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A cool breeze brushed over his skin, its gentle caress even cooler as it mingled with the mist from the waterfall that pounded endlessly behind him, coating the back half of his body with a thin sheet of moisture. Piccolo calmly ignored the outward distraction as he did all others, focusing solely on the inner musings of his soul as he silently meditated in the air beside the falls. There was some problem needling him ceaselessly; it lay coiled within his being, submerged very deeply… yet after hours of intense contemplation, he had still not determined what it was.

A low growl of frustration churned out of his throat, and his concentration was once again shattered. His eyes snapped open and his heavy brow was drawn down into a dark, angry scowl. Whatever the damned thing was, not only was it interfering with his meditations, it was interfering with his training. Somehow, it was holding him back, keeping him from attaining the next level of power. Which meant it was something important. A minor disturbance would not affect him so profoundly. Yet he did not know what it was.

It didn't make any sense; everything seemed to be going very well. There hadn't been any major crises since Majin Buu, and everyone he cared about had remained more or less healthy and happy the last couple of years. Gohan had graduated high school and was starting college, Trunks and Goten were still making the most mischief two juvenile Super Saiyans could, and Goku was alive and well and trying his best to make up for all those absent years.

A rueful smile curved his mouth at the thought of the Son family. Son Goku had played one of the most pivotal roles in Piccolo's life. If not for Goku, he might not have even been born. Then again, if not for Goku, he might be ruling this entire world by now. Yeah… an entire dead world. Too many times it had been Goku, alone, who had stood between the Earth and total planetary destruction. And then there was Gohan…

How one tiny boy could change the heart of a demon… yet Son Gohan had done just that. Out there in the desert, he had been a harsh, cruel taskmaster, yet the small Saiyan child had shown him nothing in return but admiration and love. The same could also be said of the boy's father.

Piccolo's thoughts turned once again to the spiky-haired Saiyajin. Goku had never held their violent past together against him, not even once. The tall Namekian grimaced. Of course, he had never held Vegeta's violent past against the Saiyan prince, either, a thing Piccolo had trouble doing himself. Goku's heart was sometimes too forgiving… and yet Piccolo was undeniably grateful for that. It was the battles he'd fought with Goku that he secretly cherished, for they were not only the most memorable, but were also the most exciting and exhilarating.

Hn. Perhaps the most powerful warrior in the universe might be up for a little spar. It had certainly been a while. Maybe that woman of his wouldn't screech so loudly this time, and let the man come out and play.

Piccolo suddenly grinned, baring his sharp, white fangs in almost feral anticipation. Yes… it had definitely been far too long…

~*~*~*~

The golden warrior danced quickly and easily before him, his every move perfected, a grin as feral as his own stitched across his visage. Piccolo panted heavily, his clothing ripped and torn, blood trickling down his cheek, bruises scattered here and there across his body, yet his smile never wavered, nor did his resolve. For Son Goku didn't look much better.

"Hoo! You're getting faster, Piccolo!" he called out, his eyes sparkling brightly with untamed excitement.

The Namek took the compliment with a grain of salt, for the man before him was fighting nowhere near his top power level. Still, it was a compliment, and from a warrior such as Goku, it was not to be taken lightly.

Piccolo's reply was a burst of even greater speed that ended in a calculated series of punches to the man's torso. The retaliation was swift and brutal… and Piccolo relished every single moment of it.

The Super Saiyajin was an opponent like no other. His mind was unique; his thought patterns a constant mystery all too slowly revealed through his quick, innovative actions and reactions. His spirit was a pure, bright beacon of light, matchless, indomitable, and imbued with the blazing force of life. He was a self-appointed keeper and protector of the Earth, a world that a part of Piccolo had watched and guarded for countless centuries. Goku understood that part; he loved the Earth as much as himself.

He knew that they had all wondered why he hadn't gone to New Namek with the others. Gohan had even asked him, once, though his reasons now differed from then. He was different. His rejoining with Kami had greatly changed his perspective about this planet and about life in general. The joining with the warrior Nail had not truly prepared him for all that Kami had been. All that he was now, and more.

Yet the power he had gained from both joinings was still severely lacking when compared to the tremendous forces wielded by the luminous being before him. A fact that the Super Saiyajin was quick to demonstrate again, as a well-placed kick to his midsection sent the Namek plummeting to the ground below.

It took him several moments to regain his breath, the blow having knocked the wind out him. When Piccolo finally managed to sit up, he found Goku kneeling down on one knee before him, peering intently into his face.

