I peel myself off.

I keep my neck off, it would really sting extremely so if I did put it on.

I tilt my head up to look at you, and I know you love it.  What it stands for.  You're my lord and I'm your subject, my center, my superior and wiser.

I also catch you looking at my chest, the muscles in my neck, my torso and rimming around my jeans.  They're a bit uncomfortable, but just to feel you glaze the muscles in them while we tagged around the globe makes it worth the scratching.

I feel like I'm going to fall forward.  Your eyes have always been your strongest weapon against me, they can shut me up faster and more efficient than words ever could, they can tell me what your thinking, how you feel…I can almost see your soul in your eyes. 

Not all of it, but some.  It's a lot different than what you pretend to be.  It's beautiful.  Even words fail me now.

I raise my arms up, towards you in invitation, up towards the sun in worship, and behind my head and over my neck against the ice in surrender.

I stare and smile at you the whole time, legs crossed casually with one foot against the ice behind me.

I know you've already processed what the position implies: I can't defend myself, I can't run, I'm a little off-balance and I can be caught and pinned easily; come get me.

You don't though.

You study me for me for a moment, and I feel like a article in a text book, clear cut and subject to anyone and anything that comes it's way, from slacking students with dirty hands and cigarettes to toddlers armed with crayons. 

You drop out of SSJ.  Oh, that's good.  You're gathering energy for a ki blast and have one nearly ready and primed at my head.  That's bad. 

You don't fire though, and your eyes narrow—warning me?  You said you were going to kill me if I came after you again.  Well, I did.  Twice.  Or so.  Maybe more.  You aren't thinking about going back on your word, are you? 

I lift my chin and rearrange my legs again to shift my hips.  I wish I knew how to flirt.  I really wish I knew how to flirt.  That'd be really useful right now.  Improvisation is the next best thing.  Right.  I hope I don't screw up too badly…

"Thanks for coming.  I would say I wasn't sure you'd come, but then that'd be lying.  Still…nice of you to take the trouble…"

Arrogant, smug, and condescending.  Low pitched so you have to concentrate on the words I say, a steady treble with a slight smirk inflection…Basically your own voice back at you.  Did I manage it?  Tempting?  I don't think so, not under normal circumstances, but maybe it would be to you.

Something changes in your face, but I have to move before I can classify it and I know I'm going to regret the chance later, tearing and powering up simultaneously behind you to shove/blast you into the glacier with a minor shot and following up with a kamehameha while you crash and reorient yourself.  The cliff collapses with you in it, but I still power up to full, then push it further with all that I've earned in my last few days here, and blast a masaka just to be sure, shattering the ice beneath you.

If you escaped the blast, that would be a really bad thing for me.

But I don't think you did.

It doesn't feel like you did—It just doesn't.

Water starts to well up, and the surrounding cliff side for miles begins to groan and crash.

And I leave you there.

Exceptionally quickly.

Under the ice, possibly hurt, hopefully unconscious and undoubtedly confused.  And with my ki as quiet as it is, undoubtedly lost after I'm far away enough.  It took me forever to maneuver in the glaring monotonous whiteness; it'll take you a little time at least.

Normally I would stick around after blasting an enemy, ready to fight when he came back up, but I don't think—I'm not sure if I'm able to physically best you.  I think I can.  But I don't want to hurt you either.

I bet you thought I lured you here just to kiss. 

The raviolis ready; Mom somehow managed to pass down some of her cooking talent, but I really still prefer things that come in cans.  I can still mess up pretty badly if it's anything harder than that and has to include a white chardonnay with anise and fennel.  Or port. 

I've had bad experiences with port.

Port's hell.

~~~~~~

Note Taking Style 3

He woke up slowly, keeping his ki level the minute he recognized the grogginess.

I. He'd been knocked out.

II. It was not 4 am in the morning.

III. He was not alone.

IV. He was tied up.

V. Smell.

VI. The boy.

VII. Weight on his legs.

VIII. A mouth sucking on his neck.

~~~~~

Vegeta's thoughts

//Gohan's thoughts//

Normal Style

"Hmm.  Hello," A tongue tasted his sideburns, "How do you feel?" and traced over his eye, and suckled on his ear. 

Vegeta ignited his power, "Huh," and shot his eyes open when he couldn't. 

"Something Bulma whipped up a while ago."  Gohan's face came into view, pale angular face topped with thick neat black spikes except for a petulant strand over his eyes, back slightly bowed grinning a small, shy smile, but looking completely pleased with himself.  Black glared into smiling black.

The boy wasn't blushing.

He was wearing that same, small, hopeful, cheerful smile and not wearing a shirt, showing off his muscled biceps like armor still lean and lanky with youth.

The boy wasn't blushing.

There was a bright fluorescent light overhead, artificial and cold, and they were apparently in a kitchen with French bread on the counter and…something on the stove.

Vegeta was tied to a chair, apparently helpless and without his boots, and Gohan was sitting shirtless on his lap and had been licking his face (body?) for who knew how long, knees on either side of his waist and butt on his thighs, close enough to touch but far enough away to keep his groin in sight.

The boy wasn't blushing.  Oh shit.

"See something nice?"

The boy still wasn't blushing.  Fucking Namek.

"You're fucked now boy."

Gohan split into an uncertain grin.

