Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

They stared down at the...the stuff, eyes wide.

"But Trunks, what is it?"

The older boy smirked, looking very like his infamous father. "I'm not sure. It's Dad's. He'd probably kill us for even knowing it's here."

Unfortunately, ever since Vegeta had so easily and casually decked him during that whole Majin Buu mess, Son Goten hadn't had enough gumption to push the Prince's buttons.
"I dunno, Trunks. That doesn't look like pot. It looks more like...I dunno...moss. Maybe even a fungus. And it smells funny. Bitter. I thought pot was supposed to smell sweet."

Trunks rolled his eyes. "I never said pot, doofus. I said it's probably like pot." His smirk softened to a crooked grin. "Dad brought this stuff with him from the home planet, I think. It's gotta have quite a kick."

"Indeed it does, brat."

The boys froze, their eyes locked in mutual expressions of frightened shock.

"If you tried it, you might well end up with either a brain aneurysm or an instant heart attack. I'm not sure which. I'm not sure what it would do to your weak human systems." The rough, usually harsh voice sounded disturbingly amused. Almost pleasant, even. "I am, however, quite interested in finding out. By all means, brat, light up."

Goten recovered just enough to blink, but the single flicker seemed to break the spell. He jerked a quick glance at Vegeta, who looked just as amused as he sounded, then at the pouch of...stuff in Trunks' hands, then briefly and desperately at the glass balcony doors. If he could just move fast enough....

Swallowing hard, Trunks finally found his voice. "Um...we weren't actually planning to try it, Dad. I was...you know...just curious...."

The surface amusement faded just enough to show the fury lurking deep in those glittering, black eyes. Quite simply, Vegeta was pissed.
Suddenly, Goten wished he'd just stayed at home.

"Of course, brat. As you were just curious about my gravity chamber's highest setting. As you were just curious about the woman's newest energy drink. As you were just curious about how long it would take Kakarot to notice you stealing his training gear a piece at a time."

Dark eyes narrowed, and a true smirk quirked the harsh mouth.

"Although that one was actually quite amusing."

Finally finding his courage, Goten pushed awkwardly to his feet.
"I...um...have to go, Sir. Excuse me."

Oh, he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Now, he had Vegeta's full attention, and nothing was worse than getting in trouble with the man who saw nothing wrong with ordering ten thousand push-ups. As a warm-up.

"And you, whelp. What would your idiot of a father think?"

That hurt. Somehow, the Prince had managed to both chasten him and insult his father, all in one sentence. He lowered his head, wishing more than ever that he'd just laughed off Trunks' ridiculous idea about getting high on whatever weird weed his father had brought across the stars.

'It has to be good stuff, Goten! Why else would he have kept it all this time?'

Why else, indeed? And why, oh why had he let Trunks talk him into this?

"Nothing to say for yourself? Shocking, that."

Dismissed. Just like that. He would never figure out how Vegeta did that.

"Trunks, stand up."

Uh-oh. Things were very bad indeed when Vegeta actually called his son by name. Preparing for the very worst, Goten couldn't help but sidle closer to his friend when Trunks obediently stood. The shit was just about to hit the fan.

"Laps. Gravity chamber. Two hundred times gravity. Now."

That didn't sound so bad.

"No Super Saiyan. No power ups. No breaks. And that's just for starters."

His heart dropped, and beside him, Trunks slumped.

"I said now!"

He didn't know about Trunks, but he didn't need another prompt. If that was the beginning of their punishment, he had no intention of making it worse.
If he could have moved faster by tripping his best friend, he'd have done so in a heartbeat.

-
The furious Prince watched the boys run from his room, a large part of him still wanting to throttle them senseless for invading his private space. Besides the gravity chamber, his bedroom was the only place he could truly call his own. And even the gravity chamber had received its share of visitors over the years, what with the brats' off-and-on training and Kakarot's continual attempts to ingratiate himself.

But his room...his room was his own.

Until now.

Scowling heavily, he glanced around to make sure nothing else had been disturbed, then knelt and studied the pouch he hadn't laid eyes on in decades. Leather, of a sort, and stitched together with some sort of animal hair, it was hand-painted with Saiyan blood in intricate swirls and mystical angles -- the rudiments of a language so far in the past that he barely remembered what the symbols meant.

