Caught in the Act
Act Three: The Plot
Tugging the cockeyed comforter more firmly about his slumbering figure, the demi-Saiyan did not seek release from his dreams to answer the incessant call-those fantasy arms that encased his weary form; that hot, seductive breath that warmed the coolness of his neck in the frigid morning hours; a soft, draping appendage that loosely claimed the territory of his muscled thigh...
"Goten! Get up!"
"Mmm...not now, Vegeta...five more minutes..." The young Son's dark brow ceased in momentary consternation, face finding comfort in the thick feather softness of his pillow, which he brought closer to his body with one clasping hand. The light, cloying scent of sex and Saiyan wrapped around his body like a shield from reality, driving him deeper into his subconscious awareness.
"Goten!" Snapping into an upright position, the warmth of the quilt fell away from his chest, exposing his build to the unforgiving Autumn air.
"Huh? Wha..." Raking a dazed hand through wild hair the colour of midnight, made more so by the night of sleep it had suffered, Goten looked around confused. The irritated voice proceeded to shrill again, earning a wince from the rumpled demi-Saiyan. No, that definitely was not Vegeta's voice that barked out orders from beyond the barricade of his door. Hand in hand with disappointment trailed embarrassment, the impact of last night's activities slugging him hard as he pushed aside the bundle of patchwork material that had conformed to the imprint of his resting figure to reveal his state of unfashionable disarray.
Oh, Dende...A violent rap that shook the feeble wooden frame of the door saved him from immediate distress by forcing the heart that had already begun to throb sporadically against his ribs to attempt the flying leap to his throat.
"I-I'm up, mother!" He forced the stubborn hemisphere in his brain that controlled speech to function, glancing with wide, focusing eyes on the alarm clock beside the bed. Angry scarlet letters mocked him from the nightstand, confirming his fear: 7:43. He was going to be late for school. Somehow it must have slipped his mind-his nightly habit of setting the alarm before he went to sleep had been...overlooked.
"K'so!" Jumping up from his bed, Goten left the welcoming warmth and lingering safety that had been granted to him through his dreams. He was still dressed-all he had to do was straighten up and run a brush through his hair...
Fumbling with the metal latch on his pants, Goten's wishful thoughts took a detour from his ideal reality. The fire that snaked a serpentine path to his cheeks only reminded him more strongly of the questions he had raised before he had drifted off into the beauty of escape that came with sleep. His slacks were in no condition to be worn in public...
Cursing in words and phrases that he could only have learned from growing up around Vegeta, Goten ripped the khaki coloured clothing off his body, tripping as he stepped toward his dresser and one obstinate foot clung to the leg of his pants. He wasn't going to make it-he was going to be late for school and the minute he walked out that door, she was going to tear into him like a famished beast. The demi-Saiyan groaned, swearing vocally at what he knew lay just beyond the wall.
Black eyes slowly turned to glance at the door behind him. His mother's grating calls had ceased immediately at his response. She was no doubt waiting in the kitchen, ready to pounce as he left the room, daring him to try to sneak past her out the front door. Dende, he really didn't want to have to deal with that this morning. The dumbfounding realization that he had experienced last night was enough for his bewildered mind to digest without her adding to the turbulence of his emotions.
A sly expression found its unlikely way to Goten's lips as he pulled loose a folded pair of his favourite blue jeans. He was already in trouble for last night's outburst...The smirk deepened as he thrust his legs through the cool, relaxed, easy fitting fabric. And he'd never skipped school before...the uncharacteristic prospect sent a wicked thrill through his muscular frame. Now he knew how Gohan felt-he was so disgusted with being unfalteringly good all the damn time and still having his irrational mother constantly on his case. Well, today he was going to do something he wanted to do, and to hell with anyone who sought to protest.
"Heh, why not go for broke," he muttered, unbuttoning the starched long sleeve shirt of his uniform, now crumpled and wrinkled with creases, stained by the product of his adolescent desire. Tossing it carelessly onto the bed, one hand dove into the depths of his dresser drawer, freeing a random black turtleneck which he promptly shoved his head through. Something within him had shattered last night, something human-he had never felt so alive, so on the verge of breaking free as he did looking back on the evening in retrospect. The kindling anger, the resulting performance...it brought forth within him untapped strength and fostering will that he had never known himself to possess. Goten was fairly certain that if he attempted the mundane act of going to school he was going to snap altogether.
