Entrapment
by Xero Sky     More by this Writer
The claim has been made, but what does it mean? Vejiita takes advantage of the things he knows about being saiyajin that his rival does not, and finally wins his struggle with Goku.

Yet there is a price to be paid for such victories... A price Vejiita was not expecting to have to pay...

Art Source :

https://www.pixiv.net/member.php?id=169805

It was almost dawn. The sickly half-light that preceded the true sunrise had crept into the room, revealing the details of a large bedroom. White walls. A display of exotic weaponry on one wall, the steel luminous in the faint light, the color of blood red tassels and scabbards just beginning to bleed in from black. An armor stand. Doors. A large bed with one pale sheet still on it, the rest of the bedclothes a tangle on the floor. A desk and chair. A dresser near the bed.

Beside the dresser, in the small space between it and a corner of the room, a large man sat on the floor, his arms wrapped around his knees. It was a defensive posture, and one that did not accord well with his superbly muscled body and callused hands, nor with the aura of strength that he unconsciously projected even now. It was hard to sense that strength, though, buried as it was underneath the vulnerability and hurt proclaimed by his nakedness, the way his limbs were wrapped around each other for protection, and the useless hiding place he found some faint comfort in. The enclosure of walls and wood left him exposed to the view of the bed, and, when he chose to wake, of the man sleeping in a sprawl of hedonistic satisfaction upon it. The man on the floor never took his eyes off him.

The large man shifted uncomfortably, and it was possible to make out the length of a velvet tail tucked between his legs, the bulk of it coiled protectively over his genitals. The tip twitched as he tried to move without making any noise. He knew that the other man would wake up soon anyway, as soon as the sun rose, but he would do anything for a few more minutes of peace.

There was a mark on his neck: double crescents, the mark of saiyajin teeth. The wound had stopped bleeding, but the skin had been only recently broken. A corona of dark bruising surrounded it already. Otherwise he was quite tender, a little bruised here and there, but mostly unharmed. That mark, he thought with shame, was injury enough.

Rage washed over him. He hadn't understood. Dear God, if only he'd known. He would have stopped it. Would never have responded to that totally unexpected kiss, no matter how sweet and seductive. Would have torn the man's arms off before those fingers had woven into the fur of his newly-regenerated tail, sending waves of pleasure and confusion through him. Would have killed him before the hands on his tail and the mouth on his skin had made being taken seem like the granting of every wish he'd ever had. Would have killed himself before that blistering mouth had ever marked him. He could have done it. He was the strongest. No enemy had ever defeated him.

Until now. It had only taken an instant. Quivering on the brink of ecstasy, he almost hadn't felt the teeth breaching his flesh. The pain had been lost amidst the roar of climax, but he could hardly have missed the consequences. It was like falling through a snow storm. He'd lost all connection with the earth, all concept of direction, and his body, even his mind, had seemed to tingle and burn as if with the impacts of a million tiny shards of ice. He'd frozen, bled...and then there was a rush of warmth and he was whole again. Suddenly it had been as if nothing had happened. Except that he'd been remade, after a fashion. There was a hollowness in his soul now, and his mind had turned traitor, telling him that he needed and craved and yearned for things he'd never wanted before. Things that made him sick with rage. And desire.

He could feel it happening in his mind again now. Every fierce and despairing thought raised a thousand echoes, whispering contradictions, memories of delight, and desires he wished he could believe were not his own. A few hours ago he could have convinced himself. Now he felt his anger being eroded away, stolen by thoughts he couldn't control. A need for warmth and hard, silky touches. A craving to please and give pleasure. A bone-deep yearning to belong, to be enfolded completely within the iron will of the other.

Tears of shame and longing fell silently. He had no defenses left.

Had he felt any of these things before? Had they been hidden deep inside him until that bite had completely unraveled him? Maybe that was why he had always tolerated the man, sparing his life, letting the insults and hostility go without complaint. Maybe that was why he had fallen so easily. The other alternative, that these feelings were all foreign, forced on him by the other's actions, was even worse. How could he have been so weak?

He realized that he wasn't even allowing himself to think the man's name, in fear of waking him. Waking him and losing himself. He knew that at some point he would be lost completely, that rage and shame would be beyond him, as defiance and escape already were. He would embrace his captivity. The thought sickened...and enticed him. He shook his head violently, trying to clear it. He was already incapable of flight, knowing he would be caught and fearing he would be grateful for it. He knew he would never be able to strike the man down, that he would betray himself and fail before harming him. That only left him with these few precious minutes of self, fleeting moments of independent thought. In time he would wonder why he had ever fought against this domination, this usurping of his self. In time, he would think of it as a release, think of it with gratitude.

He hated himself.

But even that wouldn't last.