The pouch was one of the very few possessions he'd kept from his home planet. What it contained could never be replaced, even with a wish from that overgrown lizard.
And those useless, undisciplined, unprincipled spawn would have simply wasted it if he hadn't caught them with it.

A growl rumbled in his chest and his fists clenched. Three days. At least three days in the gravity chamber on survival rations. Perhaps then, they might understand not to toy with something so priceless. To never touch what was his.

Snatching up the pouch, he crawled half under his bed for the matching equipment, reluctantly relaxing when he realized the boys hadn't found this other, crucial piece of the set. Without it, they probably wouldn't have done more than make themselves sick and jittery.
And utterly waste his last scrap of home.
Bristling with returned fury, he pivoted on his heel and flung a hand at his balcony doors, shattering the glass with an invisible blast of energy. His teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached, he leapt into the air and flew away from Capsule Corp., taking his few pieces of Saiyan history with him. As his room was obviously no longer his own, he would simply find someplace else to keep something so important.
And if those brats so much as stepped a toe outside his gravity chamber while he was gone....

He flew blindly until his senses informed him that no one was near. Finally slowing and actually looking at his surroundings, he debated on the best place to store his few treasures indefinitely. He needed someplace dry, but not too hot. Someplace safe.

Just as he began to scowl in earnest, an even bigger problem presented itself.

"Heya, Vegeta!"

'Great. Kakarot. Just what I need. As if his spawn wasn't enough for one day.'

"What's up?" The idiot's gaze shifted to the items clutched in his hands. "Hey, what's that? Looks...interesting. I didn't know you smoked."

Several taunts danced on his tongue, but he was still too furious from the near miss with the boys to deal with the third class at the moment.

"None of your business, idiot. Get the hell away from me."

To his chagrin, the fool didn't seem offended. "Aw, I won't tell Bulma, Vegeta. Your secret's safe with me."

Rolling his eyes, he wondered how the hell he was supposed to keep a healthy front of anger against someone who barely noticed the effort.

"Oh, for the love of--"

"That's a cool pipe, though. It looks almost...I dunno...like one of those peace pipes." The big idiot flew closer, though he kept his hands to himself. "Can I take a look?"

Whipping the priceless equipment behind his back, he scowled. "No, you cannot. I said get the hell away from me, idiot. Even you can't misunderstand that direct an order."

The third class's expression became disturbingly cunning -- the look the idiot only got when he thought he'd figured something out to someone else's detriment.

'Oh, hell.'

"Don't tell me the Prince of all Saiyans has been dipping into the wacky tobaccy."

As he had no earthly clue what the hell the clown was talking about, he didn't have to feign utter confusion. Apparently, his dumbfounded expression was enough to quash whatever retarded idea the big idiot had spawned in that benighted lump of mush he called a brain.

"Well...that's what the Indians smoked, you know, with their peace pipes." The fool shifted, lifting a hand to the back of his head and blushing across his nose. "Quit looking at me like that!"

"Kakarot, what the hell are you babbling about?"

Slumping, the clown sighed, all the animation leaking out of his face. Vegeta couldn't help but feel a little bad -- a very little bad -- for so completely deflating the younger Saiyan. Despite his idiocy, Kakarot tried hard to please, to be likeable.

"Look, idiot, I don't have time for your stupidity today. I'm taking these someplace safe so that our spawn cannot simply waste them." He clutched his artifacts more tightly, a bit more of his rough demeanor leaking away. "They are...all I have left."

He hated that the fool always seemed to get more information out of him than anyone else. Somehow, he couldn't help saying more than was absolutely necessary.
And damn if the idiot didn't usually understand more than what was said.
Case in point, the confusion and stupidity bled out of the familiar features, leaving a sympathetic intelligence that Vegeta was quite sure only he saw on a regular basis. The younger Saiyan simply nodded, his dark eyes solemn.

"I'm sure Dende would let you store them at the Lookout. There are hundreds of rooms there -- thousands, really -- and I'm sure one of them would be safe enough for whatever you want to preserve."