With one leg balanced on the sill of his window, the demi-Saiyan worked to ease the latch without alerting his watchful mother of his impending jailbreak. The glass panel slid upward in hesitant jerks, eventually discarding its Autumn seal and opening without incident. Brisk, dawn air danced merrily into the room, teasing his unruly hair to tangle and heightening the boy's wild sensation.
"Double or nothing," the demi-Saiyan whispered in the direction of his door, and his mother, sucking his lower lip in through his teeth and pausing in fleeting uncertainty. But the promise of another lovely day was carried in on the breeze and it seemed a sin to spend it sitting in an overheated, constricting classroom, worrying about the lecture he received when he returned home late again.
Launching upward, using the sturdy frame to propel his weight, Goten took to the skies. Vegeta was always up at this early hour...and the prince had a promise to keep.
Confidence sang like a drug through his veins as Goten landed on the Brief's doorstep, opting to simply walk through the entrance rather than perform the formal ritual of knocking. This was where he had grown up too, dammit, and no amount of the other demi-Saiyan's insistent distancing was going to change where he called home. His momentum was slightly tempered as the warm scent of ham and toasting breads assailed his nostrils, his stomach joining in the grumbling chorus that served to inform him of the fact that he hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day. Chichi had been cruel enough to see the demi-Saiyan in bed without his evening meal. Heh, like I could have choked it down anyway...
Listening to the door swing shut, a firm, palpable joining of wood to frame, Goten walked purposefully down the hallway to the kitchen.
"Goten!" The woman that addressed him was seated at the head of the empty table, befitting her station in the household and clothed in a vivid red business suit, her forgotten cup of coffee growing cold at her side. Trust Bulma's taste in attire to worsen with age, though the form she covered had done miraculously well. Capsule Corp's small line of age-defying products had increased with each birthday of its president.
"Sit! Have breakfast with us! Gosh, it's been so long...The kids are still getting ready, but they should be down soon." The woman's perky smile persuaded his own to lengthen and he slipped easily into the place he had often occupied at the table when he was younger.
"Arigato, Bulma-san..." Goten sported a classic Son smile as the woman just nodded, rising to fetch him the promised meal.
A plate heaped with quality cooking was set before his starved eyes and he hastily attacked the mass with lustrous abandon, swallowing the delectable morsels with renewed relish. Dende, it was good to be back! Damn Trunks for making him feel unwelcome! He should have done this months ago...He was actually starting to fully enjoy the lost feeling of comfort when Bulma-san began to speak.
"You're just like your father!" Goten stopped dead, the sharp end of a fork stuck securely in his mouth as he devoured the bit of ham that he had skewered. The food turned to ashes on his tongue as he focused on swallowing, his gag reflex responding double time to her affectionate words.
"I swear, you even look like him at that age..." A slim fingered hand ran with motherly fondness through his raven locks and he fought not to jerk from her touch. The young Son despised being compared to that man and he had thought, for just an instant, that he would be able to emerge from his shadow...
"Woman, would you leave the boy alone? He needs to eat, not listen to you rant about his deadbeat father." Dende, thank you, Vegeta-san...The demi-Saiyan's heart entertained his body with a rapid cadence as the Saiyan appeared silently out of the darkness of the doorway. Those same arms he had fantasized about last night were interlaced across his chest, beautiful hands braced against each opposite bicep. Fuck, if he didn't watch himself, he was going to swiftly lose control of his body...Heh, maybe that wasn't so bad...
"Vegeta, Goku is not a bad father!" Goten stared down at his plate, the feeling of freedom that had greeted him with the sun beginning a rapid descent to be replaced by something else...
"Hn. I'm not about to waste my time debating with you on the pathetic state of Kakarott's parenting. You almost ready, boy?" The demi-Saiyan's dark eyes flashed upward, the unexplored emotion that rippled just below the surface simmering down to merge with his normal passivity. Expansive pools of shimmering black crystal seemed to swallow him whole and Goten found that he couldn't look away, couldn't move, couldn't do more than lose himself in that fiery gaze that consumed him so violently, yet chilled him to the core. And yet he wanted to lose himself in so much more than his eyes...
