Gamble
Zaabon watched the Saiya-jin-no-Ou from the shadows.
On the surface it had been an audience like any other. Veiled threats on Furiizaa's part about what would happen to the little prince if the Saiya-jin-no-Ou didn't do as ordered. King Vejiita dutifully obedient. His guard standing to attention, motionless. But below the surface so much else was simmering - Vejiita's intense hatred of the Ice Lord, the aching loss of his firstborn son and the heir to the kingdom, his fear that despite his assurances Furiizaa would injure or kill the child. The Guard's shared fury that their king and themselves had been brought to this unbearable humiliation. Furiizaa's sneering satisfaction at having this race of supreme warriors under his complete control.
It was all making Zaabon's head ache fiercely. Yet again he cursed the empathic skills Furiizaa had forced up from his subconscious, the talents that made him so useful to the tyrant and that caused him such pain...
He needed some time to himself, as far from his much-loathed Master as he could get. Even a few minutes would do, a tiny space of time without having to feel Furiizaa's slimy thoughts pressing against his mind, miring his nerve-endings, making him feel so... so soiled.
He'd slowly moved behind one of the pillars flanking the throneroom, clearing his mind of any emotion, trying to give the vague impression that he was checking the palace for potential threats. It had worked before - though not always - and he had hopes that it would work this time, especially as Furiizaa's mind was full of elated gloating, his minions temporarily disregarded...
Zaabon had held himself still and silent behind the pillar, waiting for everyone to leave, intending simply to sit in the centre of the throneroom and relish the space and silence once the huge hall was empty. And the 'briefing' had finally come to an end, the parties dispersing: after Furiizaa had left, after the court had been cleared, Vejiita had commanded Zorn, the guardsman who rarely left his side, to go too. Reluctantly the big man had bowed his head and obeyed his king.
Leaving the Saiya-jin-no-Ou alone in the empty, echoing chamber.
And Vejiita had lowered his head into his hands, his shoulders slumped, a small figure in the vast throneroom. Zaabon's eyes had widened as he watched.
The king's shoulders were shaking.
Furiizaa's lieutenant walked forward silently, surprised when Vejiita didn't scent his approach. He paused before the throne, head inclined.
"What is wrong?"
At the first syllable the king's head had jerked up, lips parted in a feral snarl - but there were tears in his eyes. Zaabon frowned, but Vejiita spoke first.
"Furiizaa's lackey... Might have known he'd leave someone behind. Here to spy on me, are you?"
"Why are you crying? I thought the Saiya-jin despised tears."
"Oh, I see - it's a fact-finding mission. What are you going to do, report back to your Master, tell him how weak I am?"
Zaabon frowned. He knew he was loathed - everyone in Furiizaa's service was loathed, by those outside it, with an intensity that was hard to put into words: it used to hurt, but familiarity had made it no more than a constant ache deep within him - but he wasn't used to this... insolence? Yes, he supposed it could be called insolence.
"No."
Vejiita stared at him, his suspicion obvious.
"Why not? Why else are you here?"
For one moment Zaabon was almost tempted to tell him, but that would be unwise. Very unwise. No-one was to be trusted. Nor was he under any compulsion to answer the Saiyan. He stared at Vejiita until the king lowered his eyes, unable to endure the other's calm golden gaze.
Vejiita rose abruptly and headed towards the huge double-doored exit, glancing back over his shoulder once.
"Come with me."
Curious, Zaabon followed the Saiyan down long, dimly lit corridors until they reached what was obviously the royal suite. Vejiita beckoned the alien inside and closed the door, then turned to Zaabon.
"Will my son be safe?"
Zaabon inclined his head. "While he is of use to Furiizaa, yes, he will be safe."
There was a hint of fear in the king's eyes. "And how long will that be?"
"That, I have no way of knowing. Much depends on your behaviour and that of your people."
Vejiita pulled off his gloves and yanked the armour from his body, tossing them aside as he began to pace, arms tightly crossed over his chest. He stopped at a large window, staring unseeingly out into the palace grounds.
"How does he normally treat hostages?"
"Your son is a guest, not a hostage."
