Welcome to Boxer & Rice

The little one backs away, his eyes wary and his stance tense. He thinks I will do to him what I did to my cradle-mate, the rough fight and the taking, the reluctant surrender. But I have no need to fight for dominance in my relationship with the lithe beauty – he will submit to me, whether he wishes to or not, while Kakkarrot will always fight. We two have been engaged in a contest of wills since the day we were born and though he gained a victory then, I will not permit it now; it gives us a violent, addictive relationship. But my… our Ouji has been harmed enough for a thousand lifetimes, and it is not in me to hurt him further. Still he retreats, harnessing his fear and turning it to anger; he will fight but I, like Kakkarrot, will make sure that he simply expends his energy on me without harm.

I walk towards my prey, a knowing smirk gracing my face as I watch him crouch. He springs at me, a vicious snarl twisting his handsome features into a caricature of rage. It does not suit him, and I resolve to make him smile more, knowing that my newly won mate agrees with me – our small love will be better protected than if he had grown up amongst the entirety of the honour guard that should be his. His expression does not waver when I catch him, wrapping my arms around his lean body and holding him while he struggles. His golden mane tickles my face, his feet beating an obscure rhythm into my legs as he attempts to escape again and again. His efforts are violent and uncontrolled as he unleashes the full force of his temper in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. Even as he fights he tries to minimise the contact between us. He loathes being touched, how much worse must it be for him to be held?

The question is answered almost before I form it, as blind panic sets in and he succumbs to that terrible claustrophobia that even the gentlest embrace engenders. He screams, and though rage makes up a part of it, the greater proportion is taken up by fear. I can hear his breath hitching in his lungs as he struggles for an even, unobstructed way to the air; in his eyes I can see that he knows it is his own terror that steals from him the true function of his lungs, but both he and I also know that he can do nothing about it. His hair returns to that deep, rich ebony that is his natural state, and his body falls limp in my arms, his hands unconsciously clutching my shoulders, as he concentrates on simply breathing. I settle myself on the ground, running soothing hands down his sides and massaging his back in an effort to calm the tortuous writhing of his muscles beneath his bronze skin.

Kakkarrot has obviously taken one of those miracle beans that they all seem to carry as a matter of course, and he makes his way towards me, ignoring the shreds of his clothes as he joins me in comforting our Ouji. Whether Vegeta is grateful for our presence or not is hard to say – his breathing has not become any easier in the last few minutes and his attention is thus directed entirely inward as he attempts to fight down the blind panic that has stolen his breath. I hold his heated body close to me, allowing Kakkarrot to take his place at the Ouji’s other side. Cool grass, as high as the Prince’s knee, stirs around us, whispering of summer sun and gentle breezes and slowly the little one calms, slowly he begins to breathe more easily though his hands still tremble and he still shivers minutely against my chest.

Once I judge him calm enough I begin to kiss him, trailing my lips over feather soft skin, and placing light adorations at the corner of his mouth. His eyes widen and he gasps, trembling now for entirely different reasons, though he is no less afraid. He has been the sacrifice our people made to the ice Lord, and he has given up more than any had a right to ask of him, and now he fears what should be the most tender of unions. I do not know how much the changeling hurt him, as I do not know how little he knows of the ways of pleasure as opposed to the ways of pain. I do know that he has partnered only one person willingly in his life, as I also know that his brief childhood ended the instant he was handed over to the tyrant’s care.

With him I will be as gentle as a moth’s wing is fragile, coaxing him to experience bliss, perhaps for the first time in his life. He gasps as I caress him, shifting under my touch, and then gasps again, shock and embarrassment rippling across his regal features. I look and snarl at the reason for his reaction. Fingers that are not mine trail down his body to his waist and threaten to go further, before I grab the hand and growl at Kakkarrot – he may be my mate, but I am alpha here, and it is my right to claim Vegeta first. He smirks at me knowingly, as I kiss his palm and then grip him around the waist, moving him so that I am between him and Vegeta.

Our Prince watches us with wary eyes, uncertain of how to react. I watch as he scans our surroundings, hoping for some means of escape, no doubt. The smile I bestow on him is much gentler than the one received by my spike-haired mate bare moments ago, and it gives him pause. I take full advantage, ravishing his mouth as my hands follow the path Kakkarrot’s have just taken. I slip my fingers beneath his waistband, smoothing my palm down his thighs and pulling the soft, enclosing fabric from his body, all the while teasing him with my tongue and lips. Kakkarrot takes the cloth from my fingers and pulls it fully from the body of our Prince, and before he is aware of what is happening he is fully nude, his clothes tossed into a pile at my side, and my hands are worshipping his body. He is like a sculpted statue, with neither flaw nor mark anywhere on his smooth body, and his muscles are like silk turned steel beneath his glistening skin.

