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Goku forgot to run a lint roller over his clothes this morning. Dark beads of un-ironed sun-dried ghosts stick to his tank top. The summer cicada symphony ringing in his ears and the thirty minutes of sleep he got last night don’t bode for a good combination. Only Son Goku could lie restlessly awake until dawn next to the most beautiful woman in the world and still end up late to work. His hair is still wet from his hurried shower.
Fortunately—this tiny world of theirs loves him just as much. The wind shifts its path to blow right over his face if only for a moment. Can’t make the favouritism too obvious. The older guys who sell with him at the farmers’ market all have such a soft spot for him, all Goku has to do is smile flushed and bashful as he greets them all by their individual names and pretends to stumble a little under the weight of loaded vegetable crates, and they fuss over him instantly. Forgetting about the fact that no normal man would physically be able to lift a truck’s worth of goods in the first place. They’ll never assume they’re doing business with an imposter and not somebody’s baby.
“Gimme a bit of everything.” Launch stops by at a quarter to noon. Blonde and just as strapped as she was in her twenties. Sometimes years pass between their meetings but Goku will never not feel like he knows her. A pistol hangs from her belt and a huge tote bag hangs off of her arm. “I’m makin’ a feast tonight.”
Goku sheds his jacket, tying it around his waist. If it’s in his destiny to go home with sunburnt arms and shoulders, then so be it. The sweltering sun makes his hairline damp with sweat. “Just for Tien? What a waste. Guy doesn’t really know how to eat, you feel me?” He bags cabbages and green onions for her. He doesn’t know how to appreciate the crazy woman who never gave up on his three-eyed ass is what he really means.
“Who said it’s for Tien?” Launch furrows her brow, reaching for her wallet to finger out what are probably stolen bills. She nods along when Goku bags up five potatoes. “I ain’t thinkin’ about him. Tonight it’s me, my apartment, and some good old fashioned whiskey. I’m just gonna cook my feelings and eat ’em.”
Raising both of his brows, Goku finishes bagging what might be a good portion of his entire harvest. “You’re not scared of being alone with them?” He drops the produce into the bottomless stomach of her ridiculously large tote as he takes her money. He thinks he could get lost inside of that pocket dimension she’s holding, forever trapped inside a leafy spinach head. “What’s it been, thirty or so years you’ve loved him?” That long and the feelings start to take shape in the real flesh and blood world. Launch scowls at him.
“Girl… I’m not scared of nothing. That’s your problem. Sometimes you’ve just gotta leave a man the hell alone. I’m being serious.” She hefts that tote bag full of vegetables over her shoulder like it’s nothing, looking him up and down like he’s still a snot-nosed kid. Actually, she never looks at him like he’s a grown man. There are some people’s minds he’d just stayed small inside of forever. It’s so hot out that if she buys the meat cuts at the next stand over and dunks them in where there’s still room with the vegetables, she might have a fully cooked meal by the time she gets home. Sizzling right through the plastic-wrap.
Goku’s lips tilt into a grin as he fans his face with the real estate brochure some sweet-talking city-slicker left him with about two hours ago. The kid’s been heckling him for weeks. Goku can always sense the lust in that young man’s ogling eyes from miles away, but there’s only one guy he really wants to look at him that way. “Yeah, okay. Ooookay.”
Launch rolls her eyes and scoffs through a mean-spirited laugh at him. He watches her disappear into the crowd, consciously feeling it when she exits the immense void he’s surrounded himself with. Goku loses parts of himself to its jaws; his sense of time, his libido, the button on his jacket collar he just noticed is missing. It’s only when another low voice strokes the shape of his flushed ear that he realizes how tight his scarf is around his neck.
“Three tomatoes and two red onions, please.” Vegeta keeps the exact amount of money he needs for this purchase handy in the breast pocket of his polo. Goku thinks it is kind of cute to have a husband you keep on a leash and give an allowance to. Vegeta’s mouth curdles into a frown. He trips his sunglasses down the long bridge of his nose (yes, he’s wearing sunglasses) and Goku thinks about how it felt to sit on his face last weekend. “Kakarot, I haven’t got all day.”
Goku’s entire body is gummy from the afternoon heatwave. The air is starting to swirl in ripples from how scorching it is. He can feel the walls of his vagina squeeze all the way up to his humid insides just from holding Vegeta’s stare. “Didn’t feel like goin’ to those fancy supermarkets in the suburbs instead?” He reaches for the tomatoes, squeezing them subtly to feel for the ripest ones. His nipples twitch, perking through his tank top. Goku blushes intensely when he feels Vegeta’s eyes on them, hoping he can play it off as heatstroke. His skin itches beneath his scarf.