"I seriously in all sincerity hope so."

Vegeta frowned and raised his eyebrows curiously while the boy tentatively and awkwardly tilted his head to suck on Vegeta's jaw.  His head was far too groggy, maybe from the cold and maybe from the fight, and even though he could talk coherently his mind wasn't yet processing things as fast as he wanted them to.  And that bloody bright light was hurting his eyes.

"Boy?"

Slurp, nudge, "Yes?" scooping kiss, pressing kiss-

"What the hell are you doing?"

 -light quick bite, worrying a thin layer of skin between teeth-

"Um, well,"-unfolding kiss, lick-"I'm not gay.  No offense but I don't-", hard, experimental suckling on the side of his neck, causing Vegeta to hiss, it was so close to the mark. 

Gohan paused, took a cleaning lick, and leaned back to look critically at Vegeta, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand absently.  Saliva dripped down Vegeta's neck, soaking the collar of his body suit.  He was groggily, mildly disgusted. 

"No offense, but I don't think you're cute or anything.  I mean, you are very handsome in like a very, um, what's the word…striking I suppose, very tanned and brutal way, but this isn't exactly something I would normally muse about during math class but I generally don't tend to fantasize during math anyway so that's an unfair comparison.  As to what I'm doing now, well, um, I really am a bit new at this whole thing.  Intimate…touching and stuff.  So I'm trying to get as much hands-on-training as possible and learn, so that's mostly for me, it's not really for your benefit as much as it is mine."

…Gods, but he does enjoy blathering…

"…What?"

"That's not for you.  That's for me."

Vegeta looked at him.  He breathed in and blinked at the same time, his mind coming to a conclusion that his nose had supplied him with.

"You're not in heat."  Vegeta didn't ask a question when a statement could be supplied.  And the air didn't carry the heavy tones of Heat and hormones…mainly it just smelled a little burnt.  From the food perhaps?

Gohan blinked. 

"Well, no, no more than usual.  I've had to increment drastically the dosage of the pills you gave me, but I can still think sometimes."

"So…what are you doing?"

"Um, I'm really trying—" Gohan stopped, and chewed his lower lip in thought.  He looked into Vegeta's eyes with a pensive expression on his face.  The ceiling light glinted and refracted against the boy's hair as he tilted his head in musing.

"You know, whenever I touched that-" he pointed to the bruise on Vegeta's neck, "you always made this sound, even though you were asleep.  Kind of like it hurt.  I wonder if you'll make it now that you're awake."

The boy smiled, but something in his eyes winced in the light. 

Vegeta swam in his thoughts, and tried to force them back into working order.  He was being… taunted?  He'd obviously been tricked but…

Vegeta spoke slowly, making sure none of the words slurred.  Just because he felt weak didn't mean he had to show it.

"First--you beg me to tell you what the fuck is wrong with you…then I have to listen to you whine and bitch about how unfair life is…and now you pull a stunt like this?" 

Vegeta yanked harder against his bonds in emphasis than he had thought possible, and shoved his face into Gohan's. 

The boy struck him hard across the face.  Pain registered slowly, vertigo quickly. 

…What?…Wow…bit early for that.

"See," Gohan brushed his hair against Vegeta's face, "what I hypothesize," he rubbed his cheek against Vegeta's, "is that Heat demands, well, sex right?" 

He tilted Vegeta's chin up so he could look into his eyes. 

Vegeta's eyes held all the charmed allure of a Venusian swamp; sweltering, wet, and acidic. 

Gohan smiled weakly, sighed heavily, yet held Vegeta's gaze and tried to ignore the livid crimson on his left cheek. 

What was he playing at?  It's obvious he's scared as hell, but what's he playing at?  That…hurt, but the way he's acting…it's wrong.  Fuck…I need my hands free.  Stupid onna and her damn 'inventions'.

"Now, you've already made it really clear that you don't want me to sleep with you.  And that was ok with me, and now it isn't ok with me.  And I've had lots of time to do lots of thinking, and the only thing I can think about and really don't want to, is you." 

Gohan grinned bitterly, "Just…you."

His voice was hard, dark, but hardly cold.  Convicting.  Like he was lecturing a child…Vegeta wasn't a child.  Little bitch…

Gohan paused, his eyes burning back into Vegeta's.  Vegeta was surprised.  The boy was actually mad.  The ball-less bastard was actually mad

"I really didn't have a choice.  It's kind of weird, you know.  I haven't felt this obsessive since after the time I messed up with Cell.  And Dad died.  But this time, it's just you.  And I'm not real sure what it is I've done wrong, but I do know that I don't want to feel this guilty or bad all the time.  So I'm not going to."

He watched Vegeta for a reaction, waiting.  Besides a change in the slope of his eyes, there was none.

"Remembering what you said.  How you said it.  The way you looked.  The way you smelled.  Always sort of…I noticed that more.  I didn't use to before, but now I am.  Strange, ne?"  The boy smiled warmly, contently.  Vegeta fought to keep his stomach down. 

Gohan's canines flashed suddenly, but his tone didn't change, still light and conversational although the timbre dropped a few. 

"The way you looked at me, like I was something unhealthy.  Like events were somehow my fault.  And you were the victim who got stuck with the goddamned check and--" Gohan bit off the end of the sentence, shook his head, and grinned raggedly. 