While Kakkarrot watches us, his eyes hungry, I taste my Prince, licking at him gently. He whimpers, and I lift my head to smile appreciatively down at my little captive. He twists in my imprisoning arms, wanting out, wanting to get away, to escape into the wilderness and hide from us, but I refuse to let him go. He is mine, to protect as I was meant to protect; had his father not interfered and ordered my death this would have happened long ago. My anger at my own father cannot be measured – he wished to kill this feral beauty that lounges, albeit reluctantly, in my arms, and for something that occurred when he was but a child, with no knowledge of the events that then took place!

I dismiss these thoughts from my mind as he struggles once more, swooping down to steal the breath from his lungs in a much more pleasant manner than his last experience. As he lies gasping, his face flushed and his eyes bright but dazed, I shift our positions so that I lie alongside and a little over him, still preventing any possibility of flight but also bringing more of me into contact with him. A dull red creeps up his neck as I envelop him, the bare scraps of cloth I wear all that separates us, and his eyes flicker towards Kakkarrot before returning to meet my gaze defiantly. The grin I cannot suppress tells him all he needs to know about this, all that he should expect of the forthcoming experience. He is still afraid, but that is slowly being buried beneath waves of pleasure and embarrassment; so shy my sweet Prince, so very timid. You should display your beauty more often, my pretty.

But it is his reserved demeanour and his very inexperience, the damage that still festers deep within him, that makes it impossible for me to seduce him in the rough way that I did Kakkarrot. It attracts me like a bee to honey, and I savour its sweetness, cherishing the incongruous innocence that dances a counterpoint to his tired cynicism. I go slow, watching him, relishing his restrained whimpers and half-swallowed mews. His skin tastes of salt and spice, and I suckle at his nipples like a babe. Elegant hands fist in my hair, and a throaty moan greets my efforts, his chest vibrating briefly against my devouring mouth; I do not think anyone has ever taken the time to seduce him, to draw out these pleasured cries, for he is almost as startled as he is aroused.

Physically he is less a virgin than Kakkarrot, who had never known a man’s touch, but mentally and emotionally this is his first time and for that I will treat him as an innocent. My open, happy mate expects to give and receive pleasure, and he had very little fear when I first took him to my bed; he has even less now, but I think our beautiful Prince will always be tentative, always tremulous when it comes to such physical pleasure. He dares not move even now, though his body strains for release, and he cannot help some writhing on his part. I hold him steady as I remove my shirt and bring his little hand up to touch my chest. It is an attempt to encourage him to touch me, and it works – after a fashion.

Like a feather, his fingers trace out the muscles of my chest, and for a brief second his face loses its fear and becomes childlike in its fascination, desire expressed openly on his chiselled features. Then his hand drops and he blushes once again, turning his face to the side to watch the grass with rapt attention. His embarrassment is all the distraction I need to tear off what remains of my clothes, the shreds left over from the battle for dominance not difficult to remove. Kakkarrot wanted to be alpha of our little trio, but I would not allow it, and our clothes paid the price of the display we created for our Prince. His pride kept him from running while he watched us, but as he feels my skin slide against his I can see that, were he given the opportunity now, nothing would keep him from fleeing.

To prevent that I ravage him, playing his body and tautening his muscles with possessive touches. He is beautiful, and strong and bold, but most of all, he is mine. I suckle at his nipples almost roughly, making him sob in both pleasure and fear; instantly my touch gentles. I do not want him to feel fear. I am tender and soft, making my way down his body, scraping my teeth over his skin in a light caress, soothing the slight sting with my lips and tongue. I breathe in his scent, expelling the air trapped in my lungs over his erection, listening to his barely stifled whine.

Kakkarrot moves to our Prince’s face, stroking his cheek and kissing his closed eyelids in an attempt to reassure him. I allow him to do so, knowing that Vegeta must learn to accept the touch of both of us, for neither my happy mate nor I are willing to let him avoid us any longer. He gasps beneath us as I place my lips on the inside of his thigh, sucking gently before nuzzling upward. I deliberately tease; I want to drive all of his vaunted control out of him, I want to bury the fear that stutters through his body beneath so much pleasure that it will never rise again. Before we two are done he will be writhing beneath us, but I will not make him beg. He is proud and to force pleas from his throat, to make him abase himself… I would never strip him of his dignity in such a way. He has had little left of his legacy bar an empty title and his fierce and stubborn will; I will not steal it, nor will I permit any other to rob him of it.

Soft whimpers now escape his tender lips and his body arches against mine, as dazed, eldritch eyes view me without seeing. The soft shell of his ear becomes the meal of choice for Kakkarrot as Vegeta presses his left cheek to the ground in an effort to ground himself under our dual attentions. His normally adamantine eyes flicker open once again, as I graze my teeth over his erection, and he chokes back a cry. I hold his hips down as he convulses against me, my coarse hands capable of spanning his tiny waist with ease.