“Not exactly, no. There’s something malicious about how organized all the chaos is and darkness in the hearts of the individuals who shop there…” Vegeta presses the bills into Goku’s palm and accepts the onions and tomatoes.
Goku tallies up the cash and stuffs it into the register. “Darkness? You got an eye for it? You?”
Vegeta glances down at where that dumb brochure is shoved into one of Goku’s pockets bottom side up, so the realtor’s business casual headshot is showing. The guy’s hair is dirty blonde and slicked back above his harsh blood-red necktie. Blinking three times in a row, Vegeta stalls. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
Goku unfolds the brochure from out of his pocket. “This guy’s been trying to get me to sell him the farmland on Mount Paozu for weeks. They wanna redevelop it or somethin’. Build a bunch of houses or maybe a corporation, I dunno. I tell him to take a hike every time, but he’s a persistent little urchin.” He sniffs. “Cute too, honestly.”
Vegeta narrows his eyes. He grips the wispy loops of the plastic bags until the cellophane crinkles over his knuckles. “He’s still bothering you?”
“You know how city businessmen are.” Goku shrugs. “All they do is pester people and sit in their fancy offices.”
“Do you find all pampered-looking boy-men who work in pointless little shoebox offices cute?” Vegeta grumbles. “I discover something new about you everyday, Kakarot.” He’s actually pouting. Goku’s lips spread into a goofy grin at how Vegeta’s cheeks tint red.
“Cute as in he’s so young he could be my kid, relax,” Goku giggles, stuffing the brochure back into his pocket. He unfurls his scarf from around his neck; it had absorbed so much of his sweat, there’s a ring-shaped no man’s land of dryness wrapped around his throat between the perspiration that’s dripping off his chin and collecting between his collarbones.
“Besides…” Goku feels sore and wet between his thighs the longer Vegeta’s gaze roves his body. Feeling the sensitivity in his breasts. “You know I like my men a little older, Vegeta.” He winks at him goofily. Vegeta just stares at him for a second, and then the corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk. Then a laugh. A bark of a chuckle that makes Goku feel so full in his tank top to where his nipples are still poking through the cotton.
“Kakarot,” Vegeta manages, still laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, “you’re no good. You’re really, really no good. It’s always trouble with you, I’m telling you…” His eyes are so warm and sincere. Goku thinks to himself: Oh the lights are soooooo very on up there in his head. Let me in please, it’s terrible out here. I want to be a wrinkle in his brain or on his collar.
Somewhere in the crowd, Launch sneezes. She can’t remember why she’s heartbroken or why she has a gun. Goku would help her out if he wasn’t too busy laughing himself stupid.
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Chi-Chi’s still not home when Goku gets out of his evening bath, so he takes advantage of the empty house by flopping onto his bed naked. Goten is around Trunks’s—usually Goku will go pick him up, but today Vegeta insisted on dropping him off back home. Goku buries his feet in the pile of clean laundry he still has to fold that sits at the end of his bed. He feels corny admitting even to himself that he likes how involved they are in each other’s private lives. On the nightstand, his cellphone buzzes.
Vegeta texts him: So, do you want me to deal with that impudent brat or what.
Goku stifles a laugh. What are you talking about he writes back.
Vegeta doesn’t make him wait. His reply comes quickly. Biting his lip, Goku sinks back into his pillow and mentally reads the message in Vegeta’s deep voice: That man you had a picture of on the little paper.
Goku snorts. He replies: Yeah no leave the poor kid alone. No more killing people you turned over a new leaf didn’t you?
Vegeta writes: Did I? Perhaps that’s just what you believe…
Goku’s stomach flutters hard at Vegeta’s stupid sense of humour. He licks the inside of his cheek. Okay whatever you say Mr. Mysterious. How’re the boys
The three dots on Vegeta’s end pop up and then go back down. Then they pop up again. His response: Just as aimless as usual. They are going to go blind staring at the television for so long but what am I to do about it.
Goku’s lower abdomen feels warm and he can’t stop smiling. A line of sweat begins to prickle beneath his breasts. He keeps one hand over his navel and not any lower, typing and sending with the other: Right so they’re doing good. Got it man
Good is a stretch. Vegeta’s curt message follows suit almost immediately. Like he knows his attentiveness is just making Goku hornier. What time should I bring your little one home?