"Goten?" Bulma's surprised inquiry bringing the world back into perspective for the demi-Saiyan. "I thought you were here to see Trunks..."
As if on cue, the house echoed with pounding footsteps that raced down the stairs, causing the very foundation of the house to groan in protest. Goten's entire body tensed as he anticipated the sight of the older demi-Saiyan, the awkwardness of such a meeting making him wish that he hadn't just eaten; Trunks rounded the corner with his characteristic grace. And stopped short as he spotted the young Son sitting at the table as though time had never passed and their relationship had never changed.
Of all the emotions that Goten was ready to acknowledge, somehow anger was not one he was familiar with. It briefly amused him that it seemed to be the only one, besides embarrassment that he had ready access to these days. What a variety.
"G-Goten..." The look that flit across the pale face of his lavender haired counterpart was almost priceless. Fear, guilt...Bet you thought I would just fade away after that little stunt you pulled at school, telling me in public that you didn't see me that way...just so no one else would think that you were gay after those rumours started. Brilliant move, Trunks. It worked. Though my mother pulling me out because of it never crossed your mind, did it? Selfish bastard.
"Hai, Vegeta. I'm ready," Goten spoke calmly, smoothly, pushing deliberately to his feet, holding the other's gaze with relentless conviction. Son Goten had had enough of catering to the whims of others-he was sick of feeling sick, betrayed, wondering when the other boy would come to his senses. In a moment of severe clarity, the dark haired demi-Saiyan knew he never would. Trunks would no longer be the image he brought to mind when seeking comfort.
Sparkling blue eyes that once held his heartsick soul enraptured only hardened his resolve as he straightened his back and squared his shoulders. It may have been his imagination, but he thought the other man shrunk slightly as he walked forward to join the Saiyan prince and the sweet taste it left in his mouth satisfied him like nothing else he had ever indulged in. Shifting his ebony eyes, like looking the other demi-Saiyan in the eye was beneath him, Goten settled on a picture much more pleasant to his abused senses.
The Saiyan prince had obviously absorbed every unspoken word-from Goten's unforgiving glance to the guilty expression that marred his son's elegant features. Grunting, Vegeta locked onto Goten's determined gaze and for the first time in his life, the boy did not buckle under the intensity. Arching one beautifully sculpted brow, the Saiyan returned his unwavering stare. A flicker of amusement though barely there, was enough to resume the tragic pulsing of Goten's newly focused heart. That single glance was like a bridge between them-on the other side lay Goten's salvation, his desire, his redemption. The ache Trunks had left in his chest was nothing compared to the throb he felt in the presence of his father. Vegeta had never spurned him, or cast him aside, and while the older man may not have carried the same affection that the young Son shouldered, the demi-Saiyan was certain that he could convince the prince otherwise. He was just feeling that lucky today.
"Where are you going?" Dammit, onna, can't you ever just mind your own fucking business? Vegeta was mildly surprised when the usually timid and stuttering figure of Kakarott's youngest boy cast a glittering glare of triumph at his own son before it softened into the mockery of a smile for the woman that had addressed him.
"Vegeta-san was kind enough to help me with a school project," The voice was almost sickly sweet with leashed contempt. "Trunks was just too busy." Ebony eyes caught paling blue counterparts as he turned toward the prince.
"You're helping him, Papa?" The Saiyan scoffed quietly, scowling at his open mouthed offspring. Again, the Son beat him to the punch, prohibiting the defensive words that flickered over his lips from being uttered.
"Hai, Trunks. Vegeta was honourable enough to offer after you were...detained yesterday." Dende-sama, there was enough aggression surrounding the boy it made the prince wonder if Goten wasn't more Saiyan than he had initially suspected. He may have aided in his raising, but Vegeta had learned early on not to take anything about those damn Sons for granted. The tension hung heavy in the morning; the prince could almost taste it, thick and rich on his tongue. It stirred his blood, awakened his fighting instinct. Perhaps this was the challenge that he had been anticipating. He absently wondered what it would take to make the passive boy attack him...
"Mama! I can't find my other shoe!" The house moaned again in annoyance as footsteps pounded mercilessly on the carpet of the stairs, shattering the eventful silence into jagged patches of uncertainty. Vegeta watched amused as his daughter stalked into the room, glaring as though each individual in sight was the culprit and responsible for her lost accessory. Her features softened as they fell upon the youngest Son. The prince winced in pain as she squealed in excitement, throwing herself into the demi-Saiyan's embrace, one hand crazily grasping a shiny black shoe that thunked against the back of Goten's shoulder blade as she wrapped her skinny arms around his neck.