Vejiita snorted. "Let's just forget the fiction, shall we? He's as much a hostage as I am - a warranty for my obedience, as I am for his life. How will Furiizaa treat him?"
Zaabon sighed.
"I... don't know. If he finds the child attractive..."
Vejiita stared narrowly, anxiously.
"What?"
"It's of no import. He will most likely have the child trained to become one of his own warriors. I may be ordered to train him myself."
"What did you mean, if Furiizaa finds him attractive?"
"I misspoke. Ignore the comment."
The king grabbed Zaabon's upper arms below the shoulder guards of his armour, nails sinking into the blue skin, the enormity - and danger - of such presumption disregarded in his dismay.
"Tell me what you meant"
Zaabon should have simply brushed him aside and left - it was what every sensible cell in his mind was telling him to do. But there was an intensity in the king's eyes, a deep, deep desperation in his mind, that overwhelmed the alien's rationality. He lowered his eyes.
"It's possible he will... use the child."
"What do you mean, use?" But he already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it. Zaabon closed his eyes.
"Take the child into his bed. Use him as a sex slave. Break him."
"As he broke you?"
Zaabon's eyes flashed open. Vejiita's face was tight - with disgust, the alien thought. Suddenly overwhelmingly weary of being hated, he sighed.
"Yes. As he used and broke me."
"Furiizaa's whore." The rich voice dripped contempt. Zaabon's eyes hardened.
"As your son may become."
Vejiita shook his head decisively. "No. No Saiyan would ever submit to it."
"He may have no choice."
"He's too strong..."
"He's a child. He's weaker now than I was at his age. It made no difference to me."
"No. It won't happen. It can't happen!" There was increasing desperation in the voice.
"It can. It may not, however. If you do as Furiizaa wants."
Vejiita wrenched himself away from the alien and resumed pacing. After a moment he stopped and swung to Zaabon.
"Will you help him?"
Zaabon inclined his head, frowning. Did the Saiyan not realise the enormity of what he was asking?
"Even if I wished to do so, I can't. Not without risk to myself."
Vejiita nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping. He glanced at Zaabon.
"Is he... is he cruel?"
Clutching at straws in the wind... Would it be better to lie or be honest?
He sighed. "He - is not kind. He desires control - the less easily controlled the subject, the more he enjoys the fight."
"And you fought?"
"Of course. For a long, long time. But no-one can fight him forever." Unaware of the fear and revulsion in his face as the memories resurfaced, Zaabon closed his eyes to force them back down. His expression wasn't lost on Vejiita, who scowled.
"Why are you still with him? If you - dislike him that much?"
Zaabon flashed him a quick, alarmed glance. If that got back to Furiizaa...
"I don't - dislike him. I simply have no choice. Furiizaa demands obedience from his men. He's much stronger than I am - and I prefer to stay alive..."
"Alive? You don't know what it is to be alive!"
Vejiita grabbed the emerald green plait, pulled the band from the end and yanked Zaabon's face close - and planted firm hot lips against his own.
For a moment Zaabon was too startled to move. Then, reacting instinctively as years of Furiizaa's 'instruction' kicked in, he wrapped one hand around the back of the Saiyan's head, pulling him closer, tongue tasting the unfamiliar heat of the king's mouth, distantly wondering at the strange, almost ticklish sensation of Vejiita's beard against his face.
A strong hard hand slid around his waist, settling in the small of his back and tugging him forward to press against a hard, compact, muscular body, the hips shifting slightly, allowing the alien to feel the king's growing erection. Vejiita broke the kiss for a moment, slid his hand down and inside Zaabon's bodysuit to cup a firm buttock, then nipped at his ear, whispering,
"But I can show you..."
Before the disorientated Zaabon could stop him, he'd tugged the armour over the alien's head, then ripped the bodysuit away from the muscular blue frame before returning his hand to Zaabon's buttock, the other hand reaching between their bodies to fondle his erection. Zaabon groaned, his head falling backwards as the Saiyan trailed sharp little bites along his collarbone: Vejiita manoeuvred him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat abruptly. Smirking, the king pushed him down to lie on his back, seating himself on the edge of the bed.
"He's trained you well, hasn't he?"
