A Fatal Attraction : Roles Reversed
by Hentai Institute     More by this Writer
There comes a certain point when observation turns to action...and obsession...

Written by Angelus.
Graphic Violence

Sleek and deceptively calculating, the fluid arc of booted white connects solidly with the stubbled jaw of his opposition. The instant crunch of bone is easily audible, even from this aerial viewpoint, and the smirk that dances across his pale, finely sculpted features goads my own lips to twitch, though the desired smile is readily quelled before the damage can be recorded by any of the bakas that litter the uncomfortable plastic seats around me.

But I have no time to indulge their awed, adoring eyes, or even to sneer at the enamoring catcalls of encouragement they so annoyingly feel the need to verbally express. Why they bother is beyond me. The boy knows he's good.

Although...the brilliant rush of fiery humility to his smooth cheeks ignites the same torrid flame in my loins. Kai-Ou-Shin damn you for making me feel again, boy.

And damn me for wanting you as feverishly as I do.

The mere sight of you should not be enough to make my frozen heart thump like a Kami-damned kettledrum.

Your scent should not send my reason into convulsions.

And your eyes...they should not call forth the purr that I have conveniently ignored for almost thirty-five years...

But you're not like the others. You cherish the silence as much as I...and with eyes as expressive as those liquid onyx pools you harbour...

Hn. Words just get in the way.

And don't think for a moment you have me fooled, boy. I know you've seen the lust, the powerful need to possess and caress the supple silk of sheathed muscle that adores the majesty of your Saiyan frame...

You can't hide the blush, boy.

Or the excitement that zaps through your sensual form like a livewire. Don't you dare deny it, brat. You enjoy fighting as much as I revel in the graceful art of your every satisfying movement.

Like the flawless execution of your knee against the soft middle of your unfortunate target.

Morons--each and every competitor that challenges you should be sent for idle amusement to the demons of hell. Nothing can compete with the insatiable Saiyan addiction for pain and bittersweet victory.

Except this infuriating infatuation that I have caught like a damn human disease.

Love...hn. It's sickening, this weakening ache that smolders like an ember in my chest. Fighting is my forte, battle my bastion--you...you're my ultimate Achilles' heel.

And the words...they're the poison barb that will surely be the cause of my demise.

The words...

I want you, Gohan.

Another deafening explosion of worshipping noise rattles the feeble foundations of the arena. I admit, that was impressive. The keen feint of fist and foot that sends the man shadowing your height and shaming your girth crashing into the only empty sector of seats in the whole damn establishment.

Victorious.

Hn...but you're always so careful.

I want you to know, boy, that when I finally mold that iron under flesh of your body that I will not be so sensitive. I will break you...though it will have nothing to do with fragility. When I get my hands on you, your satin song will exalt my name to the highest tier of heaven...

"Yeah, Gohan-kun! Yatta!" I snort at the woman blessed enough to birth you. Baka onna...of course you did it. There was no moment of doubt that you could easily vanquish the other's puny attempts to quench your ardent Saiyan desire.

To fight...

To taste the rich, fulfilling blood of your enemy on your acute palette...

To crucify yourself on the electrifying sensation of scorching agony that nails you irreversibility to your birthright...

I shift in the unyielding plastic of my confinement. I'm harder than hell and it's a damn good thing the only Saiyan within range of my lust-lit scent is too stupid to know his nose from his ass. How the intelligent, elegant, artistic perfection wrought in the brazen, yet bashful blue toned black of your enrapturing eyes began in the blank and vacant absurdity of your father can only be attributed to some god's twisted sense of humour. You...

I hiss as the classic red highlight of your timid tenacity shines forth again and I curse you beneath my breath. You're such a fucking contradiction! More Saiyan than my own son, yet the slightest acknowledgement of these remarkable feats of awesome strength has you burning brighter than this planet's piddly ass excuse for a sun. On Vegeta-sei you would have been respected, revered...

And when I battled and conquered that unerring passion, when I announced to my people that I had chosen my mate...in you...

You would have been worshipped.

Like fingernails down my back, I shiver as your name is hailed over the crackling intercom, the man who dares to speak the honour of your esteem enthusiastic beyond comprehension. You've stunned them again, boy, and all you can do is bow your head and blush. You who are draped in the crimson cloak of your opponent's blood, who licks it from your lips in an instinctual action so base, so primal...

