Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

It was no great secret. There were no attempts to be coy or covert. But, on the other hand, there were no great attempts to shout it from the rooftops either. (At least not on their parts. The ex-wives seemed to think it was pretty fun to tell whoever happened to walk past. 'Oh, where are our husbands? They're in that closet over there--having sex. Gay sex. The kind they can't have with their wives.') But Vegeta told him that if he ever leaned over and said anything to the effect of 'want to leave this boring place and go have sex?' again that he would castrate him and Goku wasn't brave enough to find out if that was a bluff or not.

So, whenever they got stuck at something boring--like a product unveiling party for Capsule Corp--Goku kept two eyes and two ears out for any available excuse to leave the building (or even just the room.)
Thus far, there had been no such excuse available. In fact, everyone seemed to go out of their way to destroy any potential excuses. Both of his sons had dragged him to meet old ladies that liked to talk a lot about when they were young and how hover cars were only for the new lazy kids and how people didn't appreciate what they had anymore, you know--since the last time the world was almost destroyed. She went on to say she didn't understand all this gobbly-gook about tournaments and fighting and spiritual dragons. All she figured was important was laundry and she was hoping (oh so patiently and delightedly according to herself) for capsule corp to come up with a new laundry machine.

He could kill himself, honestly.

"You know," the second old lady--the one Goten introduced as Madam Wrinkles and Bags, then ran away from giggling--
"Some kids today just have no manners. If I was that child's mama I'd get out my whupping stick and teach him a few things. Wrinkles and Bags indeed! I'd like to see his mama, I bet she's no spring chicken herself, dealing with that devil."

"Uh..." Goku started.

"No, don't try to defend the heathen. You may be young but you seem like such a nice young man."

He was actually in his fifties but he wasn't about to correct her.

"Let me have a look at you. Yes, you're the good sort, I can tell. Not like that little brat. Look at him over there, smiling deviously with that other little heathen."

At this point he was looking over at his son and his granddaughter and starting to feel a little more than uncomfortable being told all his relatives were heathens. Also, the old lady started emitting a smelling that was more than a little off-putting.

"What do parents teach their children today? Nothing I tell you! That child needs some firm discipline. I bet his mother was one of those good-doing sort. All spare the rod and spoil the child..."

Across the room, he could see Chichi getting annoyed. With her demonic hearing abilities, she was probably listening in at this exact moment.
"You know the type." She patted him on the arm then, to reassure him that he was not that disgrace type.

The look on his face should have been enough to clue the lady into the fact that he didn't think this was a good conversation, but she appeared to blind as well as old and smelly and incredibly oblivious.

"Really I ha--"

She interrupted him. "Oh, goodness. Look at that one. He's positively hateful, isn't he?"

Now they were broaching the subject of Vegeta.

"Why would they invite such a sour, unsightly creature?"

"Hey!"

"Don't worry dear. I know you're handsome. Don't worry yourself."
Yeah, that's exactly what he was going to say.

"My these people have no common sense. Letting heathens and haters into their parties." She swiveled her head to take in the room to see if she could find anyone else he knew to insult and her eyes stopped on his oldest child.

Oh. Kami.

"What horrible glasses! They're large enough to be eating his face! He might have been decent to look at...but obviously he was raised with no sense of fashion. Probably another illeducated heathen brat."

"NOW LOOK HERE YOU OLD WOMAN!"

Ah, there was Chichi, who could sneak up on him without him ever being aware. Something to do with the fact that she was part demon or something. Vegeta explained it to him once.

"Who do you think you are talking that way about my sons?! Huh?! They are perfectly well educated, well behaved boys that DID not get spoiled by their MAMA!"
(Said boys were now cowering in whatever shadows they could find, hoping nobody noticed their mother humiliating them by screaming at some very short and wrinkled old hag.)

"You need to learn some manners! And stop talking to him! He's their father and even if he isn't going to stick up for our sons, than I will!"

"Yeah," he put in from the side. "And Vegeta's not ugly either."

Which apparently was the wrong thing to say. Chichi turned on him like a bloody-thursting dragon. All fire coming out of the nostrils and blazing white eyes. Talons, he was sure he could see talons.