Zaabon stared up, speechless as Vejiita gazed down at him, dark eyes half-closed and an enigmatic half-smile on his lips, then looped his fingers through the heavy silver rings piercing the alien's enlarged nipples and pulled. Zaabon winced, gasping, his eyes closing.
"Did he do this to you? To keep you fettered? Stop you from moving too much when he fucks you?"
Zaabon bit his lip. Vejiita pulled harder, stretching the dark blue nubs as the alien whimpered with pain.
"Tell me..." He twisted the rings, and Zaabon yelped, his body arching to relieve the strain on his abused nipples.
"... yes!..."
Vejiita slackened his hold, nodding thoughtfully. Zaabon drew a shaky breath, wondering why the hell he was lying here letting the Saiyan molest him. For fuck's sake, he was far stronger than the damned monkey...
Vejiita smiled down at him and leaned to kiss a nipple, sliding the tip of his tongue through the ring and pulling very gently as his teeth bit lightly at the hardening flesh. And without conscious volition Zaabon's hand went to the Saiyan's head, pulling him closer, strong lean hands sliding down his neck, pushing the dark blue bodysuit from his shoulders and down the hard body.
Reaching back, Vejiita slid one hand under the top of the alien's thigh-length boot and scratched lightly up the inside of his thigh, stopping just short of his balls. Zaabon bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying out - then gasped as the king sucked hard on his nipple, gently twitching the ring with his teeth and tongue as his lips sealed themselves around the sensitive flesh. Vejiita paused and pulled back, smirking at the trembling blue body below him, leaving the alien moaning with frustration.
"You want more?"
Dazed golden eyes gazed up at him, mutely appealing. The king grinned, then dragged off Zaabon's boots and armsheaths, leaving the alien entirely naked. He slid out of his own clothing, shoved Zaabon further up the bed and knelt between strong blue thighs, hands resting lightly, teasingly, against the hollows below the hips, the head of his own erection throbbing against the softer skin between the alien's legs. Breathless with anticipation, Zaabon waited for the Saiyan's next move...
The king reached forwards to play with one of the rings, and ducked his head quickly down to take the other nipple into his mouth, circling the rigid flesh with his tongue and flicking across the tip, then suddenly tugging roughly at the metal with his teeth. Zaabon flinched violently: Vejiita pulled back a little, frowning. The alien's face was contorted, and his hand went to clutch at his chest.
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing..." Zaabon swallowed, his eyes closing. Vejiita glanced down at the trembling hand, eyes widening: dark blue blood was streaming from under the pale blue palm.
Vejiita jerked the hand away and leaned forward to examine the bleeding nipple. Through the welling blood he could just make out what looked like a small but viciously sharp double ended barb attached to the ring, the longer tang pointing inwards, its tip buried in the flesh of the alien's chest: the other had carved open half the nipple itself.
Vejiita snorted - such a tiny injury: what was all the fuss about! But Zaabon was panting, obviously in pain: was he more sensitive there than a Saiyan...?
The king switched his gaze to the other ring. No sign of a barb there - on the outside, anyway. Frowning, he pinched the nipple firmly, ignoring the alien's pained gasp, then nodded to himself. He could feel two similar barbs inside the swollen nub: he must have pulled the other ring around with his teeth somehow, slicing through Zaabon's flesh. He knelt back for a moment, scowling. Typical of Furiizaa. Not content with enslaving the alien, the Ice Lord also made sure any pleasure he received would give him pain as well. Not to mention how the barbs would stab when he was wearing armour...
He sighed silently and lowered his mouth to the wound, lapping carefully at the blood, raised his head, then caressed the other nipple with his tail as a distraction as he swiftly twisted the ring back to its original position. Zaabon whimpered, grabbing at Vejiita's wrists, but the task was finished, the barbs back inside him. Vejiita took the tortured flesh into his mouth, tongue laving the laceration gently, soothingly, for long moments, one hand cupping Zaabon's cheek, the other resting on his shoulder.
He paused as Zaabon ran strong fingers into his upswept mane, and glanced up into the alien's face. Zaabon's expression was - unfamiliar. A mix of startled and grateful? Vejiita kissed the still slowly-bleeding nipple and knelt upright, frowning down into golden eyes. Eyes that were, he realised with some surprise, quite beautiful.