'Why didn't I think of that?'

But he knew why. Technically, he was as welcome as anyone else at the Lookout. Realistically, he was about as welcome as a hungry Saiyan at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

However, if Kakarot accompanied him....

Forcing a smirk he didn't really feel, he asked without asking. "Lead the way, then, idiot. I don't have time to float around arguing with you about it."

He felt marginally better when the fool grinned -- not the stupid grin that would have set his hackles raising, but a true, amused smile that didn't show nearly as many teeth.

"Race you there."

'Blithering idiot.'

But damn if he didn't flare his energy and fly as fast as he could without ascending.
-
"A room with no time. Who knew?"

Goku looked around the room with unabashed fascination. When Dende had said he had the perfect place to keep such irreplaceable treasures from their destroyed home planet, he hadn't quite known what to expect. An endless white plain like the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, maybe. Or something like a stuffy old library, all wooden paneling and shelves and that faint scent of dust.
He hadn't expected a barren plain of dark, colorless rock as far as the eye could see. He couldn't have pictured a sunless, cloudless, gunmetal sky, the seemingly airless taste of stagnation, the utter lack of even a breath of wind. It was as if the room was...waiting. Holding its breath.

In fact, it was a little unnerving.

"This will do."

Vegeta's voice sounded strangely flat and toneless. Did his sound the same? As if there were no molecules in the air to vibrate off of? To give it form and resonance?

"I guess." He cast another fascinated look around, looking for any movement, any sign of life. Then again, how could anything live where there was no time?
"Does this place kinda...give you the creeps?"

He felt Vegeta's eyes on him, but he dreaded the smug look of superiority he knew twisted those features. Keeping his own gaze on the barren landscape, he wished he could take the stupid question back.

'No wonder he thinks I'm an idiot.'

"It suits my needs. Whether or not it 'gives me the creeps' hardly matters."

Despite the flatness of that rough voice, Goku couldn't miss the lightly mocking tone. Well, he supposed he'd earned it this once.
Wanting to lower his head but knowing the gesture would only give his old rival more ammo, he instead shifted his gaze to the pouch and pipe the older Saiyan was so determined to protect. He was on fire to know what they were, to know how Vegeta had kept them safe all these years. Sure, he'd tried to respect his elder's privacy, but....

'But dammit, it's my history, too. Isn't that what Vegeta would say?'

"Hey, Vegeta...." He trailed off, unsure how to appeal to the better nature he knew lurked under the Prince's usual bad mood. "Um...that stuff is Saiyan, right?"

A grunt. Shooting a glance at his occasional ally, he guessed it was at least an affirmative grunt.

"Could you...maybe tell me about it?"

That was definitely not an affirmative grunt. "What do you care?"

He sighed, again choosing to look at the lack of movement in the distance instead of the mockery in the older Saiyan's harsh eyes.
"You say it's all you have left." He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on the horizon. "Well, I don't have even that."

'How does he get me to talk like this? To say such things? To admit things?'

A long silence strung out. Or perhaps no silence at all. Time didn't move here, after all. They could have stood here for an eternity and never noticed.

"Tra'nesh."

"Huh?"

A strangely patient sigh. "The pouch contains tra'nesh. And this is a korinot."

He felt the pipe thing against his hand, and his fingers closed on it almost automatically. He brought it up to his eyes for a close study, but his widening grin was not from wonder at such obvious craftsmanship. Nor was it fascination at this piece of Saiyan history.
No, he grinned because Vegeta trusted him with something so precious, trusted his big, clumsy, idiot hands on an irreplaceable artifact from their mutual past.

"It's...beautiful, Vegeta."

And it was, once the initial burst of pride at his old rival's gesture of trust passed and he really looked at what he held. The pipe was probably a foot and a half long, narrow at one end and flared at the other, and made of some smooth, ivory-fine bone. Intricate designs had been carved into the curvature and stained a deep, cloudy grey. He traced his fingers over the sharp edges and graceful swirls, wishing he knew what they meant, if they meant anything at all.

'I bet Vegeta knows....'