"And I figured that, while things would have been pretty set with me and Videl, with you~u, things would be… different." 

"Really?"

Vegeta felt he should say something, silence wasn't his style, and there was no point in letting the boy get more ahead of himself than possible.  It's hard to keep up with boy's words, his head was still swimming and while Vegeta had known Gohan was in pain, but he hadn't been expecting this much anger or resentment. 

A very horny teenager, perhaps violent, and at the worst rape--but not something so…premeditated.  So personal.

Had he been drugged? 

It felt like he had, a bitter taste in the back of his tongue.  He wouldn't put it past the boy.  He felt like crap, and his skin still burned from where the boy had touched him.  Damn pheromones, just a bunch of stupid chemicals telling him what to do…

"So tell me brat, what exactly did the great genius have in mind?"

There, that sounded better.  His voice wasn't strong enough, but at least the syllables were still clear and there was some inflection.

Gohan coughed sardonically in his chest, mildly pleased and irritated that Vegeta was getting back to being his old sour self.

"You said you didn't want me to…well," Gohan frowned and moved his mouth around, "to 'fuck' you, and that's still ok with me.  I mean, with human rights and all, even though neither of us is really human, but that's beside the point.  You shouldn't be forced to something you don't want to.  I'm not a rapist, the idea's sickening." 

Vegeta smirked a ghost of a smirk at the irony.  He coughed up his own chuckle in his throat.

"So now it just means you'll have to do me instead."

Vegeta blinks processes this for meaning.

Vegeta barks a short laugh.

Gohan smirks.

Vegeta returns it.  He blinks, tilts his head to the side, and regards the sincerity of the boy seated on his lap.  He's still leering at Gohan, amused beyond belief.

"And that's your plan?"

"Pretty much."

Vegeta grinned.  He wasn't exactly sure why the situation was funny, it just was.  Why bother figuring out?  The brat always had been a disdainful laugh riot…And he could practically feel his metabolism burning away whatever was wrong in his blood and body.  His vision was getting sharper.

"…So you're groping me now because…?"

"That's not for you, that's for me.  I'm trying to get used to way your—skin feels against mine.  I'm new at this, remember?"

"And you somehow expect to have sexThat's your dazzling plan, to somehow make me degrade myself by shoving my dick up your ass?"

He tries to be crass intentionally.  This was Kakkarott's brat after all; it shouldn't be that hard to embarrass him.

Gohan paused.

"Yes, I figured that's how it would go.  As for convincing you, well-"

Gohan hung his arms straight over Vegeta's arms, leaned their foreheads together and smiled.

"I haven't taken any of your medical pulls for more than 7 hours Vegeta-san," he tacked on the honorific with ironic sadism. 

"So you can agree, or you can wait until my Saiyan blood that you've always been so damn proud of takes hold and does what it wants," Gohan smirked deliciously.  "You really don't have a choice.  In fact, the only thing that's really keeping me from tearing off your clothes and taking you here and now is 10 cans of coffee…and the way you're looking at me right now." 

The boy's eyes flicked from one eye to the other to Vegeta's lips.  The boy smiles in that the sappy, intentionally sickening way.  Gohan seemed to feed on the feelings of disgust Vegeta was generating. 

"The way you always look at me," he purred.

Vegeta struck with his teeth extended and a snarl, nicking the right side of the boy's bottom lip and some of his face before the younger pulled back and punched him hard in the hinge of the jaw, making his teeth rattle and his tendons stretch and head echo.

The blow didn't phase him at all, and as he whipped his head back around Vegeta was hit again, but the elder warrior managed a 3 inch shallow incision across Gohan's wrist and arm as the flesh went past his teeth following the fist, and Gohan pulled back quickly.  A bottomless growl echoed from his throat as Gohan cradled the wound in shock and stared at the blood on Vegeta's lips. 

Gohan's eyes narrowed, and his shoulders lowered, and he pulled Vegeta's mouth roughly to the side while Vegeta struggled, ending with putting his arms in a type of vice, leaving his neck on display.

Vegeta suddenly remembered all the melodramatic vampire movies the onna insisted on watching. 

This is so stupid!

"You were supposed to help me," a teeth sharp on his shoulder, "and you didn't.  And I'm really sorry it has to come down to this, but I'm through waiting, and your emotions have more or less become void." 

Teeth were placed on his collarbone and raked, stopped, reset with an adjustment, and raked meticulously over his skin, leaving red marks and little trails of blood in their wake.

Vegeta struggled harder.  It's not even all that painful!  It's just embarrassing!…and a little painful.

"You ungrateful bitch, I gave you all the help-"

"You didn't help me at all.  Not as much as you could have.  And if I-" Gohan yanked Vegeta's head up and to the left, and squeezed his waist with his legs until they were pushed chest-to-chest and groin to abdomen, and pressed heavily with his tongue the bite on Vegeta's neck.  Vegeta hissed.

As arousing as the actions were meant to be, or could be interpreted, they had a wooden, rehearsed bit about them, but still desperate enough for the tension to carry. 

Vegeta's nostrils flared, taking in the air. 

Fear. 

Fear and anger. 

He flexed his wrists hard, felt the metal bite back, and heard the chair creak beneath him.  It was only wood.  He kicked backwards blindly and tried to arch his back, the hell with if it put him closer to the brat it might get him free. 