I smooth my thick fingers against his skin as he floats down from his climax slowly, marvelling at the miracle that one so small should be so strong; how could this fragile treasure have survived so much, with so little support? From now and for the rest of our considerable life spans we will shield him from harm, Kakkarrot and I. My possessiveness amuses me and I smile, pressing my lips against his abdomen in apology for resting my heavy head there for so long. His breathing has slowed somewhat now, and it is time for the next step. Beautiful, radiant Vegeta, I swear that I will not hurt you.

It is a pity that we do not yet share a mate-bond, for though Kakkarrot hears me well enough, our bonny Prince does not, and is not reassured by either my movements or my expression. I know I look predatory, can see through the eyes of my spike-haired mate that possessive, hungry gleam in my own orbs, but I cannot gentle my visage, cannot cloud my eyes with sweet sugar or veil them in lies. I nudge his graceful legs apart and press myself between them, taking care not to bruise his skin as he attempts to prevent my access and I watch his pupils widen with terror. Their focus sharpens and they clear as the fear takes the place of dazed pleasure.

While I settle between his thighs, rubbing my own erection lightly across his flesh, his eyes never leave mine. I notice that his hands have fisted, his fingers scratching the earth and pulling the sharp strands of grass up. His palms bleed where his nails have punctured his skin, but he gives no sign of pain; it is altogether probable that he is not aware of the damage he has done to himself, and it hurts me to see him so afraid. A whisper of thought between us, and then both Kakkarrot and I lift a hand each, pressing the damaged palm to our lips, kissing at the hurts, licking at the blood with our tongues. His breath hitches in his lungs as he watches us; this was not something he expected.

I smile briefly at his tentative surprise, moving my attentions from his palm to his mouth, and then lower to graze his neck. Kakkarrot distracts him in a kiss as I latch on to the junction between his neck and his shoulder, marking him as mine. His cry is muffled by my spike-haired mate’s lips, and he struggles against us attempting to escape or deny what is coming. But there is nowhere he can run from this, as my mind melds with his, throwing out fine threads and capturing him behind velvet bars. He falls limp, weeping into Kakkarrot’s shoulder as we two explore the inner depths of his psyche. Helpless to prevent it, he submits, though he flinches from us and hides with an adeptness that hints that others have also ventured into this haven for his soul, and far less gently than we.

I am not discouraged by his secretiveness, and I forge bonds between us that nothing, not death, not Gods, not feeble mentats, shall ever break, linking this web with the one I share with my other mate. So now we are a triad, though still he haunts the shadows of his own mind rather than join us fully; how different from Kakkarrot, who greeted me openly and tussled for dominance in this mental arena as he does in the physical. I do not attempt to coax our little love out, rather capturing him as he attempts to slope away, holding him indulgently as he struggles. Finally he quiets, lying meekly curled up in my arms, and I see that this mental avatar is barely more than a child, with wide, vulnerable eyes.

As with a child, I comfort him, murmuring soothing nothings as we three explore what should have been a virgin mind. But here and there I see marks of a forced invasion, of pain inflicted and damage made upon him when he was considerably younger, perhaps as young as his mental projection of himself. There are areas of his mind that he does not wish us to enter, places he tries to keep us from, but I am adamant that we see all there is to see, and so we continue despite his tremulous protests. In so doing we witness horrors that even I had not suspected, seeing what a life he lived with Frieza as his Lord.

We withdraw from his memories and soothe him as best we can within the shelter of our own minds, while I hold his trembling form. He is so distraught at the remembrance of his past that he does not notice my finger invading his body, preparing him and slickening his entrance with oil. I place soft, butter-light kisses all over his face, nibbling on the lobes of his ears and nuzzling his cheek in an effort to comfort him. And then, when he calms somewhat, I enter him, sliding in slowly but firmly. He tightens instinctively, but it is already too late. I pause, ignoring my own need to stoke my Prince’s, stealing his attention from the uncomfortable fullness to focus on the renewed fire of his own loins.

Once his heat matches mine, I shift inside him, brushing against his prostate. He thrusts his hips instinctively against me, his cheeks flushing crazily and his delicate hands grip my shoulders. I shift again, and slowly set up a pace, going no faster than he can take, no harder than he can manage. He mews beneath me, and I hear a thought flash through his mind before it drowns in the sensations he is experiencing. …I’ve never felt this before… what… what is happening to me…? My sweet one has never felt pleasure when lying with a man before, and it is now I who sob, though only once. Soft lips trail over my cheeks, and I look up to see Kakkarrot’s gentle eyes regarding me almost sorrowfully. He too heard Vegeta’s confusion.

I am distracted from my sadness by lithe, strong legs clamping themselves around my waist and a strangled cry of pleasure. Internal muscles contract around me, and I follow my smallest mate into the white bliss, collapsing on top of him briefly before moving out and away. Kakkarrot claims his other side, snuggling the tiny, exhausted form between us and sheltering him from the cool breeze. The sun is still high in the sky, it is not yet noon and the air is still pleasantly warm rather than hot. The birds and small beasts still go about their business, but for us it is a time to savour, for we have successfully courted and claimed the highest ranking member of our sorely depleted race, and life is good.