Author:              Kiarene

Pairings:            Vegeta/Mirai

Disclaimer:        Don’t own DBZ

Published:         14th Febuary 2004

Archive?            Please ask first

Warnings          Incest. Unbeta-ed.

 

 

Sons

 

6th Scrawling

 

Mirai Trunks’ POV

 

 

 

Trunks had already left but I remain in the bathroom, where I had inadvertently overheard his confession. I didn't know how to react.

 

Initially, I was shocked that he felt that way towards Vegeta, but when I considered my own situation, though admittedly not the same, was ironically similar. Then I felt sorry for him and guilty that I was, in essence, taking his father from him.

 

However, all that was burned away in the hot flash of my jealousy when he stepped foward to kiss Vegeta clumsily, and I had almost revealed my presence for nobody lays claim on MY mate, when Vegeta pushed him away. I had forced myself to remain in place, trusting Vegeta to handle him.

 

Finally, still in somewhat of a stupor, I pad slowly across to room to my mate who is, by the looks of it, hardly any better.

 

"I take it that you heard," Vegeta says as he sit down on the bed.

 

"Yeah," I growl. "What a brat."

 

Vegeta looks at me sharply. "Don't confront him. He doesn't know what he's doing."

 

"Yes he does! He knew very well what he was doing, with the dragonball wishes and all," I bit back.  "He knew we were mated — he told me as much this morning after I left the room — but he still went ahead to make that wish..."

 

"He's just a boy, Mirai." Vegeta gets all protective and suddenly I'm hit by an irrational pang of jealousy. There's no denying that Vegeta loves Trunks; he spends time with the boy that my father had never been able to spend with me.  Even Goku, who was openly affectionate with Gohan when he was still alive, never gave his sons that simple but infintely precious gift. Time.

 

"I think," Vegeta pauses, trailing off as his brow furrows in thought. "I think perhaps we should delay our departure tommorrow."

 

"Why?" I know I probably sound petulant.

 

"I need to talk to him again, explain to him," Vegeta starts to remove his clothing for sleep. He stays on the bed while doing so, pulling the thin shirt over his head and squirming out of his pants, slim hips canting up and wriggling. I eye him openly, leering as I strip as well.

 

"I don't want to leave on this sour note," he says quietly. "Trunks is as important to me as you."

 

"Vegeta..." I hesitate as I climb onto the bed. "What *do* you think of his wish? I mean, what he said about... being a full-blooded Saiyajin..."

 

He raises a brow and I flush. "Ano..."

 

"You have nothing to be jealous about." He doesn't answer my question, not directly, and I feel silly. It's disgraceful. I am a full-grown man, a *warrior*, and I'm jealous of a whelp half my age. Vegeta and I have been together since *he* was just a squalling baby!

 

"Sorry," I whisper as I cuddle beside him.

 

The warm circle of arms around me tightens with a amused chuckle. "It's cute."

 

"Cute?!” I had never thought I would hear the prince of Saiyajins use that word! “Well, maybe if you were the one getting chased..."

 

"Shut up."

 

Hands frisk down my sides, and I shriek like a woman, squirming desperately to get away from those *evil* fingers. When he finally stops, I am a huffing limp bundle under him, my wrists pinned above me. And he — my breath catches — he’s looming above me with a wicked grin.

 

“Oh, very cute,” he purrs as he moves closer, and tastes, licks me. Devours me whole.

 

~

 

Some time later, I find myself out on the balcony. Vegeta's room has a little balcony attached, not big enough that he can grow a minature jungle like Bulma's mother, but just enough for him to take off and land comfortably. It is also just big enough for two people with a thick quilt to snuggle on a cold night.

 

My eyes are closed and the sun is warm on my face. I can see why cats love it. Suddenly, I feel a familiar ki nearby and I tense. But I pretend to ignore it—

 

"You think you’re so great …"

 

—ignore it ignore it—

 

"You think, no way he’ll fall for that brat, even if he is a full Saiyajin, even if he looks just like me except that he’s younger and he’s got a tail…"

 

—ignore it grrrr ignore ignore—

 

Satisfying fantasies of strangling said brat dance tantilizingly before me. Or better still, turn that spoilt kid on my knee.