"OUT!" she screamed. "In all my years, Son Goku! How dare you defend that man and let this old hag insult our children! OUT!"

"Really?" he said--containing some if not all of his glee. "I can go?"

"NOW."

He wasn't about to wait around for her to decide to change her mind. He ran for it, grabbed Vegeta by the arm (which probably violated the whole 'don't mention our sex life in public' rule) and dragged him out of the building with him.
~~~***
He laughed until it was not physically possible to laugh any longer. Tears on his face and ribs aching. His stomach hurt too. When he finished the last chorus of chuckles he collapsed on the ground next to Kakarot.

"Shut up, Vegeta," Kakarot mumbled.

"Social stupidity runs in your family blood, Kakarot." This was the comfort he offered, because anything else he might have said would have been a lie. "Bardock was banned from the royal court when he was sixteen."

"Gee, thanks for letting me know."

"Hn."

Silence dragged on for another minute, Kakarot's ability to maintain a morose state of mind had expired and when he turned to look at him it wasn't with resentment or vengeance in mind. That little smirk on his face had nothing to do with anything but pure lust.

Vegeta looked back.

Kakarot moved so he was overtop him, leaning down so Vegeta had to lay back, flat against the grass they had been sitting on. Down low so their mouths were almost touching. Just watching him with the wide-eyed innocence some fool would have likened to a child and an ant-farm.
Fingers dragged up his side, pushing the formal jacket he'd been put it out of the way, dragging over the smooth fabric of the white shirt. All the way up to the collar where the buttons were. He felt them pop off. One, two, three. Skin against his skin. Kakarot ducked his head down, below Vegeta's chin, down to the skin of his neck and kissed him there. Ran his tongue down a scar that was barely even visible after all these years, down, down to his collarbone.

He pulled his gloves off, tossed them away. Reached down with bare fingers to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, pulled it out of the path of the mouth that was trailing down his chest to his stomach. The mouth stopped at his belly button, pausing to dip a warm tongue in and then out, making his stomach clench and blood rush down.

"It was all part of my plan," Kakarot said. He moved back up.

"Plan?" Vegeta popped the buttons off Kakarot's shirt.
They dropped on his chest and slid off to be lost in the folds of his open shirt. Once he had Kakarot's chest bare he pushed the white shirt and jacket off his shoulders. The large one obediently moved to get himself partially naked, then came back and kissed him.
At large hand slid down over his stomach, hot palm, and down to his pants, pushed under the waist band--ripping the fabric open--down to slip between his parted thighs and rub against him. He lifted his hips up, spread his legs wider, felt his pants rip more and Kakarot chuckled into the kiss.

Vegeta pulled the button off Kakarot's pants and used his feet to push them down off his hips. Curled his own hand around Kakarot and took vicious, sweet revenge in the stuttered cry the heat and grip he inflicted on the big idiot caused. Kakarot rested his head on his shoulder and floundered for a moment.

He did it every time they touched.

"Enough of this," Kakarot mumbled. Darkly. Voice rich and full of real Saiyan heritage. He went from all earth-bound politeness to the other thing. Fingers curled in the black pants still around Vegeta and pulled them completely away, down to his knees were they weren't in his way, then those hands moved down, under him, cupping his ass and pulling him up against Kakarot. One hand stayed there the other went up, rubbing over his skin tell it reached his neck, slipped around to the back of his head and pulled him up.

Mouth devouring his now. Sitting in Kakarot's lap.

He fought back. It wasn't a passive fight, he scratched his hands down the larger back, tearing at him with his mouth and rocking his hips--grinding against him, making it harder to concentrate and he could tell by the stutter of control as Kakarot's mouth slid off him the exact moment when he won the battle.

He won every time.

But Kakarots hands went around his hips and he looked at him with those fucking eyes. Desperate and needy and adoring. Worshiping him and the movement of his hips against him. Hands curling everywhere on his skin, slipping on the sweat that Kakarot's heat had produced. In his hair and down his back, on his thighs and gripping his ass. Mouth against his neck, sucking and panting and licking.