"What does it do? The...the tra'nesh?"

He tried to say it like Vegeta had, the word harsh but somehow rolling, almost purring. Saiyan.

When the older Saiyan didn't answer right away, he risked a glance, wondering if he'd said the word wrong. To his surprise, Vegeta was fidgeting. And blushing.

"What?"

A grunt. "To be honest, I don't know what it does. I've never used it."

He blinked. "But...."

Heavy brows drew together in that infamous scowl. The expression clashed with the blush still heating the royal cheeks. "I was a child when Planet Vegeta was destroyed, idiot. I didn't think to take anything with me. I...stole it from your idiot brother, who stole it from Nappa."

Fighting desperately against a grin, Goku cleared his throat. "You never tried it?"

Vegeta crossed his arms and turned half away. "I never had time. And by the time I settled here enough for such experiments, I did not wish to waste something that cannot be replenished."

He studied his old rival's profile, feeling his burgeoning grin falter when the Prince lowered his eyes to study the toes of the ever-present boots.
"And I did not wish to try it alone. There was...no one else."

So many things became clear that he nearly flinched. Here he'd thought Vegeta only cared about his vanished race because of his royal birthright, because he no longer had anyone but a stupid third class to rule. He'd never once thought the Prince would simply miss...companionship. Saiyan companionship.
He'd never thought the taciturn, standoffish older Saiyan might miss simply being with others of his own kind.

Taking a deep breath, he opened himself up to a whole new kind of hurt.

"I'm here, Vegeta."

Dark, burning eyes flicked to his own and that infinitely cruel mouth opened to deliver a stinging put-down...then closed. Vegeta studied him for long moments -- or for a mere instant -- then tilted his head to one side, the ferocious light in his eyes changing, lessening.

"I don't know what will happen, Kakarot. Perhaps it will send us to Oozaru. Perhaps it will do nothing at all." Measuring him. The Prince was measuring him even as he spoke. "Are you sure you're game?"

For once, Goku was determined to measure up. Smirking in what he hoped was his best Vegeta imitation, he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, setting a small lick of energy to dancing above his thumb.

"I even brought a lighter."

-
At least no one would notice them missing if they had to stay in this bizarre room long enough to outlast the effects. According to the over-pious little sprout running this place, no time would pass while they were inside this room. Nor would time pass inside the room once they left it.
It seemed like a paradox, but Vegeta had no idea how to argue that kind of logic.

While he had no idea what had possessed him to agree to getting high with Kakarot, of all people, he couldn't deny a sense of...anticipation. While he hadn't truly thought of his hidden stash in years, he had always wanted to try it out, to imbibe this one last bit of Saiyan tradition.

He hazily remembered seeing his father lighting the korinot at one of his Court gatherings and had only slightly more intact memories of Nappa bringing out the tra'nesh on Frieza's ship and sharing a few puffs with Raditz. Though he'd been too young to join in at the time, he remembered being vaguely envious of the toothy grins they'd shared as they passed the pipe back and forth.
Shortly thereafter, Raditz had stolen both the pouch and the korinot. And shortly thereafter, Vegeta had stolen it in turn.

But he'd never tried it himself.

As Kakarot sat just opposite him, crossing his legs and waiting with wide-eyed patience as Vegeta slowly packed the korinot with acrid-smelling bits of what looked like dirty moss, he caught himself wishing he knew what to expect. He wanted to share the narrow-eyed smirks that his other two subjects had exchanged, to know this part of Saiyan history and perhaps to explain it to his brat some day. He wanted...well, he didn't really know what he wanted.
But to his surprise, he did grin, baring his teeth as Kakarot leaned forward and again snapped his fingers, effectively lighting his thumb. It became more difficult to ignore that kind of indomitable cheer as the years passed, and right now, he didn't even try. The big dope's grin was just as wide as his own, and as he took the first few puffs -- twisting the korinot slightly to light the tra'nesh equally -- he admitted that if he were forced to get wasted with anyone on this planet, Kakarot was a good choice.

The big idiot acted high half the time, anyway.