Fuck you, Gohan. I will have you.

The next hour tries my honed and harried dignity. That bitch that bore my brat insists on incessant banter with the whore to my left. It's like a fucking dog whistle. And the bakayaro that somehow managed to find his dick just long enough to miraculously conceive you and your brother is actually attempting to engage me in conversation. One would think my continued silence would dissuade him in his hopeless pursuit. But I suppose the rules are different for those that implore the use of their minds.

Like you, you ingenious, graceful...

I can't stifle the purr as I picture your flawless form...the clenching of my fingers as I desire the supple steel of your sculpted thighs parting beneath my persuading palm, your ass--

"You alright there, Vegeta?" I start as an unwanted touch disrupts the crystalline purity of your image, rippling the mirror into distorted fragments of fading colour. My lip curls with disdain as I turn with deadly intent on the treasonous source.

"Of course I'm alright, baka." He blinks, and I can almost hear the accompanying sound, like one of those stupid cartoons the pansy watches. He doesn't get it. But I am not in the mood to entertain his utter contrast to you. "Not that it is of any concern to you." I snub him completely, lacing my arms more securely over the indigo of my sleeves, chin raising in a dismissive gesture as my eyes absently follow the inferior moves of two clashing human adversaries in the tournament ring.

I hear him cough self-consciously and it leads into an annoyingly tolerant bout of laughter. I hate it when he does that. My teeth grind on the harsh Saiyan syllables of his name, my nerves snapping and straining to remain in control. How dare you indulge me, you cocksucking--

Ah, but then the screaming zealot calls you onto the field again, and like a Messiah, they fall at your feet in adoration. And he hardly deserves the right to say my name.

You've cleaned; the scarlet splash of Saiyan satisfaction has been washed from your face. I'm somewhat disappointed. You should wear your victory with pride, boy...

On Vegeta-sei I would have adorned you in white...and saw that seeming innocence painted in thickening hues of ruby and red...

I should not have worried--the first punch lands solidly and his bright blood christens your pale pallor again. That wicked smirk I've only seen on your father in his fleeting moments of questionable sanity flashing sapphire through your placid onyx eyes as adrenaline infuses your body with its addictive qualities. I've noticed you have yet call upon your birthright, the blonde and blue that Morpheus has seen fit to taunt me with absent from the entrancing collage of motion. It's probably better this way. I'm so fucking hard just watching you I may cum in my pants should you decide to quit pulling punches on this imbecile. Ah, Kami knows how I love to watch you play with them...

I huff, a rapid flick of my tongue against drying lips my only movement. It's fascinating; dodge, duck, feint...

Crack. Had you used your god-given strength that man would be dead. Again, you bow to human reason. A smile tugs on the corner of my mouth, eyes swallowing your solitary dance. Lethal, a rapier of repressed aggression, your polished skill slices through the other's feeble human defenses. Watching you is like reliving the dangerous beauty of my demolished brethren. You are the epitome of all that we strove to maintain; meticulous, cunning, yet fully aware of my power as your prince. Your recognition will earn you a place at my side, Mirai Ouji.

I merely wait to make my move, place you in check...

They're proving their idiocy again, boy. I hope you appreciate the sacrifices I made to come here today. If I have to listen to that squawking harpy yell your name in my ear one more time...

I'll make certain you have no more siblings.

Mmmm...you're panting with your exertion, the rise and fall of your muscled chest captivating my attention as you are declared the uncontested champion. Growling in my anticipation, I almost succumb to the impulsive urge to join in their zest. And I know if I still had my tail, it would give my agitation an obvious outlet.

No worry there, either. I'll have that back as well...once I claim my trophy.

I stand, hands loosening to my sides. Through a veil of disregard, I note the stares of those around me, the carelessly tossed inquisition made by the woman and the clueless recitation of my name by the baka beside me. They are nothing more than a bug bite of irritation. You...

You are my gravity.