Gohan half-heartedly tried to cover his struggles, being more interested with running his tongue along his neck.

"-if I go mad, or insane, or what the fuck!, it's going to be you-" Gohan ground his hips into Vegeta, licked a trail across his temple while his fingers tapped into the center of the bruise, causing Vegeta to scream a short cry before he slammed his jaw shut and screwed his eyes closed "-who's really going to be very," Gohan kissed the corner of his jaw tenderly, dug his nails and fingers into the skin above Vegeta's manacles, "very" he kissed the right side of his neck, "upset."

//shit shit shit//

FUCK!

A gentle kiss on the mark while Vegeta inhaled sharply, his chest rising and rubbing against the boy's as he arched, trying not to scream and pulled against the bonds and tried to slip them over the top of the chair as Gohan stuck his tongue into the mark, and raked his teeth over it, the little bastard.

Vegeta needed to scream. 

He writhed, struggled, pulled away as far as the bonds and hands would let him, which wasn't nearly far enough. 

This was wrong, he could smell it in the air, there was something obscenely wrong about it all, especially in the bright fluorescent kitchen light that reminded him of an operating table, in the fear and anger and disheveled desire that flooded the air. 

This was wrong. 

A growl echoed in his throat, a last reserve of strength made him kick hard against the floor, made the chair screech and bounce against the floor and another bloodied red slash against Gohan's jaw line, another separation of flesh and skin, uglier than the others, not nearly deep enough.

Gohan just pressed against the chair with an arm across Vegeta's throat and pressing harder all the time. 

Vegeta belatedly criticized himself for not trying to bite out the other's jaw.  His mouth is big enough, and his teeth are sharp.  It wouldn't be the first time.  He surged to get his breath back.  They glared at each other, Vegeta nursing a hurt throat and Gohan's hand pressed into his jaw.

"This is how you solve your problems?  You really think this is going to make anything better, you don't even have the guts to take what-"

"Shut up Vegeta I-"

"You can't do a damn thing!  There isn't anything you can do that can make me change my mind!  Learn to fix your own fucked life instead of bitching at me to do it for you!"

"It's not just my life anymore, I chose you-"

"You didn't even know what the hell it meant-"

"I don't need to know!  It isn't my fault, it isn't mine at all!  I don't know why I want to--to sleep with you, I don't know I want to touch you!! I'm not even gay!  I don't think guys are cute, and I don't like you!  I hate you!"

Gohan bit back the rest of his words, his chest heaving, head crouched against his chest.  He had been shouting in Vegeta's face—they both had—and now he hid his eyes, and his face. 

That emotional outburst was a bit too revealing, a bit too dangerous, and both Gohan and Vegeta recognized it for it what it was.

There was a moment where things happened very quickly and nothing was done.  Then it was over.

Vegeta observed him through lidded eyes, his upper lip curling up slightly.  Gohan's hand was still pressed into his jaw, and his shoulders were trembling, just a little invisible bit.  Vegeta breathed in deep again.  Like old tobacco tar lining a smokers lungs…damn the room was covered in it. 

Why was the brat so damn afraid?

"Oh, stop.  Please stop.  Can't you see you're breaking my heart you geeky little freak."  Vegeta shook his head.  "This is so fucking melodramatic, typical…If you chose someone like me, the way I am, it's your own tainted genes.  It was your own heart.  It was your own choice.  Learn to live with yourself, but don't you dare to even ask me to live it for you."

There was a pause.

He should probably be feeling some compassion right now.  If Gohan had come about this in any other way…if only he hadn't tried to force him, tried to trap him…

Vegeta spoke, very quietly. 

"This isn't something you can force on me.  Not on me.  Not you, not your daddy, not anybody else ever.  I am my own."

Vegeta watched quietly.  The brat hadn't just absorbed the words, he seemed physically struck by them.  Gohan's breathing was still regular, and the small invisible tremors in his shoulders continued.  Vegeta couldn't see Gohan's face, but he could see the drips of water that fell onto the space between them. 

"…Now get the fuck off-"

There was muffled shriek and a painful cry of outrage as the rest of sentence was cut off sharply in a cough.

"NoI won't have it!  No…nonononono…No.  No you can't.  No.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry but you can't."  Gohan shook his head slowly.  Vegeta tried to jerk, but Gohan's fingers were like old metal tight around his esophagus.  The cold froze him, and the threat never stopped looming in front of him.  He couldn't move.  He didn't dare.

Gohan's voice was cold and slow, leaking directly from his soul.

"I can't…go through this anymore.  I can't…I need my mind back because it hurts not to have it.  You took…", Gohan chuckled wetly by his ear, "I gave you something…and now I need it back.  I need…I need something, because it hurts too much not to have it.  And if it means I have…to hurt you…"

Gohan's shoulders moved gracefully to and fro with every shallow breath he took, water dripping onto Vegeta's shoulder. 

Gohan breathed in deep, collected his mind like a battered curtain around him and moved on with his plan.  The important thing was to keep moving. 

don't worry about what he thinks, don't worry about what vegeta says; don't let him hurt you.  what he says doesn't matter.  don't let him hurt you.

keep moving.  got to keep moving. 