"How's my little Butterfly, eh?" The prince's eyes slid unnoticed to his eldest, who stood slumped against the door as though trying to fade into the tacky wallpaper. The darker demi-Saiyan was purely vindictive in his crusade, calling the girl by her brother's nickname, blatantly glaring at the lavender haired boy over her shoulder, gripping the child possessively. He could almost see the word mine written on his unsmiling lips. This kid is nothing like his father. Vegeta almost didn't catch his own grin as it snuck onto his regal features. Then again, both of Kakarott's boys had proven to be entertaining and surprising in the man's absence.
"You going to come help your father and me like you promised, Bra-chan?" Goten rewarded her with a genuine smile of affection as he set her back on her feet. "Maybe when you get back from school, ne?" The disappointment in her brilliant blue eyes evaporated as she smiled broadly in return.
"Hai, Go-kun! Right after school, I promise!" Vegeta shook his head thoughtfully. There was something here that he was missing...had his boy brushed off the Son's advances? Is that were this possessively uncharacteristic anger had spawned? Was his disgustingly human heir dallying with ningens instead of mating with the man that obviously wanted him?
As he turned back from his despicably cringing son, Goten's deep, glistening eyes boldly searched his own; the prince nodded once with a grunt of agreement before pivoting from his position and walking toward the side door. The boy would follow; he could hear him offer up a farewell to all in the room as he trailed after Vegeta.
This new development gave him cause to think. There was something about the darker demi-Saiyan's daring nature that made his tail want to twitch.
The morning sunlight was warm and softly inviting on the Saiyan's shoulders through the chillness of the air as he stepped onto the stretch of grass between the house and the gravity room, pausing, though he would never admit it, to relish in its soothing golden light. He felt the demi-Saiyan stop beside him, and he was grateful for his silence. Hn. Like his father indeed. The boy knows when to keep his mouth shut. Unlike that baka father of his.
Standing in the Autumn sunshine with Kakarott's brat was oddly soothing to the Saiyan prince. Perhaps it was the potential Goten had shown earlier for Saiyan instinct, the menacing, calculating gleam in his onyx eyes as he visually berated the lighter demi-Saiyan. For what, the prince could only speculate, though the taste of Goten's anger had been righteously delicious. And the fact that he wasn't apologizing for it-Vegeta would not be forced to listen to the boy mumble off an excuse for his behavior. Goten seemed to have no visible regrets regarding his actions. He had thought the boy would eventually take the initiative and hunt his heir-all the signs had pointed firmly in that direction. Perhaps someone else had already done it...A pity, he could have stood to have Goten as part of his clan; the boy, while not physically strong, had a clever head on his broad shoulders. Sturdy shoulders that were beautifully defined underneath the tight black knit that stretched enticingly over his muscular frame...
What the fuck?! The Saiyan whipped his stare away from the boy and began walking toward the gravity room at a brisk pace, kicking aside the scarlet and burgundy leaves that littered the ground. Snarling quietly in agitation his velvety tail uncoiled from his waist to snap angrily behind him, distancing himself from the demi-Saiyan in an instinctual gesture. What the hell kind of thought was that? Is the boy in season? Even then it was virtually impossible for the prince to be caught off guard; he had been trained since birth to overcome natural weaknesses such as the overpowering urges associated with Saiyan mating. I didn't think demi-brats went into season anyway...I would have smelled it on Trunks...
Stopping before the chamber door, the Saiyan jerked at the handle, thrusting the door open and into the chest of the man behind him. A satisfied grin graced his lips at the surprised sound of the other man catching the metal door, following him into the dimly lit room, and shutting it quietly in his wake. Dende, it's just been too long...that's all it is. That baka onna has never satisfied me. Damn, weak ningens...His dark eyes snapped sideways as he caught the scent of the boy, and the light hint of sex that clung to his hard, youthful body. Arching a brow, Vegeta faced him fully, arms entwining across his chest. The prince appraised him without shame; even if they were the last, the boy was still nothing but a commoner. But he had inherited his father's devilishly handsome features. Dende, how he hated to be reminded. Kakarott had physically turned him on in the most humiliating of ways. If the larger Saiyan hadn't been such a damned idiot, he would have mated the man long ago. Cursing softly in the Saiyan tongue, Vegeta calmed his disobedient thoughts. Goten was a boy, and hardly a match for his superior strength. Anyone he mated would have to prove themselves worthy before ever being granted the pleasure of his bed.