I think your father moves to follow as I walk away without explanation, but he takes no more than three, perhaps four steps when I fail to acknowledge his endeavor. Confident smile slipping slickly into place, I stride past rows of gawking onlookers that chant your name like a mantra. Perfection incarnate, a modern avatar of sensuality and suavity.

Mine.

I take each step deliberately, my descent punctuated by the sharp clip of booted footfalls on worn cement. My eyes, narrowed, have targeted your waving figure, never hesitant as each motion brings me ever closer to the railing that overlooks the arena where you reside. My cock hardens further as my solitary form captures your attention and the hand you've raised falters in its acceptance of applause. If I had a tail, I would have taunted you with its serpentine seduction. As it lies, I know you appreciate the taut stretch of unforgiving fabric across my seasoned physique, the slight sway of cocky arrogance in my hips, the downward tilt of self-assurance in my gaze.

Those lovely patches of exquisite black stare unblinking like swatches of night sky and I long to see the dawn in your eyes, the blue that comes with your Saiyan proclamation. Smirking, I know I have you; your delicious mouth is half-open in disbelief, fingers curled uncertainty. Holding your gaze is a testament to my own resolve. I'm half tempted to fuck everything and fuck you.

Right now.

But I'm not a baka like your father. You have just enough of your mother in you to take offense to that. And I have control--I am a prince, after all. Every lesson I've ever learned has pertained to my ability to murder that which is involuntary and impulsive.

Thus I walk, and thus I clasp my hands around the railing, refusing to release those infatuating obsidian shards. I stop then, only for a moment, ignoring the silence that has overcome the crowd, the whispers that only rumor to know anything about the mysterious figure that seems to have mesmerized their bashful hero.

Whatever.

I vault over the metal in one fluid arc, landing in a crouch from the ten-foot descent and chuckling inwardly at the gasps that echo my illegal action. Let them talk. Like I give a shit anyway. All that matters to me is that sexy Saiyan--you, Gohan, that stands there with your loose jaw and widening eyes, your blood-stained and tattered attire, a few of those alluring sable strands sticky with your scarlet conquest.

You. Always you.

The announcer that has been the bane of my existence is cordially discarded as he boldly intercepts me, batted aside like an annoying insect and becoming intimate with the ground twenty feet from where we stand. My eyes never flicker, and yours...

Spellbound.

Again, human reason...you shake your head, onyx eyes fluttering downward as the blush creeps its familiar path to blossom in your cheeks. Fucking sexy...

"Vegeta-san?" You murmur, words almost lost to the sudden increase as everyone collectively realizes the defection of my presence. Hn. They cannot stop me. I'm about to get what I came for...

"Boy." I cut off your next, predictable question with my bark, and you close your mouth with an abrupt snap, swallowing obediently at the confrontation in my tone.

Typical, you have no idea what to do...

"Nani, Vegeta-san?" You're trying so very hard not to notice the state of my dress. Hell, I know I look good in tight black denim, though my expression deepens with a smirk as you catch the musky scent of my arousal in the light breeze that blows back your savage Saiyan locks. I knew I loved red for a reason. It's because you look so damn good in it.

"Vegeta..." You're trying so fucking hard not to look at the prominent bulge in my pants.

You're failing miserably, boy.

I chuckle, breath coming quickly as the excitement builds, charges the air surrounding us both like the aura I suppress. Not time, not yet...

"Boy." The word is an outright challenge now as I bring my fists level with my waist, left foot sliding outward and easing my body into a natural fighting stance. I lick my lips, voice dripping with obvious eagerness dropping in volume. "Dance with me."

I don't think your mind processes my decree; you do little more than blink and blush as I prepare to engage you. But I know what buttons to push, boy, what makes that devouring ebony bleed blue. What makes your Saiyan blood burn.

Grinning like the maniacal bastard that I am, I bring the fingertips of my left hand to my moistened lips, nipping the tip and tearing the glove with my teeth. Kami...I could fuck you now, boy, with that sapphire glint that flares for my eyes alone. You know why I've come, why I taunt and bait you with words and action at every given turn...why, with you, I am relentless...

I want you.

And what's even better, Gohan, what makes all this dally and dance worth the time I waste in play...

I know you want me in return.

I don't wait for you to catch your breath or secure your standing as I dispose of the remaining material restriction. You've been fighting since the sun rose over the horizon, while I...I've been fighting not to fuck you.