Whining, begging, dark and delicious little mewls of want for him to drink down and he smirked at it. Loved the feeling of utter power this made. His power.
Stilled on Kakarot's lap and heard the groan. "Ve-ge-ta."
The long syllables of his name like a prayer or a plea for life. He found the pocket of his ruined pants and pushed his hand in, closed his fingers around a mostly emptied tube and pulled it out, pressed it against Kakarot's chest and waited for rationality to regain its place in the big baka's brain.

He laid back down, shamelessly with his legs parted and up on his elbows, watched Kakarot fumble with the tube. Smirked at him.
Smirked until Kakarot got the tube open and crawled back up his body. Sank his fingers into him in time with his tongue in Vegeta's mouth. Energy burst around them, turning the grass to a dead brown.
Vegeta let his mouth slide away from the kiss, Kakarot moved down to his neck again. Pulling hard at the skin, raising blood to leave marks and working his fingers inside of Vegeta. It radiated through him, making his whole body throb with the thrust of those fingers.
Made him impatient for the next part.

"Now," he groaned.

Kakarot mewled his approval for that plan and pulled his fingers out. Gripped his hips with both of his stupidly large hands, held him up and rocked his hips forward, then one hand slipped down and he felt it guiding the idiot to him.

The first push made him grimace. Both hands drawing him down until they were flush--hip to hip. He curled his arms around Kakarot and pulled himself up, sitting in his lap again, pressed the larger saiyan back until he was laying down and leaned forward on him. Hands slipping on the sweat covering the chest under him.

Those sounds--praising him again. He smirked at it, adjusted himself so he felt the hardness rubbing against him the way the fingers had. Groaned and rolled his head back, sat up, dragged his fingers up his own thighs, over his clenched stomach, his chest and neck and rocked his hips. Slow at first, building a rhythm, getting back that sunburst feeling--letting it build like a slow burn.
Kakarot's fingers flexing in time with the moves, patient for the moment. Then impatient, pulling him down faster, gripping his hips to drag them up and Vegeta was panting too hard to care that he was being rushed. Felt the need to move more and faster and couldn't get his stupid body to cooperate. He drove down toward the need, ground himself on it and whimpered, rose and fell impatiently but wanted more still.

He was flat on his back again, mouth on his again, claiming his mouth and hands pushing his legs up, bending him almost painfully. But the thrusts were faster and harder.
His hands in Kakarot's thick and sweaty hair. Tugging that hair in time with the fucking. His gasps and groans loud in the air around them, Kakarot's pleas and moans even louder as they slammed together. Harder and faster. Slick and slippery. Grabbing each other wherever they could. He was shivering everywhere, right there, just waiting for it to be enough and Kakarot was pistoning into him, rubbing against him, trapping his own erection between their bodies--trapped in that heat and the hard thrust against the inside of him, making him cry out.
He was shaking, Kakarot was shaking. He clawed at the other man's skin, curled his legs around him and pulled him in--deep. Felt the edge tip and tossed his head back into the dirt. Rattled out his satisfaction with Kakarot sucking on his neck.

This part he had taught Kakarot, to wait for him. It had taken a lot of practicing, but Kakarot caught on eventually, learned to wait for him to tell him he could move again. He panted until the blinding depth of the orgasm was gone and then shoved against the large shoulders pinning him down. Rolled back on top.
Kakarot nodded pathetically. Still hard and pulsing inside of him. He nodded back, rolled his hips. Watched Kakarot watching him. Made a show of it. Flexing his muscles in time with the upthrusts from the man under him. Rolling and grinding and prolonging the moment until the fingers on his thighs were leaving black bruises. Then he leaned down, got leverage he needed and fucked his hips against Kakarot's.
Watched his face as the balance over tipped. Felt it inside of him when Kakarot let go and all his muscles turned to jelly between Vegeta's thighs. One shuddering sigh.

Vegeta laughed again. "Great plan, Kakarot."

The man under him laughed breathlessly. "What plan?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***
Chichi: *wields frying pan against helpless old ladies*
Goku: Seems like a good time to sneak out and have sex.
Vegeta: Indeed.