He heard birds beginning to chatter outside, taking up the business of daily life. On the wall opposite, steel glinted, adorned with the opulent color of blood. He drew in on himself even more, stilling the almost silent sobs, peering at the bed over his knees, as if he could hide within himself. The man on the bed stirred, then stretched luxuriously. Hard muscles slid under unblemished skin, coming into sharp relief as he flexed them. He was not as tall as his audience, but he was powerfully built, everything in perfect proportion. He was finely made, handsome, though his features, when awake, tended a bit towards cruelty. A dark velvet tail lashed slowly across the sheets. He yawned hugely, showing white teeth and sharp fangs, then sat up, brushing hair tousled from sleep and last night's shower back up out of his face. Dark eyes gleamed as he turned to the one in the corner, and he smiled slowly.

"Kakarrot," he said, his whiskey voice low and almost purring.

Goku shuddered.

Vejiita's sharp eyes could hardly have missed it. They also didn't miss the fact that Kakarrot's own eyes flicked nervously up and down Vejiita's body, never quite reaching his face.

"Tell me," the prince said, his tone unchanged, "why you're over there when you know your place is at my side."

Goku shook his head. He could lie, knowing Vejiita wouldn't believe him, or he could admit to the fear and loathing that had wedged him into the corner. He rejected both options, trying to stave off his humiliation.

Vejiita waited a moment, black eyes searching his face. Then he shifted, sitting on the edge of the bed, and held his hand out. "Come."

He could not. He would not. But, oh, God, he needed to. Needed to touch, needed to trust someone, even the one who'd done this to him. Needed help to lay the whirling chaos in his mind to rest.

Vejiita hadn't done him any harm, not after...after...

God, he just needed to rest a little while. Just a little while.

His hand was already drifting up and out to meet the one offered to him. As their fingertips brushed, he tried to jerk back, hissing at the sudden burning pain from the mark on his neck. Strong fingers caught his own, however, and he was pulled forward out of his pathetic sanctuary. Unbalanced, he came down hard on his knees before Vejiita. Everything stopped as he met the eyes of the one who owned him.

The pain faded away. Eyes he could not look away from seemed to penetrate his soul, sifting through his self at their leisure.

*He despises weakness,* Goku thought. *Is that why he did this to me? Didn't he hate me enough before?*

He could read nothing in those eyes.

Vejiita began to let go of his hand, but Goku held on, suddenly unwilling to break contact. Vejiita was the only thing familiar now, even though... He saw a smirk on Vejiita's face, genuine amusement. He let go, as if the warm flesh had scalded him.

In some other life, he would have laughed at Vejiita, pretending he was too stupid to understand. Or he would have dropped all pretense and simply killed him. Now the thought of harming that perfect flesh...excited him, revolted him. He pictured crimson-black saiyajin blood running down satin skin, pooling amongst sculpted muscles. He thought of the taste as he cleaned his prince with a willing mouth. He shoved the images away. Pointless thinking, anyway. He knew he would never raise a hand against his prince.

Something furry and soft touched him, touched the mark on his neck. He inhaled musk, spice, and shivered with the sensations that ran up his spine. Vejiita's tail played over his skin, raising gooseflesh, making his own tail lash back and forth without conscious thought. Velvet teased his chin up higher, and then he felt the length circle his neck, the tip nuzzling him behind his ear. The living noose flexed, tightening until it had a firm hold on him. He grew very still. His eyes closed.

Vejiita watched him, entranced with the image he presented. Kakarrot was perfection, alabaster and midnight silk, raw strength, Saiyajin glory. His scent alone was like a drug, fear and desire combined with masculine musk. He knelt in front of his prince, his back straight, his eyes shut in a fan of black lashes. A flush spread across his fine features as he waited, breathing deeply, the velvet strength of Vejiita's tail around his throat. Waited upon his prince's pleasure, whether he intended to or not. Vejiita purred, scenting arousal not his own. He was entirely aware of the battle within Kakarrot, and he savored it, even as he drank in the erotic display before him.

He reached out and ran his fingers through the thick softness of Kakarrot's hair, then brushed his fingers over the handsome face, watching the color deepen at his touch.

"Where is your hatred, Kakarrot?" he asked lazily. "Where is the rage that transforms you from night to day? Why not strike me down?"

He didn't really expect the man to answer. Thus the soft words surprised him.

"I can't."

He arched a brow. "Can't? Can't hate me, or can't ascend and kill me?"

A sigh, and silence. Then: "Both."