"You okay, Piccolo?" he asked, his tone sincerely concerned.

"I'm fine," he grumbled in return, a scowl darkening his features.

"Why don't we call it a day?" he suggested, dropping out of Super Saiyajin. "I'm getting kind of hungry." Typical. When wasn't the man hungry?

"Here." Goku stretched forth a hand in an offer of assistance. Releasing an inaudible sigh, Piccolo took hold of it and let the Saiyan haul him to his feet. "I have something for that gash," he said, indicating the Namek's injured cheek. "Heh, looks like I need it, too." Piccolo followed Goku's gaze to a thin, bleeding wound he had gouged across the man's ribcage. "Come on."

Piccolo trailed him to the well-shaded spot beside the river where they had laid their belongings before the spar. Goku pulled off the ragged remains of his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off his face and neck, then he casually tossed the now useless garment aside. As Goku knelt down on the bank of the river to splash himself with water, the realization dawned on the tall Namekian that his eyes had been glued intensively upon the Saiyan's fair skin for the past few minutes, watching in almost rapt fascination at the way the powerful muscles beneath rippled with his every movement.

Piccolo blinked in surprise, never having found such a thing as another person's body so singularly magnetizing. Yet he could not deny that he was magnetized by the sight of the Saiyan's glistening back and shoulders as clear droplets of water trickled down to his belted waist. How had he not perceived before that Son Goku was… beautiful? Perhaps he had to some degree, but this keen level of awareness was something completely new. He had never felt such a strangely curious urge to touch someone before—and he was definitely feeling the urge to glide his palm down that gorgeous sinewy back…

"Piccolo?"

His gaze immediately shifted at the soft sound of Goku's voice, and beheld the man's dark eyes regarding him with puzzled inquiry. His mouth opened a moment, but then closed again, for he did not quite know how to reply. He did not understand what was happening to him, and though his face wore a scowl of vexation, it was clearly intermingled with an increasing bewilderment.

"What is it, Piccolo?" he asked, rising to his feet and closing the distance between them. The Namek found himself shaking his head as he came to halt before him.

"I… I'm not sure," he said, his inflection full of hesitancy. It was difficult to lie when peering down into those large, round eyes that shone openly, incandescently, with heartfelt honesty. "I… I… Son," he finished, helplessly, and then stared in mute fascination as his hand rose of its own accord to brush against the pale cheek of that captivating visage. So soft! So smooth…

The large, round eyes blinked in surprise as Piccolo's wayward hand gently cupped his face. "Son, I… I don't know what's wrong with me," he whispered, his own eyes pleading for some kind of explanation. "I've been… off lately. I haven't been able to figure out why, and now… this. I don't understand this."

The smaller man studied his features carefully for a few thoughtful moments. "Ever since I've known you, Piccolo," he began quietly, "you've been alone. You've rarely sought companionship of any kind. You and I spar every now and then, and you drop by to see how Gohan is doing, but you don't have anyone you just like being with, to hold and to love. You don't have anyone to share your life with."

"I am a Namek," he said with a frown. "We don't need physical relationships with others to reproduce."

"I wasn't talking about having kids, Piccolo," Goku replied with a small smile and a shake of his head. "I was talking about companionship. Of sharing your soul with another. And everyone needs that."

Sharing your soul…

Was that what he lacked? Was that what he needed? Piccolo was not certain… and yet… he longed to bask in the soul of this man. He yearned to touch more of his soft, smooth skin and partake fully of his warm, radiant spirit.

"Son…" His voice was low and husky with the strange, alien desire.

Goku searched his face again, his wide, gentle eyes keen and penetrating, piercing his soul, beholding his need. Then his eyes softened as warmth and understanding sparked deep within their shining black depths, and a smile bloomed upon his features with a mild intensity that made his entire face glow beneath the Namek's resting palm. The Saiyan moved, ever-so slightly, rising up on his toes, tilting his chin, until his lips came to a tender rest upon Piccolo's own.

The contact was electrifying, a charged jolt sizzling down his spine, making every nerve in his body twitch. A soft gasp escaped his throat, and Goku responded by increasing the pressure and moving his lips in a wondrously excruciating caress. An uncontrollable trembling began vibrating through his being as Piccolo felt the man's hand slide across his skin to circle the back of his neck, tugging him closer. With hardly a thought, Piccolo followed the motion, lowering his head to grant the exquisite creature better access to his mouth. Then he shivered again as the Saiyan's warm, wet tongue brushed over his lips, asking, tickling, promising, and Piccolo instantly melted, allowing him entrance.