"Vegeta.  We're really not so different as you think.  I mean, I'm not really that bad, right?  Strong enough to beat Cell, strong enough to claim you, come on Vegeta, I'm not asking too much.  Just a little…quality time.  Saiyan bonding, and what not.  Just until this is over, and then we can go back, like nothing ever happened between us, and we'll never have to see each other again.  Things can be normal again…Please get your teeth out of my arm."

He blew a cold zephyr over the mark, bright red and throbbing with his previous ministrations.  Vegeta shivered and pulled his body as far as he could away as Gohan smirked into his skin. 

Vegeta still glared and bit down harder, drawing blood that trickled down.  Gohan's lips pressed together, and he powered up.  He discreetly rubbed his face against Vegeta's shoulder, and straightened his back to look at Vegeta in the eyes.  His face and eyes were redder, wet, one side of his jaw was bleeding, but the old air of smug superiority and clumsy, careless seduction were back. 

Gohan was in control again.

Fuck.  That was over quick.

Vegeta was silently disappointed.  His teeth could break bone and he couldn't even pull the flesh off.  And the nearly-Saiyan blood in his mouth was having a bad effect on his chemistry, dizzying his head after it was nearly cleared.

"After all, what choice do you have?  Take…or be taken.  It's as simple as that."

He purred, and rubbed his face against Vegeta's. 

"You don't have to answer verbally."

Gohan moved his free arm away from Vegeta's throat, and squeezed the hinges of Vegeta's jaw together until he could pull his forearm out easily, like one would do with a rabid dog.  He had to do it to shut him up.  Keep him quiet. 

Despite himself, despite the pain and turbulent emotions, he had to admire the beauty the blood that spilled in small rivulets out of Vegeta's mouth. 

That looked so…morbid. 

So disgusting that Gohan really, really wanted to kiss him hard and stick his tongue in his mouth.  Except that Vegeta would probably bite that too. 

Still.

Gohan lifted his arm up and licked along the length of it, watching Vegeta for any reactions.

That was so uncannily Saiyan…

Vegeta snorted.

"You act like a bitch."

Then it was like before, the boy's hands in his hair and tracing his arms, distant and academic touches done for familiarity, with the coldness of duty and the fire of hormones.

He wanted to swear.  He wanted to scream.  He really wanted to beat the shit out of Gohan until the half-breed was finally dead and done with like he had initially thought of, but hadn't done. 

Because he thought it wouldn't have been fair.

Fuck. 

Vegeta reviewed his situation.  He was tied to a chair, somewhat drugged, bereft of his ki, with a very horny, desperate, and not very sane half-breed brat. 

Who, incidentally, smelled damn good, tasted-from the few times their mouths had touched-damn good, and had the body of a poem.  His body flamed and flared dimly with each clumsy yet careful touch it received, regardless of where it was or how it was given.  His blood still throbbed.

And…who couldn't be thinking very clearly right now.  And was somewhat vulnerable, and very dependent on Vegeta even if Vegeta was his "prisoner". 

Vegeta considered his pride, and thought some while fingers massaged at his shoulder blades. 

What the hell.

Vegeta reached out and licked Gohan's chest hesitantly, surprised when the boy whimpered and convulsed immediately, head falling on his shoulder, startled high gasps coming from him. 

Well that was quick.

He sucked cautiously on a nipple while Gohan shrieked and trembled violently, hands clawing the back of the chair.  Vegeta pulled back, listened to the near-sobbing breaths and watching the skin tremble and muscles spasm under.

"Onegai, please, Vegeta, Geta-sama, please don't play…"

Vegeta conscientiously licked a slow trail to the top of Gohan's broad shoulder, listening to the gasps and hitched breathing, the flushed and temperate convulsing. 

He tasted like water, like cold, like chilled wine so polished there was barely any taste, only a sophisticated after-taste tingling and sweet on the back of his tongue before vanishing.  Tease.  But better than the first time.

He bit lightly, just lightly, into Gohan's shoulder.  Reaction was instant, and Gohan screamed and arched, slammed his hips into Vegeta, grinding his erection desperately even while the chair tipped and crashed to the floor.  He continued rubbing wantonly, seeking release still, even while he gripped Vegeta by his hair and tried to choke him with his own tongue and his other hand stroking his chest in fast, heavy passes and tried to open his pants. 

"Brat!

Gohan frantically got both hands on Vegeta's belt while his mouth tried to capture the elder's again, "Gohan!"

Gohan whimpered at his name and ripped the button off and the zipper down, forgetting all about the belt while he tried to get his hands inside-

-Vegeta bit down into his neck.

Deep.

Gohan screamed hard, and fell to his elbows, all movement halted.  His erection still throbbed against his pants and Vegeta's stomach.  His breathing came in sobs, terrified and desperate and pathetic. 

"'Geta-"

Gohan wheezed, his fingers twitching against his abdomen.

"…onegai…"

Vegeta did not answer verbally, but merely sucked and swallowed the iron, copper colored liquid down his throat and listened to the choking, suffocating sounds the boy couldn't even choke out into a scream while his body tightened around Vegeta like a snake, minute and intense tremors wracking the nerves. 

The boy could die like this, in this state, over an extended period.  He was barely breathing at all, and his chemistry zinging through his bloodstream in response to the mark. 

He wasn't pure Saiyan, so there was no way to tell if he'd be able to take the sudden blood loss or not.

