Final Fate

The plans

Vegeta had slept excellently, he felt this even when he wasn't really awake. He took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of the soft sheets on his skin and the pleasant warmth in his back. It was rare that he allowed Runa to stay in his bed after their unions. But every now and then he felt like falling asleep with her in his arms and waking up with her too. He smiled. This usually happened when they had made heated love and lay there afterwards, completely exhausted and sweaty, entwined with each other. The only strange thing was that he no longer remembered the act of last night. Maybe a union in the morning could jog his memory; and remedy the pulling in his loins.

The King of the Saiyans turned onto his back, stretching his arms above his head and yawning once heartily. He opened his eyes slowly and examined the arm that was still lying over his belly. However, even repeated blinking did not dispel what he had first thought was an afterimage of his sleep. The arm over his middle definitely didn't belong to Runa ... or any other female Saiyan ... it was too muscular for that. His black eyes following the body part to its source, he pulled the thin blanket down a bit and there lay Kakarott, hair wildly tousled, leaning against his side. The boy's steady breath brushed across his chest, not making the tugging in his loins any easier to bear. Had it ever occurred to him that it was annoying, that this thing demanded his will even without his consent?

Vegeta's heart leapt as Kakarott pressed closer to him and tried to use his upper body as a pillow. Now that shock of hair was actually lying on his chest! Tightening all the muscles in his body so as not to make any careless movement, he pushed off to the side and at the same time one of the pillows towards him. The bait was swallowed, Kakarott pulled it close, muttering, and slept on. As if any further touch of the body lying beside him might burn him, he took Kakarott's arm with pointed fingers and lifted it from his belly. At the same moment, the complete day of yesterday came back, including why the guy was lying in his bed.

The first impulse to stop this penetrating closeness, namely to grab Kakarott like a sack, shake him and throw him out of his bed, he had fortunately suppressed. He certainly didn't want to conjure up that scene. Just the thought of the younger boy waking up and finding out what had happened here ... no, just no. Again very careful not to let this scenario happen, he pushed his legs out from under the blanket and slid even further away from him, finally breaking all skin contact. Kakarott sank from his side lying position onto his stomach and grumbled unwillingly.

Turning his head, Vegeta saw Kakarott fumble with his arm over the place where he had been lying before, get hold of another pillow, pull it under his head, take a very deep, contented-looking breath, and then fall sound asleep again. Vegeta realised with irritation that he himself had been holding his breath and the pounding of his heart was surely due to the tension that he did not want anyone to ever know about this night under any circumstances. Even if nothing at all had happened.

Rubbing his face, he calmed his heartbeat. There was much to do that morning and the best way to start would be to make sure Kakarott disappeared from his bed. There was a deep sigh behind him and he turned his head again, looking at the sleeping face that was turned towards him. It had some bruises, some tears in the skin that had been taped. They weren't deep enough to leave scars and he had no idea if Kakarott even cared. Considering his general situation, Vegeta guessed, rather not.

It was strange, although he wanted Kakarott to know nothing about this night, or this awakening, he could not bring himself to get up. He sat here, looking at this young face, and found himself wondering what had led to Kakarott becoming a supersaiyajin. How had he grown up? How had he been able to become this paradox of warrior and emotion? How had he learned these techniques? Because this Kamehameha, or whatever it was called, had been equal to his Final Flash. He remembered that challenging glint in the turquoise eyes that had betrayed how much he had enjoyed their fight. The hair, black now but blonde then, now lay on his blue sheets. He almost touched it. I wonder what it felt like.