The thought of seeing Vegeta’s face in a couple hours or so makes Goku’s pussy wet. He inhales through a whimper, the giddiness opening a chasm in the pits of his fluttering tummy. I dunno, whenever. It’s Friday night so it’s not like he’s gotta be up early tomorrow or anything
Vegeta: I see.
Goku scoops three fingers inside of himself, parting his thighs with a sigh. His vagina keeps squeezing and gaping, like it’s looking for something thicker. Vegeta… did you only wanna drop Goten off when you come over later?
Vegeta intuits Goku’s nasty intentions. I’m not going to fuck you with your whelp in the house, Kakarot.
Goku giggles to himself, pumping his fingers up and down his clit. I don’t wanna do that either. I just wanted to sneak a kiss. Feeling Vegeta’s stubble while they make out is prime jack-off material. Goku’s cunt grows slicker around his own knuckles just imagining it.
Vegeta texts him back: Kakarot.
Goku holds his breath, feeling chastised. Then Vegeta’s second message pops up in a speech-bubbled burst through Goku’s guts.
Are you alone?
Goku types a hurried Yeah and feels his pussy twitch. The moan he was holding back all this time finally hiccups its way out of his wet mouth. He’s already on the cusp of an orgasm when he accepts Vegeta’s incoming call, crushing his cellphone between his cheek and his shoulder as he fingers himself. Exhaling a breathy “Hello?” into the speaker, Goku squeezes his thighs together and shuts his eyes.
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Goku has always been told he’s too good for their world but if he had to actually put a name and face to that title, Too Good for Their World, he’d hand it over to his wife. People have always been inclined to share with him the worst parts of themselves, ever since he was a kid. He doesn’t mind being the shoulder to cry on or the goalpost at the end of redemption’s long winding road, but the heads and people’s projections of him get heavy after a while. His muscles start to ache. The only person who can relieve him of that burden of being one of the greatests is Chi-Chi. This is because she understands that above all, he kind of sucks a little just like everyone else at the end of the day. She’s never put him on a pedestal.
He finds her in their kitchen looking over a cake icing recipe. The actual batter has already been mixed in a bowl and set aside. Chi-Chi only looks up at him for a brief moment before she turns back to her devices. Goku feels a little snubbed just by that short smile, putting his hands in his pockets as he leans on the counter next to her.
“Are you sick of me yet?” he asks. Chi-Chi gives him a silly side-eye, her lips quirking into a smirk. Goku’s heart flutters.
“Surprisingly? No.” She starts scooping the cake batter out of the bowl and into a baking pan. A speck of flour is smudged across her cheek. Goku swipes his thumb over it and licks it off. Chi-Chi levels him a chastising look but she flushes around her eyelids.
“I’m surprised too.” Goku tucks a strand of her hair that fell loose from her tight bun behind her ear. “Putting up with me will probably get you a guaranteed spot in heaven, so look forward to it.”
Chi-Chi rolls her eyes. “That isn’t why I do it.” She holds Goku’s stare even when he starts pouting at her.
“Then why do you do it?” He’s fishing for her affection and she knows it.
“I’ve loved you since we were twelve…”
“That can’t be the only reason.”
“I don’t have a selfish bone in my body, as badly as I wish I did and as much as you deserve me flipping the table on you. I’m just grievously unchanging.” Chi-Chi turns away from him. Her shoulders are flushed.
“I like that you say words like grievously.” Goku circles his arms around her from behind and presses his cheek against hers. She wrinkles her brow.
“‘Grievously’ isn’t a ridiculous word, Goku.” Chi-Chi doesn’t fight his clingy fit.
“Name someone else who says stuff like ‘grievously’. And Piccolo and Vegeta don’t count.” He gives her sash a little tug.
“It’s a common word,” Chi-Chi argues through an airy giggle. “Grievously. Grievous. Grievousness. Grieve. Grief.” One of her dimples creases as she thinks through every iteration of the word.
“Grief-gasm?” Goku bends down to kiss her chin.
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There is nothing that humbles you and your midlife crisis quite like staring at a wall of oversized dildos. Goku feels mortified surveying the rows and columns of hyper-realistic penises, even though all he feels when Vegeta gets his real life cock out in front of him is expectantly woozy. Apparently he’s far from the gold medalist in the sport of being ditzy and dick-brained. He can’t imagine how fucked up your life has to be to try and shove a fake cock that’s the size of his forearm up any of your holes.