"Ah." He leaned down and licked his mating mark on Kakarrot's neck, enjoying the shudders that ran through the man as his tongue tormented the torn flesh. He caught the faint, salty tang of blood and couldn't keep himself from teasing the wound open just enough to give him a bigger taste of ambrosia. It made his head spin gently, and he grinned bloodily against Kakarrot's skin. *Mine.* Over Kakarrot's shoulder, he saw the man's tail lashing violently back and forth, and he took stock of his condition. Kakarrot was breathing hard and trembling gently, but he was keeping himself mostly still. Except for his traitorous tail, which he hadn't had back long enough to learn to control. Vejiita laughed softly and caught it lightly between his fingers, ruffling it as it slid through. Kakarrot gasped, but his tail didn't stop thrashing, and Vejiita snared it again. This time he kept it, kneading the sensitive flesh. The tail jerked once, hard, trying to escape, and Vejiita growled softly. Resistance ended at once, and the prince smiled, breathing deeply of the scent of silken fur. He continued his attentions to the tail, causing no pain, but relentlessly exploring it with his fingers, knowing that he was sending jolts of unbearable pleasure up Kakarrot's spine.

Kakarrot's submissive posture pleased him. Everything about his prize pleased him at the moment, in fact. He listened to his ragged breathing, watching muscles shift as he continued caressing his tail. That beautiful face had become exquisite with desire and abandon. He took the lobe of one ear into his mouth, suckling it, then tasted his way along Kakarrot's jaw to his mouth. Wet heat welcomed him, as he'd known it would. He let his tongue play, tasting, touching, letting it twine against the other. He sucked at the full bottom lip, then nibbled gently at it before resuming the wet and profane kiss.

Such a beauty. It was hard to remember that he'd begun this out of a need for vengeance, that he'd seen Kakarrot's new tail for the vulnerability it was and taken ruthless advantage of it. The man hadn't had a tail since he was a child, and Vejiita vividly remembered the childlike delight in his eyes when it had grown back. Kakarrot had really had no idea what it meant, how sensitive to touch it was, and what skilled hands could make happen. It had been so easy... Mutual pleasure had led to the moment of mutual vulnerability, and the mating mark, his teeth in Kakarrot's flesh, Kakarrot's blood in his mouth, had triggered everything else. And now his rival was his. Well and truly claimed. There was nothing that could release Kakarrot from his bond. Vejiita understood the things that Kakarrot did not. He knew the conflict in the man's mind, as hormones and body chemistry, a million years of saiyajin evolution, eased him into his new role. Saiyajin mates, dominance and submission. Joined in flesh, mated in blood, together in spirit. Somewhere in his own mind the changes were taking place as well, moving him from hatred to affection, from envy to possession, from cruelty to protectiveness. His victory, his mate. He couldn't remember if he'd known this would happen to him, or if he'd assumed his hatred was too strong. It didn't matter. It was still a victory. No saiyajin prince in history had ever possessed a mate as glorious as this. And there were a few minutes left to him to enjoy this as he had earlier, when he'd made Kakarrot moan and scream his name, made him face his submission and the harsh fact that he would soon embrace it. A few hours ago he had been cruel, using pleasure as a weapon. That was past. Yet he was dominant, and would always be dominant, and there was no time like the present to make sure Kakarrot remembered it.

He broke their kiss, then dropped Kakarrot's tail. There was a flash of dismay in the man's eyes, and then he looked down. Vejiita smirked at him and moved back to sit on the edge of the bed. His own tail remained firmly around Kakarrot's throat. "Suck me."

Black eyes flashed up to meet his. A faint flush of color crept across his cheekbones, creating a display that nearly took Vejiita's breath away. Beautiful. He admired it, but he didn't acknowledge it. He understood perfectly well that it was rage, not bashfulness or desire, that was making him pant and tremble. But lust was there too, lust and a desire to give pleasure to his mate. The conflict froze Kakarrot in place. All except that tail, which slashed wildly through the air.

With deliberate crudeness, hoping to spike the fire in Kakarrot's gut, he leaned forward and said "Suck my cock, boy."

A jaw and strong hands clenched. All color drained away. Eyes glared.

Vejiita leered. And found his own heart racing, with lust, and with...something he didn't recognize. No matter.

He tugged sharply with his tail.

And Kakarrot came to him. Eyes bright with tears met his for a second before disappearing as a dark head was lowered between his legs. Liquid fire engulfed him. For a second, he wanted to back away and see those eyes again, to make sure.... But that mouth was on him. It was so difficult to think of anything else. He could only read Kakarrot through the movement of flesh on flesh.

That mouth was unloving. It moved on him with mechanical efficiency, the tongue pulled well back to avoid tasting him. It was like something he'd paid for, distant and yet arousing. An ugly grin spread across his face as the pleasure mounted. *Like that, Kakarrot? I can use you any time I want.*

Teeth scraped him, and he fisted his hands in soft hair, making Kakarrot take him deeper than he was ready for. There was a soft choking sound. Kakarrot tried to lift away, but Vejiita kept him there, feeling his throat spasm, daring him to bite. Then all movement ceased.