Shrugging off his sidetracking thoughts, the slighter man adopted his comfortable smirk, leaning backward against the control panel behind him.
"You ready, boy?"
Liquid eyes of deepest midnight rose to meet his own, and Vegeta all but jumped at the purely predatory glint that existed in those normally gentle depths.
"Hai, Vegeta..." An airy whisper, seductive and laden with unspoken innuendoes drove his tail to fluff out behind him as the words caressed his skin with its soft intensity. Could the boy really be...hunting him? The very possibility of the thought made him laugh and he shook it off with little more than a glance. The boy was just revved up for a fight after the confrontation with his son. Goten had never given him any previous indication that he wanted his attentions, the idea of it now was just humorous.
Although...pursing his lips, the prince studied the boy again. The idea was...intriguing...and if the demi-Saiyan was offering, it was his right as the boy's prince take him if he so desired. How their relationship had come to this point, the man honestly could not say-he had seen Goten as little more than a shadow of his son, albeit more base, more instinctual...And the prospect of finding pleasure in the lean, muscled figure of Kakarott's youngest did have its appeals...
Goten licked his lips as he watched, pleasantly hypnotized with the sway of Vegeta's auburn appendage as he charged through the door, grunting when the metal was slammed against his chest, effectively breaking his tranced state as the warm air left his lungs. Oh, but he wasn't upset with the prince's actions, for the older man had just given him more reason to hope than anyone else on the planet was capable of doing. He nurtured that blooming flower with a dry, longing ache, biting his wet lip as Vegeta turned to face him, again impassive and stern, nothing like the look Goten had received a moment ago. That was desire in your eyes, Vegeta...you can't lie to me. Clouded eyes roamed freely over his taller figure and the demi-Saiyan posed with a quiet smile for the prince, ebony locks falling forward into his lowered eyes. That lovely tail was blessing his vision again with its spellbinding movement and Goten sighed softly as the Saiyan spoke.
His knowing expression increased as he closed his dark eyes, sooty lashes pressed lightly to his cheeks before opening them again to lock gazes with the prince. His heart raced roughly in his chest as Vegeta's ebony eyes widened slightly and his resolve strengthened at his disregarding laughter. You think that I'm playing with you, Vegeta? You think I don't know how to get what I want just because of my bastard sire? Clenching his fists tightly in the pockets of his pants, Goten chuckled lightly to himself. You raised me, Vegeta. You seem to have forgotten that...
Dende, that was desire locked deep with the younger man's eyes, invitation written clearly on his coy features. The swirling combination of wanting to be in control, and wanted to be controlled was apparent in the glassy look of yearning that defined his lovely eyes-dark and deep...
Vegeta purred quietly to himself as the plan formed in his mind. He faintly felt the receding ki signatures of his children as they left for school. They had time...if the little demi-brat wanted to play...This acting fiasco could be more fulfilling than he had originally planned...
"Come hither, boy..." Goten started at the abrupt change in tone and language-the prince seemed to cast aside his mocking stance, relaxing ever so slightly, a hazy smile playing sensuously on his lips. The demi-Saiyan glanced downward as his feet carried his body of its own volition, the magnitude of Vegeta's words compelling the boy to walk steadily forward. "If ever though shalt love, in the sweet pangs of it, remember me..." His breath caught raggedly in his throat at the simple beauty those words held on the Saiyan's royal tongue. Dende, Shakespeare would have wept to hear the prince chanting his life's work in such a natural, heartfelt manner. As it was, Goten himself had to check the tears that congregated in his eager eyes as he strode silently forward, enraptured by the melodic timbre that stroked his sensitive ears with all the affection of a lover's caress.