Vegeta dug his teeth in further and swallowed, while Gohan made the shrill keen sound made when screaming is no longer an option. 

God, he tasted…raw. 

Bitter sweet and thick like a cleaner form of unrefined chocolate, like he was drinking adversity itself.  The blood of his own.

He had been right to wait, the taste punctuated by the needy, helpless mewls of his captor and hunter. 

God, he had been right to wait. 

The setting could have been better, with the boy beaten and bloody and naked beneath him, a scene his mind had taunted him with ever since his own mark, each time Gohan found himself asleep on the snow, but that could now be arranged. 

Given his hands free, that could be arranged in no time. 

The boy's voice alone warranted the experience would be beautiful, savage, the power of his lungs audible every time Vegeta moved his teeth the tiniest bit, his body on fire, an iron avatar that was centered solely on him. 

//vegeta.//

And he could feel his own body throb in response.  And he knew the boy could too.

He pressed hard and swallowed the excess blood that came through, and licked his lips clean before moving his mouth away to speak.

"Boy.  Get off." 

"…please, please, onegai, don't go, don't go, I'm sorry I can't, I can't help-"

"Get off.  And let me loose."

"Don't go."

"Let me loose.  You want me to take care of you, then I need my hands."

"I can't let you go.  I won't let you leave again."

"Bakayarou.  Do you think you can get screwed in the position I'm in?"

There was a pause, and Vegeta fought hard not to smirk.

"…huh?"

"You want to come right?  You want to come so hard you can't walk, until it hurts, until you die you've been fucked front and back more times than you can ever count?  Isn't that right boy, that's what your dick is crying for?"

"…hai.  Onegai-"

"Let me go.  Let me go, and I can do that."

"Don't go."  

"I won't.  I'll screw you until you're blind and begging me to kill you instead."

Gohan said nothing; his shoulders shook gently as hot salty tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

"Onegai…"

"Let my hands go boy--" Vegeta nearly growled, then paused, and purred.  "I can do things with these hands that you can't even dream…"

Vegeta found his face flattened against the linoleum as Gohan frantically pulled and yanked at his restraints, keening softly to himself. 

The moment Vegeta was free, Gohan found himself hammered solidly on the temple and stomach and thrown against the wall on his ass.  Vegeta stalked towards him, murder or something very much like it in his eyes and sunlight in his hair.

"Idiot."

Vegeta smirked.

Gohan screamed silently as intense pain flared metallic blue in the corner of his eyes, his jaw working as he stared into Vegeta's eyes, who was squeezing a little too hard at his balls and stroking him through his pants.  Vegeta smirked as the shocked look of the owner's face. 

"Idiot," he repeated, the smirk never leaving his face.

Gohan's eyes slid closed and his head lolled.  He let go of Gohan and took a step back.  Gohan stared open-mouthed.

"Well?  Take your pants off."

Gohan gaped.  Vegeta frowned.

"This is what you were begging for boy.  Take your damn pants off."

Gohan's expression became that of alarmed, and he shook his head from side to side.  Vegeta snarled. 

"Dammit boy, then I'll fucking do it-"

Gohan sped/teleported out of the room with a yip as Vegeta reached for him.  Vegeta followed suit into the living room.  Gohan backed away, hands out in front of him in a placating gesture after giving another yelp.

"What the fuck do you-"

"Wait a sec, I mean, yeah, but, come on now isn't this a bit, um, a bit--"

"What!"

"I mean, can't we like, slow-"

"Slow?!"

"Yeah!  I mean no!  I mean, I mean, isn't this like a bit too, I thought that maybe we could just, you know, you know, you know, yeek!"

After tripping over various articles like the couch, his feet, the carpet, some small object had finally managed to trip Gohan onto his ass again, eyes wide and still terrified.

"We could what?"

"Um, kiss?"

Vegeta said nothing.  He simply glared, his lips curled up and teeth bared.

Gohan grinned the weak grin of the despairingly terrified.  Vegeta stared and drew in a breath as he took a step closer. 

He jerked slightly as he restrained himself from jumping the boy and putting an end it, and end to it all.  That smell…

There was that damn smell again.  There was that goddamned familiar foul smell again, oiling and dripping it's way into everything.  He fought the impulse to vomit.

He forced himself to take a slow breath.  He started to say something, blinked, and started again.

"Virgin?"

"Um, yes?"  //…nearly…//

"Hn.  Take off your pants."

"But I thought-"

"Shut up boy and take your goddamned pants off or I will!"

Gohan's eyes brightened, the grin dropped and his ki spiked viciously.  Vegeta stopped advancing.  He tilted his head the side, and surprisingly, chuckled.

"You afraid of me boy?"

"Yes."


"Afraid it'll hurt?"

"…Yes."

"Hn."


Vegeta walked towards him again, and Gohan escalated his ki in response.  His eyes glowed teal, power flicking from pathetic to phenomenal in the space of seconds.

Vegeta dropped onto his haunches in front of him.

"You shouldn't start something you aren't willing to finish boy."

Gohan said nothing.

"They would have torn you apart on Vegeta-sei."


Gohan said nothing, but his eyes narrowed and darkened.  Vegeta smirked deepened, and his voice lowered to rough wind against wood. 

"Drop you power boy, I'm not going to rape you."