He stared down at his hands, knowing they were causing pain. That seemed wrong somehow. He wasn't supposed to be doing that. This wasn't...... He relaxed his grip. Slowly, tentatively, he wove his fingers deeper, massaging the tender scalp. For a long time that was all he did. Still hard, still engulfed in heat, he didn't move, didn't force movement. He wasn't sure why. He didn't... want...

Kakarrot lifted his head, relinquishing him. Vejiita could feel his harsh breaths roll over his skin. They stayed there, quiet together, with Vejiita's hands still working gentle circles over Kakarrot's scalp, for some time. He found it oddly soothing. Kakarrot's scent was strong and pleasing, and he breathed deeply of it. His Kakarrot. His.

*Mine.*

Vejiita slipped his tail free and began stroking Kakarrot's back, hoping to see the tension fade away. Kakarrot shifted a bit and brought a hesitant hand up to Vejiita's thigh, where it simply rested, as light as a feather. Vejiita placed his own hand on top of it, needing to reassure him, for some reason. It didn't matter why. He was still achingly hard, but that didn't seem to matter either. Whatever his body might want, his *other* need, to humiliate and rule, was all but gone. He wasn't sure what he wanted now. Just sitting there was pleasant. Maybe...

He felt the faintest butterfly kiss on the head of his cock, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He felt a wonderful gliding sensation, and realized that Kakarrot was caressing him with the delicate inside of his lower lip. It was a strange feeling, but delightful, addictive. He made a gentle, encouraging sound and was rewarded with the gentle rasp of a warm tongue. His flesh was tested, tasted, licked, and caressed, each touch tentative and curious. He was being explored, and it was a far more sensual experience this time. He felt a curious thrill that Kakarrot still wanted to do this for him.

A moan as Kakarrot took him in his mouth, his tongue moving in lazy zigzags up and down the hard length. Their fingers twined as Kakarrot gave himself up to his prince, giving pleasure and taking pleasure from it. The pace increased, then eased away again, and Vejiita did nothing but voice his enjoyment and stroke midnight hair. He had given away his control of the moment, and was reaping the rewards of it. He was tormented, taken to the brink and left wanting, only to be brought back again. A hard hand reached up and held his hips to the bed, keeping him still. That mouth abandoned him for a moment, pausing to bite him tenderly on the softest part of each thigh, then took him in again. Long strokes and tender licks made Vejiita's blood burn. Breathing hard, he felt his moment approaching and wrapped his tail around Kakarrot, embracing him as his hips jerked free and he came gloriously into his lover's mouth.

Goku let him go and rested his head on a muscular thigh. He looped his arms around the royal waist and simply stayed there. Vejiita's scent was strong and sharp, and he was content to rest and breathe it in, not thinking. He had been hurt. An abyss of humiliation, rage, and fear had opened up before him, threatening his sanity. But it was gone now. Something had...shifted, and he was comforted now by the purr of the man holding him, by the soft stroking of his hair, and by the hand still interlaced with his own. It was easier now not to think, and that was what he longed for. Unbeknownst to him, his tail snaked up to curl around Vejiita's.

He just wanted to be safe, just for a little while.

At length Vejiita drew him up on the bed and made him lay down. Goku felt a little apprehension, but he was tired, and he watched the lithe form of his prince with lazy appreciation as Vejiita recovered the sheet and blanket from the floor. Vejiita pulled the covers up and tucked them around Goku, trying to make him comfortable. Goku looked at him questioningly as the prince laid down next to him, on top of the covers.

"It's alright. Sleep now. I know you're tired," Vejiita said gently, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. Black eyes peered into his own, trying to make some sense of all this. "Shhh. Everything will be alright."

The suspicion did not entirely leave Kakarrot's face, but the man was exhausted. His mate lay next to him, stroking his cheek, and it was beyond him now not to draw comfort from that. With a sigh, he drifted into sleep.

Vejiita leaned on his elbow and watched him. At some level he understood that the bonding process was almost complete. In a little while they would begin sensing each other's emotions and the wisps of thought. Right now, though, all he wanted to do was soothe his mate to sleep. He didn't understand why he'd done what he had. There must have been some reason, but it escaped him. It shamed him, but he knew well enough to let it go. It was something from...before, and thus out of his reach. And it would never happen again. Ever. Kakarrot was his. Why would he hurt what was his?

He traced the beautiful features, so saiyajin and fine, with his fingers. Such strength, and vulnerable only to himself.

Kakarrot stirred slightly, and Vejiita hushed him gently. "Sleep, Kakarrot. I will protect you. From everything."

He watched as his mate relaxed under his touch. "Including myself," Vejiita whispered, brushing his lips across an unlined brow.

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