It's my turn.

Golden, the atmosphere sizzles and snaps with my sudden summoning and I lick my lips again at the surprise that saturates those pearly black eyes I relish. Come on, boy...don't take my order lightly.

A flash of toothy white is all I reveal before I attack.

I all but moan at the feeling of your firm flesh beneath my naked fist, the smattering of brilliant scarlet artistic accent that graces my knuckles and permeates my warring senses. The growl in my throat resonates on the silent awe that accompanies my inhuman motion.

Hn. It appears that I've stunned the silly little ningens.

I felled their high and mighty hero with one blow.

But I know and I'm not stupid, not like others that delight in the taste of your name on their lips. I know your true colours, Gohan...

Paint me in red, bathe me in gold.

You're sprawled flat on your back, an image that has aided my hand on multiple occasions, but now it's real, as is your succulent scent in my nose that makes me clench my fist in determination. I will maintain my control.

Men in clinical white hover on the perimeter of my vision, duty calling them to your side to assist you. Fear prohibits that ingrained conditioning from becoming more than a half-step into the ring. Hn. Weak.

My right foot slides behind the left as I raise a coppery shield. I want to lap the trail of your aphrodisiacal essence from my forearm. But I resist the carnal drive, observing silently as you push yourself into a sitting position, the brand of displaced shock still emblazoned on your beautiful face. One hand is brought to that flawless countenance, smearing away the trace evidence of your fleeting, unguarded moment. My pulse thrums an exhilarating melody of anticipation and arousal, the tempo quickened and thickened as your gorgeous sable eyes slowly slip upward to peer brazenly through an even darker veil.

"Hai, Gohan..." The tongue I long to take into my mouth reclaims the blood I spilt and I shiver despite all prior training. You are so fucking arousing to watch, boy...

You stiffen slightly, the sound of your name on my lips unfamiliar, though not, I notice, unwelcome. It appears you're all grown up now, Gohan.

I grin as you gain your footing, not bothering to brush the dirt from your worn garments. My body tenses in preparation. The same desire for unrequited release raps at your will, and I know...within seconds...

Your fists fly as fast as your wit and it takes all my natural agility to dodge, bend, and twist around your attack. Determination has furrowed your brow, the express need to kick my ass honing your talent to a dangerous edge.

But I'm old enough to be your father, and I've been fighting since before you were even conceived. And while you may have luck as a gene, I have skill in my blood.

Your sweat envelops me in its aromatic embrace, infiltrating my senses, intent to weaken my guard. I taste the metal of my own life as your seeking fist connects with my chin, thrusting my head backward, my neck cracking with the sheer force of your speed. Shimatta...

I retaliate, my purpose harnessing will and prowess that blurs all but the sight of your exquisitely tapered figure ducking and weaving, bending and leaning around my assaults. Like an unlucky sailor, I am at the utter mercy of your siren song, the diligent grace of your teenage physique as it dances to my charming affront...

I catch your hand as you attempt to slip through my heated barrage, our dueling forms motionless as we lock gazes, my gloveless fingers wrapped around your own in a symbolic representation of union, joining...

Togetherness. Like the sensation of my stiff cock in your tight ass.

Baring my teeth in a feral exclamation, I wink once, then snap my body to the side, using the leverage I have on your arm to throw you effortlessly over my head and away from me.

Laughter personifies your ascension, fading as you righten yourself with a grimace, heaving with the breath you strive so ardently to make your own. You look down at me as though you have no idea as to my identity.

Iie, Gohan. But these are my true colours.

Black and blue.

The like of which decorate our battling bodies, the shadowy imprint of your foot on my thigh, the red-tinged apparition of my knuckles against your cheek. Feint, punch, kick, duck, twist, attack...

Folly.

Spitting a ruby stream that undoubtedly stains my lips, I lick the remainder, savoring the singular satisfying flavour that comes with first blood. You're good, boy...damn good. The royal blue of my eyes flickers azure with lust. Your own narrow in kind and I can hardly keep my bestial need in check. For I see in them what I thought lay in fragments of disillusionment in the midst of dark space and starlight.

Something distinctly Saiyan.