"You first."

Black met teal. 

Gohan frowned uncertainly, and dropped his power.  Vegeta smirked.

"You break into my house to grope me and tie to a chair and you're worried that I'll rape you?"

"Yes," shot out the reply.

"Idiot."

There was a pause.

"I'm sorry." 

Vegeta snickered. 


"No you're not."

"No.  No I'm not."  There was that same old anger.  "But…I want this gone Vegeta.  I want it gone now."

"Take the pills.  Wait it out."

"The pills aren't working, and I have no idea how long this will last, and neither do you.  Months, years even.  I can't, I won't wait that long."

"It won't be some slap-shod fix, it'll be permanent, boy?  Forever, for as long as one of us is alive," Vegeta purred dangerously, smirking.  Such naïveté was vaguely disgusting and humorous.  What the hell, right?

Vegeta trailed his fingers along Gohan's bangs.  Gohan jumped a little, and he fought the impulse to laugh in his face.  Even through the deep smell of fear, he could still smell the boy's own signature…


"What do you mean?"

"I mean you'll still come to me.  Go through with it now and you won't be able to forget it or put it behind you.  I'll be stuck with you."

"Would you hate me so much for that?"

Hate?

"…Wait it out."


"No.  Now…I want you now.  And if you don't mind…then I won't mind now going into what will be."

I could take him.  I could take him now and he wouldn't fight. 

"You won't like what you're asking."

"I don't care!  I want it gone now.  Please Vegeta.  I'll do anything you want, anything at all.  Please?  I'll do anything, just help me."

Anything?  Anything, well, that is something.  Tempting.  But you don't mean a word of it, do you?  Not really.

"It'll hurt."

"That's fine."

"Idiot."

"I know."

The boy looked up timidly and smiled shyly.  It was nice to have someone to talk to again.  Vegeta wasn't even glaring anymore, just looked a little smug, a little uncertain, and scrutinizing. 

"Thank you."

"Hn."

"So.  Where do we start?"

"Take off your pants."

Gohan's face blushed and his eyes widened, //he's not serious// while Vegeta exhaled softly under his breath.

"Or is that too much for you to handle?"

//he's serious.  no doubt about it.//

Gohan's hands moved slowly to his pants button, and undid it, sliding down the zipper, each click of the teeth sharp and tangible in the quiet.  He started to pull the labels down, blushing heavily, and stopped when Vegeta closed his hand over his. 

Gohan exhaled quickly.

Nervous coal met cool obsidian, confusion met clarity. 

Vegeta's hand was warm, his eyes intense and ciphering, watching the fear and resolution in the other.  He smirked suddenly, gripped Gohan's hand hard in his own and pressed down gently.  Gohan twitched, his eyes widened and Vegeta felt something throb.  Gohan blushed.

"Hn.  Not here.  Bedroom."

Vegeta started to pull his hand away until Gohan grabbed it, a bit surprised by his own actions, resolutely refusing to meet Vegeta's eyes while he kept his hand too close to his lap and held on.  Vegeta watched quietly as Gohan pressed his hand against his stomach, and covered it with his own.

//that's not for you.  that's for me.//

Vegeta didn't add pressure or move, kept relaxed as the boy did what he liked, rubbing his thumb over his hand before dragging it up his chest to rub against his cheek, making a small sound and a soft shudder. 

Gohan didn't want to be touched, he was trying to get used to the idea of Vegeta's skin and heat. 

Well, that was…fine.  Expected, in it's way.  At this point, with the boy's scent and heat and flesh right there, Vegeta didn't give a damn.

Gohan was desperate, hungry, visible in how he acted like a cat now, rubbing it under his jaw and over his cheek and across his eyes, getting the nerve to lick from Vegeta's elbow to kiss his wrist and suck against his palm.  He was making some sort of needy, whimpering purr that made Vegeta's legs clench.

Gohan was terrified. 

He wouldn't look at Vegeta, wouldn't even open his eyes.  He said he was a virgin, which he was in more ways than the simple defining.  This wasn't unlike the situation in the kitchen except (a) Vegeta was in control, (b) Gohan was more openly terrified, (c) Gohan was under control.

The boy started to sniff Vegeta's skin, purring low in his throat and smiling hazily, his eyes slid shut, sucking alternately on Vegeta's knuckles and fingers.  The boy was going into a trance, back into Heat. 

So easily?

"Boy."

Gohan's eyes snapped open, irritated and possessive and lusty haziness.  Once his eyes met Vegeta's, the haze burned from his eyes, surprise and doubt with a shade of curiosity.

He took his mouth slowly from Vegeta's hand and held it tighter in his own, unable to break the other's gaze. 

"Yeah?"

The boy's voice was shaky, thin, yet clear.  Vegeta's voice was anything but shaky; it was low, textured, and lukewarm.

"You sure?  I'm not going to waste a night fucking you just because you're scared of the dark."

Gohan wanted to stare at anything else, anything else at all than the deep darks he can feel incinerating his soul, and wants nothing more than to dive into the depths and be burned alive. 

He smiled weakly.

"You have someone else in mind?"

"None of your damn business."

"Yes.  Yes I'm sure it isn't."

Vegeta frowns, but Gohan continues before the sentence can leave his lips. 