He fought the urge to cough the acrid, strangely thick smoke out of his lungs and passed the korinot to Kakarot, who sniffed warily, then reluctantly closed his mouth over the tip and breathed deep. The poor fool immediately choked and hacked, his face turning red and his eyes bugging out.

Laughing, he plucked the pipe out of the younger Saiyan's flailing hand and leaned forward to thump him on the back.

"Breathe, Kakarot. And learn to inhale slowly. This stuff is supposed to be potent."

Still coughing, the fool nodded and rubbed at his chest. He handed the korinot back when Kakarot's breathing steadied enough for another puff, wondering how long it took for the tra'nesh to kick in. How would he know when it did?

Would he know?

His rival inhaled more slowly this time, dark eyes fluttering closed as he pulled the korinot from his mouth and continued breathing in. The move was so...evocative...so strangely interesting that Vegeta couldn't look away. At last the momentous inhale crested, and the fool exhaled just as slowly, smoke clouding and curling from his parted lips in fascinating whorls.

"Tastes better than it smells."

Eyes glued to those intriguing lips as they formed the smoke-limned words, he stared in abject amazement. The words themselves weren't as important as the fact that the smoke, once Kakarot quit breathing it, just seemed to hang in the motionless air, those mystic swirls all but frozen with no breath to disperse them. Holding his breath, he reached out and traced a finger through the haze, smiling like a child when he caused a new pattern in the hanging cloud.

"Wow...."

The single word again rearranged the complex curls of smoke before Kakarot's lips, and Vegeta found himself fascinated by both the effect and the cause.
He took the korinot when the younger Saiyan handed it back, inhaled deeply, then watched with wide eyes as he created his own smoky canvas, his breath creating whorls every bit as strange and beautiful as Kakarot's.

"Vegeta...do that again...."

But before he could, soft fingers stroked over his lips, the touch so unexpected that if he hadn't been so caught by the smoke trailing behind each finger, he might have accidentally bitten them off in surprise.

"You...you breathe...and it changes everything."

Kakarot sounded as awe-struck as he felt, and he couldn't bring himself to pull away. He'd been tempted to touch the lips that had caused such incredible movement in the otherwise timeless air. He couldn't fault his rival for wanting to explore what had so fascinated him.
Leaning forward into the light, wondering touch, he lifted the korinot to Kakarot's mouth, tracing the tip over the full lower lip in invitation.

"Now...you."

Wonder of wonders, those amazing lips closed over the tip and the younger Saiyan again inhaled long and slow, closing his eyes. Vegeta watched as the broad chest rose and rose, then leaned closer still as Kakarot breathed out. He pressed his face into both the physical touch of his rival's hand and into the cloud of miraculous symbols issuing forth. He felt them brush past his face, felt Kakarot's fingers trace them over his lips, his cheek, his closed eyes.

'Fascinating....'

"Fascinating...."

Had he thought it? Had Kakarot whispered it?

When he opened his eyes to open his mouth to ask, he saw his old rival enshrouded in a mysterious caul of runic smoke, the timeless room preserving the moment for some measureless span of eternity, and he felt heat trickle into his groin. Kakarot's softly parted lips traced with ghostly white, his eyes glimmering in the sunless light, his familiar face blurred and made fascinating by the swirling, motionless smoke symbols....

The trickle of heat became a veritable flood.

'Is this what those toothy smirks were about? Is this what tra'nesh does?'

But the word sounded so good in his mind that he had to say it aloud.

"Trrrraaah...nesh."

Kakarot shuddered, his eyes rolling up as his head lolled back. Baring his teeth, Vegeta leaned closer still and dropped his gaze to his rival's lap. Oh, yes. The younger Saiyan was obviously having his own heat-flooding problems, if the suddenly tight crotch of those jeans was any indication.

"Kakarrrrrot...."

Purring the name as he'd purred the wonderful, mystic word, turned his face into his old rival's hand, smelling the thinly acrid smoke and the spicy scent of Kakarot's palm. When a warm, insistent mouth pressed into his neck, he merely adjusted the tilt of his head to give the fool more room. And when a hot, wet tongue traced the smoke-runes he knew the other Saiyan tasted on his skin, he simply flicked out his own tongue to trace the patterns on Kakarot's wrist.