 

"You think you don’t have to worry…”

 

I snap to my feet and pivot around to enter the bedroom so fast there’s a faint crack in the air. I know it looks like I’m running and I can just *feel* his smug smirk but I know if I stay any longer, I’ll do something I’ll regret. Not that I will regret spanking that *brat* but that Vegeta would be pissed.

 

He flies off, mocking laughter tainting the air.

 

~

 

The house is quiet after dinner, and Vegeta and I are standing on the little porch behind the kitchen, talking quietly in the hushed tones people tend to take at night.

 

“Do you ever think about looking for more Saiyajins, Vegeta? You know, to rebuild…”

 

“Hn.” Vegeta grunts. “What the point?”

 

I *look* at him and he shifts uncomfortably. “How many can I find? Frieza had been through in his slaughter.”

 

“But what if some survive?”

 

He stares up into the night sky, a hollow look in his eyes. Finally, he replies, “I cannot face them.”

 

My eyes widen in sudden understanding. He continues, voice like broken glass. “They all thought I would be the savior of our race, you know? I had thought so too.”

 

“But…”

 

He goes on, as if he hadn’t heard me. “And after Kakarrot killed Frieza, I… I didn’t know what I did. For so long, my life had been consumed by the thought of killing him that I didn’t know what to do after that piece of shit’s dead.”

 

“Vegeta, it doesn’t matter who killed…”

 

“And one thing led to another; I was obsessed with ascending, then the androids, and then…” his voice trails off momentarily. “And then, here we are now. I should have been looking for survivors, I should have been rebuilding my race, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to think about it. I told myself that there was no point, that no one survived. And even if a few did, how could you possibly rebuild an entire race on a few?”

 

“There are techniques to splice genes for diversity and—” I offer breathlessly, my mind spinning with possibilities.

 

Vegeta makes a dismissive, disgusted sound.

 

“Well, I’m just tossing up ideas.” I sigh and move closer, wrapping my arms around him. The night air is fragrant with nocturnal blooms. Peaceful. I regret bringing up such a painful topic.

 

“But I wouldn’t have you otherwise.” He turns around and whispers against my lips. “So I don’t regret it at all, the selfish creature that I am.”

 

“Oh.” I trace the contour of his top lip with my tongue, enjoying the warm exchange of sweet breath. “If only…”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Vegeta licks me, wet and slow. And I’m losing my train of thought. “If only you could have both.”

 

“What do you mean?” He pulls away, kissing me at the corner of my mouth now. “Continue.”

 

“If only you could have both me, and your people. I mean, I’ve a time-machine.” My hands splay over his back, rubbing and roaming. “What if—”

 

“What if we went back? When? To stop Frieza?” He shakes his head. “But what then? Do we stay in that time? I don’t think I could fit in; what about my younger self? Who would be the real Vegeta, who would rule?

 

“And if we came back, what would we come back to? If Frieza never killed my people, I would have never come to Earth… We wouldn’t have anything to come back to.”

 

“I guess I never thought of that.” I frown. Looking up, I catch sight of an angry pair of blue eyes, in the window in the darkened kitchen, and my frown deepens.

 

I kiss Vegeta hard.

 

“I know what you’re doing,” he whispers when we pull apart, an amused glint in his eyes.

 

“Do you care?’ I slide my hands down to cup the firm globes of his buttocks.

 

“Not really—“

 

“Good.” Then I kiss him again, pulling him hard up against me and he gasps, a soft bruised sound. I imagine fondly I can hear the grinding of teeth in the distance. It isn’t a kiss as it is a branding display.

 

I tilt my head, eyes still wide open as I look over Vegeta’s shoulder, and I catch *his* furious eyes with a smirk.

 

~

 

I was just about to pass out, so wonderfully sated and limp, when I suddenly mumble, “I love you.”

 

God. That sounded so …weird. I mean, I do love him but the timing… My arms tighten around him. Why should I care how stupid that sounded? It’s the truth. Maybe I can write the awkwardness off to lack of blood in the brain, or lack of brain even, because it just all went south and out over my belly.