Morbidly curious, Goku presses the tip of his index finger to the underside of the sample shaft’s length and twists up his face at the fact that the packaging does not lie—TOUCH ME I FEEL REAL! seems to be a very true statement. Even the silicone veins are shiftable. He finds the realistic skin-coloured ones infinitely more strange than the ones that are colours like hot pink.
“Think you could take that thing?” Bulma barks out a laugh at the horrified look on Goku’s face. He doesn’t even want to know what her and Vegeta get up to in bed if her idea of a birthday present for him (his gag gift, obviously, Goku suspects she also got him something else that’s really nice) is a bag of rainbow dicks from a hole in the wall sex store.
“Yeah, fuck no. Don’t even go there.” Goku snickers at how Chi-Chi grips his arm tighter.
“Bulma, you are a sick woman.” Chi-Chi clutches her imaginary pearls. “I’m so scared right now. Can we leave? I cannot be seen here.” She shades a hand over her face. There’s probably no one that would recognize either of them, considering the fact that they’re mountain hicks who rarely break their hermit’s oath to come into the city. Bulma’s the one who should be worried, but she seems right at home in the penis palace.
Goku turns to Launch for her input, but discovers she’s up at the cash register chopping it up with the shop owner. A woman who can’t be older than thirty-five and has vocal fry so deep it makes her sound sixty, with big poofy cotton candy pink hair. (So definitely an upgrade from Tien.)
Bulma scales the wall of technicolour phalluses, pretending to look very deep in thought. “Imagine you meet this guy. He’s perfect. I’m talking once in a lifetime kinda hot, smells nice, like your dream man…”
Subconsciously Goku’s brain conjures up the image of Vegeta. He blushes hot as soon as the vision takes him down to vividly remembering the smell of his aftershave. His feet drag along the floor. Chi-Chi squeaks when a scaly red dragon dildo of some kind pops out at them around the corner and buries her face in Goku’s shoulder.
“So you finally get to take him home and fuck him, right?” Bulma untucks her hair from where it was in her leather jacket. “Mr. Dreamboat drops his pants and his dick is so fucking ugly. Like it’s so bad. It’s probably not even tiny but it looks like this.”
She flicks her thumb and middle finger at the tip of a long skinny dildo that’s just kind of disheartening to look at. Goku’s fantasy of Vegeta shatters into a million pieces and he squints his eyes, unimpressed with how she hasn’t changed even a little since she was sixteen.
“Don’t yuck someone’s yum, Bulma. Skinny dicks probably feel nice. They’d just… slide right in. No resistance,” Goku argues mildly. In whose defense he isn’t sure because Vegeta’s cock is so thick being stretched out around it makes him dizzy sometimes. Chi-Chi smushes her cheek into his bicep and stares disdainfully at a tentacle dildo that’s moving in a really distressing way.
“Goku, you do not like skinny dicks. Please never insult my intelligence like that ever again,” Bulma blows him off.
Goku raises both of his brows. “How would you know? And don’t say it’s because we’re fucking the same guy.”
“You don’t carry yourself through life like a guy who likes to take fugly narrow pencil dicks,” Bulma says, like this is an extremely simple fact of life. “Period.”
Goku gapes at her. “Excuse me?! And what the hell does that even mean?!” He wasn’t aware he carried himself through life like a guy who liked to take dicks in the first place.
“I don’t know, Goku. Figure it out. I’m not a pussy scholar.” Bulma flips her hair over her shoulder. Chi-Chi blushes and Goku knows it’s because of how coolly Bulma said pussy.
“I’m officially leaving this conversation,” Chi-Chi announces between them, peeling herself off of Goku’s arm. “And this store. Oh my God. Oh my God, we are all going to burn in hell.”
Before she can run away Bulma grabs her by her wrist. Chi-Chi squeals.
“You’re not leaving without at least one new vibrator for that repressed pussy of yours, missy.” Bulma doesn’t make it sound like it’s up for debate. She drags Chi-Chi off to go look at the clit pumps. Goku’s phone buzzes in his pocket with three new texts from Vegeta.
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It’s the little things about Vegeta that make Goku’s heart squeeze sometimes. Watching him get engrossed in reading the newspaper or whistle a commercial jingle while putting a plate of food in the microwave. Goku once saw him giving Scratch’s tail a sweet little pull when he thought he was alone.