He continued his oral doodling as his...his rival? Did Kakarot still count as a rival? Surely, something as miraculous as tra'nesh couldn't be shared between rivals, could it?

His...compatriot, then. He continued tracing his tongue over Kakarot's skin as his compatriot drew away for another pull at the korinot. However, instead of simply adding to the gorgeously complex haze already hanging over them, the younger Saiyan sought out Vegeta's mouth with his own and...and breathed into him.

Thick, strangely sweet smoke filled him, followed by an equally sweet tongue. He sucked it down his throat, both the smoke and the tongue, refusing to choke on either. And when he breathed back out, he returned the gesture by thrusting his own tongue down his compatriot's throat.
The smoke from his lungs tasted lightly acrid, though, and he realized as he delved into Kakarot's mouth that the sweetness was solely Kakarot. The man simply tasted sweet, tasted wonderful.

And he was suddenly hungry.

He pressed into the smoke-shrouded body across from him, but it refused to budge. In fact, it pushed right back against him, and he found himself on his back, staring wide-eyed up into the mystic whorls of smoke tracing Kakarot's cheeks. A protest formed on his lips, but a single look at the glittering, mist-shrouded black of his compatriot's eyes silenced him.

Kakarot...was also hungry.

"Vegeta...."

The word swirled the haze between their lips, seeming portentous with weight and movement. It seemed a promise, a threat, a miracle. All of these and more.

"Vegeta...."

"Kakarot."

And though he had little doubt that things should be different, it was decided as simply as that. It was decided in the space between them, in a curl of mist that only moved when they breathed, that stole the timelessness of the room just long enough for them to remove their clothes and return to each other, smoke-painted skin to smoke-painted skin.

'Oh, yes. This is what tra'nesh does.'

-
Vegeta had yielded to him. Of all the wondrous things that had happened since they had first lit the pipe, this seemed the most miraculous. He hadn't even needed to ask. The smoke had asked for him, and his ally -- the man who had fought beside him at least as often as he'd fought against him -- had answered.

Amazed and naked against the white-enshrouded body of the Prince of all Saiyans, Goku could only lower his head and taste the smoke, taste the skin so astonishingly bared to him. Not bitter, this smoke. Not acrid, this skin.
Spice. Vegeta tasted of spice and heat, of secrets and of power.
If this was what tra'nesh did, it was no wonder it had survived the destruction of their home planet. He would have moved Otherworld and Earth if he'd known about this taste, this feel, this moment.

Vegeta moved against him, proving that the heat that had spread through his own blood had also warmed the Prince's. But even as he felt a thick, hard erection prod his hip, he expected to be denied this. Expected Vegeta to come to his senses, to ignore the swirling smoke symbols and command that the third class idiot unhand him this instant. Even as he traced his tongue over skin overlaid with smoke-runes that looked remarkably like the designs carved into the korinot, he expected this to end before it really began.
But he didn't hesitate. The smoke-hazed body below him beckoned with every muscle, every slow writhe to his touch, and he followed where it led. He tasted, and he touched, and he breathed in the acrid tra'nesh and the hot spice of his...his ally. His lover?

Another jab of that rock-hard erection assured him of that last, and he bared his teeth in a grin that held nothing of stupidity and everything of anticipation.

Holding his breath and watching the heavy, hanging smoke pause with the lack of moving air, he reached down and traced his fingers along that straining, thick length. Vegeta's breath left him in a swirl of smoke, his whole body tightening at the single touch. A thin sheen of sweat broke over the pale-honey skin, and the mystic whorls of smoke clung to the moisture, seeming to paint what could only be Saiyan symbols in white across the Prince's muscular body.

'Beautiful...so incredibly beautiful....'

Taking the smoke-painted length fully into his hand, he stroked as surely as he'd ever stroked himself and was rewarded with a veritable shout that moved the smoke into a new and fascinating shape. The previously hazed face was suddenly clear, the eyes squeezed shut, the head thrown back, the jaw exquisitely clenched.

"Vegeta...."