Oh… so… sweet…

There was no other thought left in his mind as Goku's tongue slowly delved inside his mouth; Piccolo had never felt anything so marvelous, so utterly delicious. The slick, stroking sensation was nearly overwhelming, and the desire to experience more, to drown himself in the soul and flesh that was Son Goku…

A low, hungry growl rumbled deep in his chest, and then his arm wrapped around the smaller man, pulling his bare torso close against his body. The hand still cupping the man's cheek suddenly slid into his hair, his sharp claws threading through the unruly locks of coarse sable, his tongue taking command of the scrumptious mouth pressed firmly to his own.

His abrupt takeover startled the Saiyajin within his tight embrace, but only for a moment; and then Goku's arm stole around his waist, matching his strength and fervor as Piccolo passionately, scrupulously, explored his mouth. The sound of a soft moan reached his ears, and the Namek immediately broke the kiss to search the face cradled within his palm. What he saw there astounded him.

Goku's cheeks were flushed with color, his dark eyes half-lidded and glazed with pleasure. "Don't stop," he murmured, somewhat out of breath. "Kami, don't stop."

"I'm not Kami anymore," Piccolo replied with a dry humor, and then his mouth descended once again in swift compliance with the near breathless request.

Though he was completely inexperienced in the numerous mating habits that existed on this planet, Piccolo knew what every single one of them was. His knowledge was extensive, yet he had never felt the need to implement anything he had ascertained over the years. Truth be told, he had not understood what all the fuss was about, why everyone was always running around in circles trying to find the perfect mate. Until this moment. Holding this man, getting a strong taste of all that was yet to come, it was easy to see how some could labor their whole lives in search of a moment such as this.

His palm glided over the smooth, damp flesh of Goku's back, savoring the feel of him, longing to let his hand glide over every glorious inch of him. Then the thought whirled through his mind, Why not? His hands responded instantly; one easing out of his luxurious hair to go wandering down the uncharted territory of his neck and shoulders, tracing along the ridge of his collarbone, lingering over the lines of thick, corded muscle, and the other continuing its journey across his back, fingers circling leisurely down his spine.

The Saiyan sent another moan vibrating into his mouth for his efforts, as Piccolo continued to plunder the warm, ambrosial hollow with his tongue, and then Goku gasped, sharply, breaking contact as his head was thrown back and his body arched wildly into his own. The Namek blinked in surprise, and then slowly, experimentally, swirled his fingers again in the exact same location as before. The man cried out in sheer ecstasy, his back arching once more, his hips rocking wantonly against him. A grin of smug satisfaction curled his lip. Of course… the tail… Piccolo made the lovely creature writhe within his arms one more time before lowering his mouth to the fair skin of the throat that was so graciously bared for him.

Then his tongue was sliding across the smooth, succulent delicacy, tasting the salt of his skin, reveling in the texture of his body. His own skin was not nearly as soft as this pale, pink perfection. And then his delightful indulgence was interrupted as the Saiyan abruptly growled, a low, husky growl, and Piccolo suddenly found himself face to face with a pair of gleaming eyes so full of lust that it made his heart skip a beat. Goku was gazing at him as a lion would a snared gazelle… except he was no gazelle.

The Namek returned the predatory look with one equally as savage. And then they were both on the ground, tumbling through the soft grass, their lips locked securely on one another, their hands tugging fiercely, frenziedly, at each other's clothing. His already battle-tattered shirt was ripped from his torso, and his pants went the same way as Goku's—Piccolo had no idea where. And then there was only flesh, green on alabaster, alabaster on green.

Piccolo's clawed hands eagerly caressed the wild Saiyajin, attempting to master him, to tame him, with every passionate stroke. His fingers studied and learned the many peaks and crevices of the creature's resplendent form, memorizing all the secret, sensitive places that made him gasp aloud in pleasure. It was rather difficult to concentrate, however, for Son Goku's roaming hands were doing similarly marvelous things to him.

Like when the man ran his fingers along the length of his swelling arousal—a state the Namek had never truly experienced to this extent before—the sensation was so gloriously good that Piccolo thought he might just die from it. Until the next aching caress surpassed it.