“You know, I used to have one of these,” Vegeta told the tiny creature quietly. Goku couldn’t stop smiling to himself for hours.
The inside of Vegeta’s mouth tastes like warm green tea bags. Zero added sugar. Goku gasps into the messy slide of their lips when Vegeta reaches up to drag the neck of his undershirt down, making his tits perk right out over the fabric. Goku’s nipples harden against the cool air conditioned kitchen air. Hardening the roll of his hips, moaning as he pushes his ass back where he’s bent over the counter. The recoil of Vegeta’s pelvis against his ass makes Goku’s pussy flutter around him. A whimper rolls out of Goku’s mouth when Vegeta cups both of his breasts, blushing when he feels them bounce through their friction into his palms. The dimples that sit above Goku’s ass ripple into their lovemaking.
“Stop taking your time with it,” Goku moans, grinding his hips sloppier every time the tip of Vegeta’s cock touches his cervix. His pussy oozes slick and Vegeta’s pre cum alike down the backs of his thighs, all of it mixing with his sweat and catching in the ruched-down waistline of his gi pants. Only Vegeta can make his body smell and taste and ripen like this, reminding him he was never human at all. An intrusive thought takes Goku’s mind; a young Vegeta in his late twenties who still had that tail he misses so much and wore a scouter stands before him, asking him in a sterile sedated voice, And why did you ever think you were human? How could you have deluded yourself for so long? Like they’re at a job interview.
Goku can feel Vegeta’s slow pumps into the centre of him like a stretch in his jaws. The length of Vegeta’s fat cock moving into his guts so deep it spontaneously breaks his heart. I don’t know. I don’t know. I still try not to think about it. I tell myself people aren’t just the blood running through their veins or their DNA but I’m scared I’m wrong about it all.
Goku’s cheeks burn, the flush carrying down to his shoulders. “The boys’re gonna be home soon…” He squeals when another hard thrust pushes him onto his tippy toes, tongue falling out of his mouth. Staring at Bulma’s cupboards as his insides cleave apart for Vegeta’s cock.
“I’ll be done with you before they even get close enough to sense you in here,” Vegeta chuckles in his ear. Goku’s nipples twitch against the thick skin on Vegeta’s fingers at the promise of another climax. Vegeta’s mouth covers his again and Goku moans, smooching him back just as hungrily, the head of Vegeta’s cock still kissing his cervix.
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And here Goku goes again—it’s like he’d never learned his lesson, like he’s never grown from his immature bad decisions, like he isn’t getting too old to be foolish. As soon as the alcohol got into his system all he could feel between his legs was his heartbeat throbbing in his pussy, his slick walls opening and closing, pulsating to the rhythm in his flushed chest. He has his gripes about being an extraterrestrial; Can’t my alienness make me less of a lightweight and cure my imposter syndrome? The wet region in the crotch of his underwear widens. He watches Vegeta twist the cap off a beer with his teeth and feels the walls of his cunt tighten up.
Goku knows better than to get drunk—Bulma still has the video of him stripping down to his boxers and pole dancing on his grandfather’s beloved heirloom after he got blackout about two years ago—but he still doesn’t think twice about downing the rest of his soju, teary-eyed just from the burn of being a bad drinker. He reckons that neither he nor Vegeta ever thought they’d be celebrating Vegeta’s fiftieth birthday getting shitfaced at a bar together back when they were still beating the shit out of each other to a serious magnitude but really, that’s just how life goes. You never know where you’ll end up in twenty years. When you think change is coming it really never is—it sneaks up on you.
“We should sing Happy Birthday!” Bulma’s face lights up like a brand new dictator’s as she says it. It’s her husband’s birthday but she’s sitting next to Chi-Chi instead on their side of the brown leather booth, and somehow Goku ended up sitting across from them sandwiched between Vegeta and Piccolo. Like the women had just shoved all the nuisances in their lives (the men) together without looking back, but Goku actually can’t remember how they arrived at this seating arrangement.
Goku looks to his right. Vegeta looks very tired but really that’s just how he always looks, so Goku is having trouble reading his true feelings about the suggestion.
“Actually we shouldn’t. I’m not doing anything. Don’t start with me—I already have a migraine from being in anyone’s presence past eight p.m.,” Piccolo says rather curtly. His entire outfit is from Goku’s closet, antenna crushed beneath a baseball cap that sits backwards on his head.