He watched the name swirl the smoke, then brushed past the hanging symbol to taste the designs etched in Vegeta's sweat. Stroking again as he tasted the tra'nesh clinging to his lover's skin, he purred deep in his chest and wondered at the sensation, wondered when he had last felt good enough to manage the purely Saiyan sound, when he'd last felt comfortable sounding so inhuman.

"Kakarrrrrrot...."

His purr sped a bit to match the one rumbling in Vegeta's chest, and he lowered his mouth to taste that rumble, pressing his lips to the disintegrating smoke-runes vibrating over his lover's heart.

Taste. Sound. Sensation.
Sensory overload.

His own arousal ached with the influx, and he pressed himself against Vegeta's groin, grinding against the satiny skin and hard muscle. That beautiful body responded by lifting muscled thighs to clutch him close, by arching into the thrust. Strong hands gripped his hair, his back, and he forgot all about not being allowed this.
Giving one more good, solid stroke that again brought his lover's body arching against his own, he let go of that tempting arousal, licked his palm, then stroked himself, his breath leaving him in a gust that further mired the smoke between them. Vegeta leaned up and licked his chin, eyes hazed not with smoke but with need, and he complied with the wordless command, thrusting inside until he lay fully against that honeyed skin, shivering as hot muscle clutched him inside and out, as the rumbling purr caught and missed, caught and missed.

Bliss. Ecstasy. Desire.
Tra'nesh.

They were one and the same. They were the clutch of slick muscle as he pulled away. They were the smoky shout as he thrust back inside. They were the heavy solidity of grasping hands and gripping thighs.
They were Vegeta.
He threw back his head and breathed deep of the hanging smoke and the scent of arousal and sweat, feeling heat flare through him almost painfully.

Desire. Need.

Closing his eyes to the messages in the smoke, he simply thrust. And thrust. And thrust again. He thrust until the beautiful body below him turned to slick, molten iron, until a hoarse shout traced smoke-fingers across his face, until a flood of heat painted his stomach and groin a new shade of white that had nothing to do with smoke and everything to do with the timelessness of moment and need.
And, existing in that moment for a long eternity -- or a bare moment -- he paused at the pinnacle and savored the scent, the sensation, the surreal, the smoke. He held on as long as he could, opening his eyes to take in the hanging, waiting smoke, the sunless sky, the incredible body that had ceased its writhing and now trembled in an agony of anticipation below him.
And breathing out, he thrust one last time, thrust to his fullest measure, and felt the heat flare in him, through him and into his lover, sharing back and forth between them as they'd shared the smoke before. He came like time itself, shattering the motionlessness of the room with an echoing roar that moved everything it touched.

-
Time passed. Or it didn't. It was hard to tell in a room where no time existed.

All Vegeta knew was that at some point, he saw clearly again. The smoke had moved on with Kakarot's last shout, but it had still hazed his mind for some time afterward. When it finally relinquished its hold on him, he realized that the gunmetal sky hadn't changed and that the other Saiyan had not moved in hours...or minutes.

"Kakarot, get off me."

The bulk shifted, and he winced as he realized that, not only had the big idiot not moved, he hadn't pulled out, either.

"Move. Now."

"Oh. Okay."

Kakarot's solid heat pulled away, slipping out of him even as it slipped away from him. The room was neither cool nor hot, of course, but he shivered just the same. What must it be like to sleep next to that veritable furnace?

Pushing the thought away, he sat up and searched the barren plain for his clothes and his artifacts. Kakarot's shout and flare of power had flung them far and wide, but he was grateful for the opportunity to get up and away -- away from the dark, considering gaze, away from the questions that surely bubbled under the surprisingly calm surface of the usually expressive face.

He did his best not to limp as he trudged toward his jeans. If nothing else, that had been quite the dedicated screwing. He shied away from thinking about it too fully, though. He still didn't quite know how to react. Blasting the fool was a distinct possibility, of course, but the deep burn of satisfaction inside him made him strangely reluctant to...break the mood.
Besides, he wasn't sure he could safely blame Kakarot just yet.
When he was fully dressed, he picked up the pouch of tra'nesh and non-limped over to the korinot. The smooth surface was unmarred by its short brush with Kakarot's energy. He studied the symbols carved into the smoky-white bone. He recognized a few, remembered them from his admittedly hazy and dream-like study of Kakarot's nude body as it worked above him.