I knew it. I knew it the moment you proved yourself worthy to live in that first dance we shared...in the habitual way you seem to flick off fate and survive under the most absurd odds...

That primal perfection only brightens as you brace against the sky, onyx eyes that tease my own with their passion closing against the electricity of your design. You never cease to amaze me, Gohan, and now...

Now is no exception.

I am baptized in your primordial purity as you arch your elegant back and voice your golden challenge to the heavens.

Good Kami-sama...

I think, for an instant, I am so enamoured of your transformation that I hardly recognize the playful hint in your eyes or the teasing jerk of your chin as you turn. It's not until you glance inquisitively over your shoulder that I realize our situation.

The ant-like figures below us have swarmed the arena and the faint call of my young obsession's name highlights the chaos I have created.

"Coming?" I chuckle, tongue tasting the iron of my blood as I lick my lips.

"Not yet." Your cheeks flame, but fail to kill the fire in you eyes, a wickedly devilish gleam igniting within their cerulean depths. Fuck me, but I love that colour on you, boy...

Oceans and mountains pass unnoticed beneath us. You're the only thing I see--the deceptive subtly of your sleek curvature as you maneuver, the torn fabric revealing ever more of the skin I long to touch...You never once turn as you fly, and it makes me wonder if you have a destination in mind, if you, like I, have waited for this opportunity...

But I've been patient for far too long, Gohan. I should probably apologize for my haste.

Hn. After I fuck you.

I tackle you from behind--a blatant attempt at an obvious cheap shot. I'm past pretenses; you've all but signed my license to fuck you, the signature in varying shades of powder blue and purple that adorn your frame. You feel my ki skyrocket from behind before I manage contact and we tumble from the sky, chest to chest, arms locked in opposite hands. Veritably panting in the close proximity, I breathe deep of your masculine scent, purr sharpening to a growling snarl of unstated sexual urge that has my cock harder than a fucking diamond against your thigh.

But I'm not exactly concerned with you knowing. I mean, your situation is hardly any better, boy. And like I've said, you've grown.

It must be this knowledge in my eyes that causes you to attack in furious force, breaking my hold on you. A sharp knee in the gut has me doubled over and cursing, but it's the corresponding interlace of your fisted fingers slamming down on the back of my neck that has me tasting dirt.

Snarling, sputtering out the gritty remnants of my fall, I growl as I hear the 'tap' of you land behind me, pivoting in my crouch to stand.

Which I do. Right into your chest.

I'd like to kill the god who thought tall Saiyans were a good idea.

And somehow the smart-ass remark gets left in the dust with my dignity as your fingertips caress a velvet path up the hard angle of my jaw, the spider silk of your thumb brushing so slightly over the split in my lower lip, courtesy, you and your inhuman fist.

I think...for the first time in my life...

I'm speechless...

Hn, but that's not a problem, is it boy? Not when your lavish mouth is pressed so tightly to mine, the sensuous slickness of your invading tongue as you assert your mirroring desire in the persuading graze of your teeth on my lip...

If I were at all a religious man, I'd swear angels kiss like this.

Too bad god can kiss my ass, ne?

"Vegeta-san..." Your quiet prompt entices my eyes to open, and I simply lose myself in the enchanting azure of your gently mocking gaze. "Iie, Vegeta-san..." Growling, I fist the tattered remains of your gi front, dragging you down to a respectful level.

"What the hell are you talking about, boy?" So help me, Kami-sama...I will have you...

"But Vegeta-san..." Warmth encircles my hands and I hate to admit that I'm confused. What the hell? I thought there was Saiyan in you yet... Your tongue snakes out to clean the corner of my mouth, lips straying to nip the tender sensitivity of my ear lobe.

I hiss, fingers tightening in warning. Dammit, Gohan...

"The music's not over yet, Vegeta-san." Like needle points your teeth sink into the vulnerable flesh of my ear and I groan at the welcome sensation even as I curse myself for pure and utter strategic stupidity.

I think it's that moment that everything becomes magically clear to me.

Hot breath on my ear has me shuddering again, but I'm pretty damn sure that it's your next words that reveal my grand epiphany.

"Checkmate, Vegeta-san."

I am so fucked.

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