“Come on, pleaaaaseee?” Chi-Chi makes puppy eyes at him. When she’s drunk she no longer knows how to be reserved. Goku snorts at how cute she looks when she claps her hands together and begs with her bottom lip jutting out. Her jade bangles tinkle together along her wrists, different shades of green organized from lightest to darkest all the way down. Every paycheque Goku still buys her a new pair to add to her collection.
“Well why don’t we ask the birthday boy?” Goku’s smile widens and he has to fight all of his facial muscles not to laugh at how Vegeta clams up. “You don’t want these pretty ladies to sing for you, Vegeta?”
“Surely you don’t mean to use guilt-tripping as a means of diplomacy here…” Vegeta sucks on the rim of his beer. He has a faraway look on his face.
“You both owe these women a mountain of debts, alright, so the way I see it you should throw yourselves into obliging their whims,” Piccolo infers. He smirks at Vegeta’s raised brows. “Not me, though. I’m innocent.”
“And that doesn’t sound like a hostile way of phrasing things to you?” Vegeta retorts. They’re going back and forth on either sides of Goku and his moon-eyed face that’s stuck in a dopey grin. Piccolo taps a fingernail next to a sticky spot on the table from where Goku spilt the dish of plum sauce that came with the dumplings.
“Not at all. I think I’m being assertive at worst—at the best transparent and honest…”
Bulma whistles at the same time Vegeta dissolves into a fit of chuckles and puts his face in a palm. “That’s right. Piccolo’s a real-deal woman-respecter. None of that performative shit. You guys get the hell out.”
Piccolo crosses his arms over his chest. “Thank you, thank you. You know what? I actually really appreciate that, Bulma.”
Goku puts his hands up in capitulation. “Okay, you got us. Me and Vegeta’ll fuck off and then everyone will be doomed forever.”
Vegeta nods solemnly next to him, but he’s still laughing under his breath. “We’ll commit a double-suicide together. It’ll all be very romantic.”
Chi-Chi’s taking a very large gulp of her drink when Krillin finally walks up to their table. Upon arrival he immediately grasps their drunken order and assumes his seat on the sticky male side of the booth next to Piccolo, preserving Bulma and Chi-Chi’s matriarchy in full. He accepts the fist bump Goku offers him over Piccolo’s lap.
“About fucking time, man.” Goku knocks his knuckles against Krillin’s and examines the blue smiley faces that are lining Krillin’s ankle socks, which don’t match the rest of his grown man beige slacked appearance.
“Sorry. You know I’ve got time blindness when 18’s out of town.” Krillin cracks his neck. His wife and daughter had gone up to visit 17 in the middle of buttfuck nowhere or wherever he lives, if Goku is remembering properly. Both about 18 and 17’s jungle living situation. “Happy Birthday, Vegeta.”
Vegeta grunts, sounding three percent more friendly than usual. He puts three gyozas in his mouth. “It still feels strange having people say that to me all day. What’s there to celebrate on this planet about getting a year older? I don’t get it.” He licks the grease off his fingers. Goku eyes him down. Some guy walking by their table looks at Vegeta like he’s crazy for saying this planet.
Bulma doesn’t indulge his existentialism. “Yeah well you missed our awesome fucking orgy, Krillin,” she boasts, putting her legs up over Chi-Chi’s lap. Her jeans dig into her inner thighs. “Shit was psychedelic.”
“Mmmmhmmm it’s true. Piccolo got all the action,” Chi-Chi says very seriously as she catches Bulma’s feet, impressively managing not to crack even when Goku tilts his head and grins at her like Really?
“You snooze you lose,” Piccolo cautions gravely, and with the conviction of a man who’s just very narrowly escaped a terrible lay at that.
“Early bird gets the worm,” Krillin doubles him. “Vegeta’s a category zero prude so I’m honestly more impressed than anything.” He picks up the menu, unphased by their bullshit. Which is why he’s the strongest human on Earth.
“No comment. On any of this. I was never even here,” Vegeta mutters next to Goku. The dramatic gasp Goku puts a considerable amount of his chest into comes out wetter than he’d expected it to.
“Wait a second, Krillin, best buddy, are you implying that I’m easy?” Goku acts very offended by this conclusion. The soju simmers him up to his tingling scalp.
Krillin picks a nacho out of the communal tray and accepts the half-downed canned beer Bulma slides him across the table. “I mean, dude, if the shoe fits, wear it.”