"For such as I am, all true lovers are; unstaid and skittish in all motions else, save in the constant image of the creature that is beloved." Beloved...oh, Dende-sama, how I long to hear you say my name like that...Any aggression, any will or breath to make that man his own was both muted and encouraged by those truthful words. The younger man was mesmerized by the fluidity of the old English language-it was as if the prince had been born and raised alongside the poet and knew each and every letter's proper inflection, the emotion retained in every individual phrase. Dende-sama...
"How dost thou like this tune?" Huh? Oh, yeah...the play...Goten gave his head an awakening shake back into reality. Dammit, now he had to remember the lines...
They came to him haltingly, though with a moment's thought he was able to retrieve them from the recesses of his captivated mind.
"It gives a very echo to the seat where love is throned," He replied quietly, voice gaining volume with his confidence. The Saiyan sighed softly, leaning his head back and stared at the ceiling as though caught in the thrall of music only he could hear.
"Thou dost speak masterly." Endless eyes of ebony lowered to capture his own, forcing him to look away as he swallowed, blush crawling over his heated features. 'Arigato' was forming on his lips before he caught the natural inclination, Vegeta pausing for a moment longer and than continuing his masterpiece of dialogue.
"My life upon't, young though thou art," The demi-Saiyan shifted as he felt those eyes upon him like a physical presence, the shuffle of his shoes creating a whispering echo that served to remind him more fully of his actual circumstances. "Thine eye hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves." Biting his lip almost painfully hard, Goten avoided the other's intense gaze. Dende, how does he know? Am I that obvious? Baka! It's just the play...those are his lines...don't let it slip because you've got underdeveloped delusions of grandeur...
"Hath it not, boy?" Oh, kuso...hai...Licking lips that had gone dry in his nervousness, Goten nodded silently, trying with every fiber of his adolescent being to answer the man like the character and not like the quivering boy that he was. Dende damn his teacher! This scene struck too close to home for his comfort! Oh, Dende, and the way that Vegeta spoke each line as though born to play the Duke, that royal bearing that others found so damn infuriating only strengthening his role.
"A little...by your favour..." Stuffing his sweaty hands further into his pockets, the youngest Son dared a sideways glance at the object of his craving. Dende damn the play-it was making him admit what he never thought to speak aloud! This should have stayed safely tucked away in the blissful ecstasy of his dreams, not laid bare before the very subject of his desire. He couldn't do this, couldn't continue...not when he knew were the play was fast approaching...
"What kind of woman is't?" Oh, shimatta, there was amusement in those coal black eyes, a teasing lilt to the words that fell like perfect crystal snow from his full, sumptuous lips. Dende, he's forcing me to say it...somehow he knows...
"Of your complexion..." The flushed feeling in his face tripled at the confession and he cleared his throat lest that unreliable instrument betray him. The microscopic hairs on his skin bristled, ripping a shiver down his spine as the prince walked forward to stand achingly close to the boy. He fought not to back down, not to pull back...Vegeta's body burned with the same passionate intensity as his beautiful eyes and Goten could feel the natural heat he exuded encompassing his taller frame in such a close proximity. Dende, he couldn't breathe, the air hitching and stalling in his throat as the prince reached out with one elegant hand to brush aside a strand of wild black hair from his temple.
"She is not worth thee then..." Vegeta murmured seductively, those same graceful digits outlining the prominent ridge of his brow, traversing the planes of his face with a skilled and patient touch. "What years, in faith?"
Desire exploded like a vibrant golden flare in the darkness of a summer night, engaging each nerve in his body to respond to the older Saiyan's touch. I don't understand...Dende, Vegeta...how...The only answers in those sable, enigmatic voids were the reflections of lust scarcely tempered. Somehow, some god smiled upon his unearthly position and he found the voice to speak, hidden amongst the flaming need that singed his reason and awakened his blood.
"About your years...my prince..." Kuso, wasn't that supposed to be 'my lord'? His dark head of mussed raven hair jerked upward at the unexpected sensation of something incredibly soft and flexible wrapped around his wrist, pulling him forward. Shadowy, lidded eyes reminiscent of a starless sky welcomed him into their penetrating depths as Goten stepped forward to join the circle of Vegeta's powerful arms.
A quiet, mindless whimper of questioning formed in the back of his throat as the Saiyan prince stood proudly up on tiptoe to lick the younger demi-Saiyan's awaiting lips, hot breath exhaled on his panting mouth.
"That wasn't in the script..."