He wondered if perhaps Nappa or Raditz had recognized those mystic, strangely magnetic symbols.

"Kakarot."

"Yes?"

He'd known the idiot was lurking, but the fool had shown surprising restraint by not speaking until spoken to. Finally turning to face the younger Saiyan, he was relieved to see that Kakarot had spent the long silence well. The big dope was fully dressed.

"We tell no one of this."

"Okay."

His brows lowered into a frown. He hadn't expected such easy acceptance.
Then again, how could Kakarot honestly tell anyone anyway? What could he say to those idiot humans? To his half-human spawn? To that harpy of a former mate that he still brought to barbeques and the woman's yearly gatherings?

His frown deepened as he abruptly wondered if Kakarot had anyone to really talk to.
And the fool sighed. "I'm sorry, Vegeta."

The apology pulled him from his thoughts, and he blinked. "What?"

"I should have known to stop. I kept expecting you to tell me to stop, but I know I should have done it on my own. I'm sorry. I...hope you're not too mad at me. I hope...we can still be friends."

His mind temporarily blank, he could only blink.

The idiot dropped his gaze to his boots, touching a hand to the back of his head. "I understand. If you ever, you know, want to spar or anything...."

The fool turned and headed for the door. It looked ludicrous just standing there, a simple wood frame and a door to nowhere in the middle of nowhere. He almost let himself ponder the absurdity until Kakarot walked through, but he couldn't bring himself to just let it go.

"Kakarot."

"...Yes?"

"Who the hell else am I supposed to split this stuff with?"

He smirked as the big idiot spun around, that quintessential dumb-struck expression firmly in place.

"But next time, I'm on top."

-
The door opened, and Dende couldn't help but grin as Goku spilled out into the hallway backward, landing flat on his back with a resounding thud. Vegeta, arms crossed and a suspicious smirk on his face, calmly followed, stepping over the body sprawled on the floor.
Goku didn't seem to be hurt -- was, in fact, grinning from ear to ear -- so the young god merely smiled indulgently and helped Earth's champion to his feet.

"Thanks, Dende. Hey, how long were we in there?"

"The door opened just after it closed behind you. You weren't gone at all, really."

The happy grin brightened. "That's amazing! It felt like we were in there for hours!"

The Saiyan Prince rolled his eyes, though his smirk remained in place.

"Idiot."

But again, Goku didn't seem hurt by the taunt, and Vegeta didn't seem actually angry or even put out. Dende had often wondered why Vegeta's taunts simply rolled off Goku's back and why the younger Saiyan's silly happiness never quite pushed the volitile older Saiyan over the edge.

Saiyan comraderie, perhaps? A bond of warriors?
Or was it just their own odd brand of friendship?

Either way, it was none of his business really. They got along in their own, strange way. Though they sparred like mortal enemies, often enough to require senzu or his own healing, and though they occasionally traded insults strong enough to enrage everyone around them, they rarely actually fought, and rarely did a month pass without some contact between them. Odd, really, but probably a good thing for the last two members of the Saiyan race.

"I take it the room suits your needs?"

Goku blushed to the roots of his hair and Vegeta snorted something between a grunt and a chuckle. His grin falling slightly, Dende tilted his head to one side and studied the two.

Had he said something wrong?

The Prince cleared his throat and smirked, his eyes narrowing. "It's perfect."
And then, while the young deity watched with wide, confused eyes, the older Saiyan fixed the blushing Goku with a look so weighty with...with something...that he felt uncomfortable even watching the two.

"We will visit again." Another heavy, exchanged glance that made him want to tug at the neck of his robes. "Often."

And while Goku chuckled uncomfortably and put a hand to the back of his head and Vegeta smirked in his own inimitable style, Dende simply shook his head and tried not to think too hard about this newest quirk in the long and bizarre history of the Saiyan race.

The young god was firmly convinced that some things were better left alone.