"Better?" His voice was gruff, uncharacteristically embarrassed. If any of the Guard had seen him, actually helping one of Furiizaa's men...
Zaabon blinked. "Th... thank you."
Vejiita nodded brusquely. Zaabon ran cool fingers across his cheek, frowning.
"Why?"
Vejiita shrugged. "No point in making the bastard annoyed with you."
"But I'd have thought..."
What Zaabon might have thought was swept away as the king's mouth descended on his own. A warm hand slid between his thighs, teasing and fondling, caressing his balls, rolling them gently against each other, a fingertip following the course of the big vein up the length of his shaft, stroking the slick smoothness at the tip of his erection. Fingers wrapped around the hard flesh and pulled downwards, sliding back the foreskin, a strong thumb rubbing across the broad blunt head. Zaabon pulled back from the kiss, gasping for breath, body shaking, the pain of the king's weight pressing the barbs more deeply into his nipples almost voluptuous as for the first time in a very long time he found himself being pleasured by another.
Vejiita pulled himself upright, strong hands spreading muscular blue thighs further apart, then paused, letting Zaabon feel the quivering head of his shaft for a moment before thrusting sharply forwards, penetrating quickly and sliding deeply into tight heat. Zaabon whimpered once - then grabbed for the king's shoulders and pulled him down to rest against the powerful blue body, strong arms holding the wide-eyed Saiyan tightly to his chest.
Vejiita grinned and began to move, slowly at first then gathering momentum as Zaabon moaned and wrapped muscular legs around his hips. Unable to suppress a certain satisfaction at being able to reduce Furiizaa's feared lieutenant to a creature of sheer sensation desperate for fulfilment.
It felt good too, he thought, distantly, as he rammed home again and again, coherent thought fading in the mélange of scent and colour and tactile perception that filled his senses as he lay wrapped in Zaabon's arms.
They climaxed together, soundlessly, as if the culmination were too precious to share - even with the silence in which they were enveloped...
Zaabon's head lay heavily on the king's shoulder, one blue hand stroking - weakly, tremblingly - at the smooth bronzed skin of his chest, Vejiita's tail brushing lightly over his hip. The afterglow of making love - which was, Vejiita realised, exactly what they had done - still encompassed them, and they strove to make it last as long as they could, both knowing this could never happen again.
"I won't be able to help him if Furiizaa decides he wants the boy."
Vejiita's eyes closed as he shuddered slightly. "I know that."
"But I'll do what I can to look after him. Within reason."
"That's more than I could ask." It took an effort, but, his teeth gritted, the king gazed down into Zaabon's eyes and forced the words out. "Thank... Thank you."
The alien reached up and gently stroked his cheek, fingers teasing through his beard. "Despite what everyone thinks, I'm not a monster."
"I realise that now."
"But I am still Furiizaa's whore."
Vejiita sighed.
"You deserve better. In other circumstances, I would offer you a place here."
Zaabon laughed shortly, bitterly.
"As your whore?"
"As a member of my guard."
Golden eyes blinked, then smiled. "I - appreciate the thought..."
"...but it's not possible." Vejiita finished for him.
Zaabon pressed a kiss to his throat. "No. It's not possible. Unless the situation changes..."
"... and someone - despatches Furiizaa."
"Which is, of course, impossible."
"To date..."
Zaabon sighed regretfully. The glow was fading, the cold realisation of what he had allowed to happen gradually sinking into his mind, along with the fact that Furiizaa must be missing him by now. If the Ice Lord ever found out what he'd done... If Vejiita ever told him...
He closed his eyes, resigned, and pulled himself upright, emerald hair spilling over Vejiita's chest - the king lowered his eyelids, sighing silently, memorising the cold, silky, sensuous feel of it, the cool alien scent of the beautiful being whose life he now held, who had promised, voluntarily, to do what he could for the young prince. Oh, if only things had been different...
Silently they dressed, watching each other, drinking in the sight of bodies that had become so familiar, so - loved - over the last endless hour. Somehow knowing they'd never meet again.
At least, not in this reality...
Compassion