"I am afraid, I know.  But I'm still willing to go for it.  If you are.  I mean, how bad can it be, right?"

"Bastard!  Go fuck-"

"I didn't mean that!"  Gohan clung to Vegeta's arm and was thrown forward a little as Vegeta pulled back sharply.  "You know I didn't mean that."

Gohan smiled suddenly, anxious, and leaned forward to brush a kiss against the elder's lips. 

"And I'm not gay either."

Vegeta pulled in a breath, and repressed a shiver at the smell.  He was momentarily pacified, but not much.

"Liar."

"Heh.  Nope.  Just me.  Just you.  Come on."

Gohan began to stand, holding onto the elder's hand to pull him up with him.  Vegeta had other ideas though.  Vegeta rushed his body up and against  the boy's, pinning him into the wall and kissing him the most sensual and heavy kiss it shouldn't even have the right to be called that. 

Touches that intimate belonged in a category all of their own. 

He expected Gohan to pull away, to whimper, to try and stop him. 

To be the little fucking tease of Kakkarott's son that he had always been.

What Vegeta hadn't expected was a response. 

Gohan was submissive, hungry, yet eager and willing, opening his mouth and dancing his tongue with Vegeta's, the admirable hands wrapping around his back and massaging the muscles.

Vegeta pulled back and Gohan stared at him from under dark lashes, eyes black and misty ebony and put his tongue out to lick his lips.  His scent was right there.

Fuck.

The Gohan's fingers combed through the dark hair, while his lips played back submissive and pliable, his body in a forced relax, his control holding on to the aloof and distant school boy image he'd always been while Vegeta laughed at the irony and the fire in the other's pants. 

But he didn't hurry him. 

Vegeta wanted to, could feel the blood and power the screamed his name and touch and longed to scream in response…but not for the boy.  Not that fast.  Gohan wore his mark now, and while it cut out the chemical static and played too many aphrodisiacs into his system, it also guaranteed the boy's place by his side. 

There---was time. 

Their tongues hustled slowly between them, and Vegeta growled a vibration just the feel the boy's control crack and fingers pull his hair and press a little closer to him. 

Gohan had surrendered, and he had total control over his claimer.  Over his supposed "dominant".

Vegeta smirked. 

They never did make it to the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~

A/N:

Hallo.  It's me here.  Um…right.  Can be reached at gelfling8604@yahoo.com, and if you want to send me anything there that's cool.  Yeah.  Sorry if this was a little confusing.  I didn't think it was, compared to the other stuff –say Faulkener-but I still kind of thought it might be.  Hope not though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:  Hello.  Er…this fic started in my head in jolts and was then put down on paper somewhere to be typed up, resulting in what you read now.  Up to now, I've never really thought that there may have been big gaps in the story that were not written down, and if there were, weren't really big gaps at all.  Sorry if there has been, and to try and fix it so there isn't any confusion. 

Facts:

During the Majiin Buu series, it's hard to tell if Vegeta is really stronger than Gohan(after the Old Kai's training) or if they are actually equal.  I'm not sure.  I'm putting Gohan the physically stronger one in here.

I've always thought a mating-bond is a type of severe mental link with someone else.  If it's stretched by distance or shut down, it feels like somebody's shut off a part of your own mind.  That's a little scary and could make you go insane.  Both Gohan and Vegeta are experiencing that or something like it: this is a two-sided bond.  I've heard of one-sided ones where the other person's opinion doesn't matter, and this one isn't it. 

You need both person's "Ok's" to make this type of bonding concrete. 

The only way to reincorporate the missing part of one's mind is to accept the other bond partner.  I do believe that if the bond was desired to be broken, death could accomplish that, and only one person would die, and then their mate would either be very sad for a long time, or would get a new mate.  Saiyans fought a lot, and people who fight a lot tend to die a lot.  Their race would have been exterminated a lot quicker if people started dying in two's instead of one's, and I've made it so that bonding is instinctual, not really voluntary.  Watching the Vegeta-sei raised Saiyans-Turles, Vegeta, Bardock, yadda yadda-it seems all Saiyans seem a little, or a lot, pissed at the universe at general for existing.  Could be biological.

Since Gohan marked-bit Vegeta first, he's the dominant male, and is supposed to appear more aggressive and moody, and through current life-threatening situations, is also physically stronger, since the more contact a Saiyan has with death the stronger he becomes.  Since Vegeta was the one who was marked, he's supposed to be the submissive male, and since he's Vegeta and a Saiyan with supposed training in telepathy, he's also probably the most mentally sane and in control of himself, but physically weaker than normal.

They are both feeling pretty sick, because their bodies and biology are out of whack, and likely experiencing depression and/or anxiety.  I feel kind of bad to do that, since I've only seen small hints of what true depression is and it isn't a pretty sight, and I feel like I'm shortchanging it in my writing since I don't really understand it. 

Both people are denying any relationship pretty heavily, since the initial bond-mark-bite episode wasn't exactly consensual or planned. 

In this case, the bonding is an accident.

Sorry if any of this seemed a little redundant.  Wasn't sure what needed to be said and what didn't, so I said it all instead.

Gohan's style of thinking and writing is modeled after me.  It just seemed to work, and so I did it.  Not meant to be conceited or anything, it's just that if he sounds different from Vegeta or gets more attention than Vegeta does, that's why.  It works.