 

Vegeta grunts and murmurs indulgently without opening his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

 

Reaching down to the rapidly cooling semen on my belly, I coat my fingers with it and trail the sticky fluid along the curve of Vegeta’s neck and down his chest, and then up again to the other side of his neck. When Vegeta doesn’t say anything but continues to lie there, breathing slowly, I grow bolder. Dipping my fingers in the drying puddle on my stomach again, I reach over and trace my name is tiny, squiggly hieroglyphs on his taut belly.

 

“What *are* you doing?” He finally asks slowly.

 

What am I doing? I smile and then started giggling softly. “Branding you as mine.”

 

There was a pregnant pause, and my hand stills. Then he smirks — I can feel *it* in the dark.

“Damn, I’m good. Must have really fucked you silly this time.

 

I giggle some more. Definitely fucked silly.

 

“It’s like you’re some animal marking territory.”

 

“Yup, exactly like that.”

 

“You don’t have to, you know.”

 

“I want to.”

 

“It’s *sticky*,” the Saiyajin prince whines petulantly.

 

“You don’t see me complaining about your come’s that leaking from my ass.” I hum happily, now wiping up the last bit from me and smearing it all over his cock. “Mine. All mine.”

 

“Whatever.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes closing again. “Shut up and sleep now before I have to hurt you.”

 

“What could you do?” I ask cheekily, seeing how tired he is. For some strange reason, I don’t feel sleepy now.

 

“Tie you to the bed posts and and gag you. Then I’ll leave the dildo up your ass the entire night while I sleep.” The prompt threat came back. “And I’ll turn it *on*.”

 

Sighing, I wipe my fingers on the sheet and close my eyes, trying to sleep. I was counting his breaths, noting how they are slowing down, when another thought strikes me. “Hey, would you not bathe tommorrow? Leave my come on you—“

 

For someone who’s supposed to be *tired* and on the verge of sleeping, he can sure move fast.

 

I *really* couldn’t sleep after that. *He* slept like a baby, a smirk splitting his face.

 

~

 

And so it goes like this for a few days. Trunks taunts me and I retaliate. Razzing and sneering back and forth like two grubby kids on a playground. We weren’t subtle, not us.

 

And Vegeta often snickers at us.

 

Trunks is audacious — a touch here, an innuendo there. Every day that we linger here, after Vegeta had originally announced at that party that we would be leaving the morning after, he gets more smugly confident.

 

Vegeta is amused, I am not. Vegeta insists that he’s talking to Trunks, that Trunks is slowly coming around and that he’s accepting our relationship. Vegeta insists that we *would* leave soon, but what’s a few more days as compared to a lifetime together?

 

Trunks is more accepting of us? Trunks will give up? I snort and roll my eyes in disgust. What an actor. But I grit my teeth and let it go because I know that brat hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell. I am the one who’s in bed with Vegeta every night, not him.

 

Until I came out from the lab one night, where I had been tinkering with the time-machine, and I see them—

 

They’re pressed against the side of the gravity room, outlined sharply by the bright moonlight, chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Trunks has Vegeta pinned, but Vegeta doesn’t seem to be trying very hard to break free.

 

I gawk, horrified and furious and I know I should be doing something but the neurons in my brain are all misfiring and my limbs just don’t *work*.

 

“Stop it Trunks. I mean it — I don’t wish to hurt you,” Vegeta pants raggedly. One of his hands is pinned above him, the other is shoving at Trunks’ chest.

 

“Please, Dad.” A muffled growl as Trunks kisses him. Trunks is shaking, large tremors rippling through his body, his tail whipping around wildly. I can even smell the heady phermones from here.

 

Vegeta twists his head away. “I know it’s overwhelming. It’s just a physical reaction, just hormones you’ve never learned to control because—“

 

“Please please, oh god I’m so—“ Trunks arches back, head shaking wildly, “—so hot Dad—“

 

“Ssh.” Vegeta stops struggling and his free hand stops trying to push Trunks away. Instead he wraps his arm around Trunks, stroking his back soothingly. 

 

My vision abruply hazes red and I clench my fists, howling. Around me, the ground splinters.

 

~*~

 

Onto 7th scrawling

 

Back to 5th scrawling

 

Back to DBZ Yaoi Series





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