No one had ever touched him like this before; no one had ever given him pleasure as this beautiful, feral creature was now giving him. The man's wondrous spirit was a wellspring of zeal and enthusiasm, splashing over him with liquid fire, searing across his skin with flaming tendrils of pure delight. Yet Piccolo was voraciously greedy… he wanted more.

His sharp nails raked lightly over Goku's abdomen, a gesture he had already discovered would make the man moan uncontrollably, and then trailed them down one burly thigh. The Saiyan shuddered in response, and Piccolo used that distracting moment to press his body deep into the grass. Then he positioned himself between those muscular thighs and lowered his mouth to the flesh surrounding his nipple. His tongue licked and twirled, teasing the soft flesh before flicking across the tiny hardened bud itself. Goku squirmed beneath him from the gentle force of his tormenting ministrations, and another groan of approval rumbled through his ears.

Then Piccolo pushed his hips forward, slowly piercing the man's body. A gasp burst from the man's lips, this time slightly jaded with pain. The Namek paused, abruptly uncertain; he did not want to hurt the small, dynamic creature. Then eyes of shimmering onyx were gazing up at him, swallowing him whole.

"Don't stop," he whispered, breathlessly, his tone softly beseeching. "Please, don't stop."

Piccolo nodded, and then tenderly captured his mouth, muffling his grunt of pain as he eased himself into the splendid warmth of his body. Kuuuuuussoooooo!! Nothing had ever prepared him for this! The Namek's eyes rolled shut as a wave of pleasure washed over him, threatening to drown him in a sea of utter, astonishing bliss. The heat of Goku's body was nearly too much for him, so marvelous was the sensation flooding through his being. And then he felt the man's powerful calves twine about his waist, drawing him closer, his thighs gripping him tightly. The Saiyan wanted more, as well, and the Namek was eager to oblige.

Slowly, nebulously, he began to move within the Saiyajin, stroking the inner walls of his flesh, feeding his own rapacious need. His eyes fluttered open to peer down into the man's visage, instantly meeting his dark, fevered gaze. He could not look away. Those deep, benevolent eyes held him transfixed, as he glided in and out of his luscious heat, his pleasure mounting with every delicious thrust.

Son…

Piccolo…

It startled him for a moment, when the man returned his mental sending. Though they both possessed the ability, it was not something they had utilized often.

You are magnificent.

He watched as the Saiyan's eyes grew wide at the ardent and unexpected veneration, and then Goku smiled, that warm, radiant smile.

So are you, Piccolo, he replied soundlessly, his eyes glistening brightly with unfeigned affection.

The Namek's gratified response to that was a quickening of pace that immediately sent a shudder of pleasure quaking through the man beneath him. Goku's eyes fell closed as he once again began to moan his enjoyment to the world around them. A few cherishing minutes later, Piccolo's deep baritone voice rose to echo him as the sublime friction of their bodies increased even more, scorching through his soul, commandeering his mind, until all that remained was the pure, transcending sensation of absolute ecstasy. And even then the intensity miraculously kept building, escalating, striving toward something… something…

A cry exploded from his throat, so loud, so vehement, that it instantly burned it raw, as a tsunami of almost incomprehensible pleasure crashed over his senses, sending his whole being lurching, reeling, in a whirlwind seizure of glorious rapture. Some distant part of his mind absently noted that Goku was jerking just as violently in his own throes of rabid passion. And then the euphoria began to fade, and the Namek let his body melt against the warm body beneath him.

They lay like that for several long minutes, panting furiously, as Piccolo slowly regained his wits, silently luxuriating in the feel of the man's chest rising and falling in rhythm. It occurred to him that he should probably take his weight off the man, but the thought of releasing him just now was profoundly disturbing to the Namek. That was when he realized that he never wanted to let him go…

Yet Piccolo knew that Son Goku did not belong to him… and he didn't truly belong to Chichi either. He was a wild, carefree creature the woman kept trying to domesticate, but she never seemed to manage that rather impossible feat. The Namek doubted that he would succeed in such a futile endeavor, either, though he would never even think to try and truly tame him. He rather fancied wild things.

"I suppose you have to go," he murmured softly, his arms inadvertently tightening around him.

"Yeah," the Saiyan replied, his inflection sweetly tinged with melancholy. "Chichi will get mad if I'm late for dinner."

"What will you tell her?"

"About what?" Goku returned innocently.

Piccolo smiled. There was no one else like him in the universe. "Never mind," he replied, affectionately pressing his lips to his neck. "Thank you, Son."

"You're welcome, Piccolo."