Bulma hyena-cackles, picking at the grilled salmon her and Chi-Chi are sharing. “That’s right, Goku. You heard the man. Strut around in it, baby.”
“These are false allegations, I tell ya,” Goku balks, taking a bite out of the burger he’d forgotten he’d ordered. No wonder he’s been getting drunk so fast. “You’re trying to ruin my reputation. It’s propaganda for the masses.” If he’s not thinking about the food that’s right in front of him he really must be arrestingly horny.
“So you wouldn’t participate in the hypothetical slut circus?” Vegeta jokes, looking deeply into Goku’s face and smirking with his lips parted to reveal too many teeth for him to be sober. Goku’s heart flutters and aches.
“No way. I think I’m gonna go celibate, actually,” Goku sniffs, vision misty. He allows himself to inhale Vegeta’s cologne, hating how that subtle masculine scent makes his insides squirm.
Vegeta’s lips spread further into a handsome crooked smile. “Oh? What’s the occasion? Who hurt you that badly?” The veins protruding from his forearm and the back of his hand ripple when he crushes the beer bottle cap in his palm. Goku can feel every last drop of alcohol that he drank pooling in his vagina. Somehow Vegeta’s breath still smells so fucking good.
“Rein it in,” Chi-Chi comes to Goku’s rescue, dipping two fingers in her drink and flicking martini bullets at Vegeta’s face. “Put your dick back in your pants, Mister Prince of All Saiyans.”
Vegeta laughs again and the sound makes a wellspring of lust burst inside of Goku’s pussy. Goku chews on his bottom lip, feeling his nipples rubbing into his shirt, hardening through the fabric.
“I’m gonna go sober up for a sec before they pull me over on the Nimbus.” Goku feels so seized by the intensity of his emotions, quintupled by the potency of all five of his senses, he’s already planned his escape route to the terrace. Because Bulma only takes them to fancy clubs that have fucking terraces. He pops open the top three buttons of his shirt as he stands up, choosing to climb over Piccolo and Krillin’s legs instead of just Vegeta’s to get out of the booth. Heat shoots down Goku’s spine when he senses Vegeta’s gaze on his backside. “Back in a jiffy.”
“Don’t throw up,” Bulma calls after him. “I’m serious! Throwing up means surrender! You’re losing the long game! You’re not allowed to pee, either!”
As fate would have it Goku doesn’t end up vomiting. He never does. He soaks up alcohol like a sponge and it either makes him pass out or get dismally horny. Feeling more vulnerable is a guarantee though. Either way, his head stops spinning when the nighttime breeze hits him in the face as he looks down at the glittering ocean of city infrastructure. The bed of his tongue is filmy with heartburn. His face is so hot, he’s suddenly self-conscious about how round his cheeks are. Insecure that he’d never lost all of the baby fat. Goku is cupping his face and pouting at the ground when Vegeta raps his knuckles on the balcony next to him.
“Are you still alive, Kakarot?” Vegeta leans into his space when Goku tilts his flushed face away from him. “I don’t smell puke.”
“I know how to pace myself, thank you very much,” Goku grumbles. He turns back to squint at the teasing expression on Vegeta’s face. Goku’s sweaty bangs curl away from his forehead. He only notices his own cleavage when he catches Vegeta’s eyes dropping to rake over his chest at five second intervals. “Vegeta… let me ask you a question since you look so happy to be in my presence.”
“I drank the useless walls I always put up away. Are you going to sue me?” Vegeta leans an elbow on the balcony. He’s so smiley tonight. Probably drank his filter away too.
“It’s your fiftieth birthday…” Goku puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans and feels the cold buckle of his belt kiss the bottom of his stomach. Everywhere beneath his navel tingles. “How do you feel? Are you ecstatic that you still look the same in the mirror? Do you still think it’s stupid to be optimistic?”
Vegeta slow-blinks at him. His eyes are so dark they’re almost endless. “That was three questions.”
“Smartass! Jackass!” Goku could go on.
“Do you think you’re stupid?” Vegeta levels him instead. The left side of his collar is popped. Goku moves in closer to fix it for him, flattening it across his shoulder and feeling the muscle tense beneath his fingers. The way Vegeta’s hard body flexes feels deliberate. Like Goku’s just walked into a trap Vegeta set for him.
“Sometimes I do.” Goku feels strangely embarrassed as he admits it. “I’m scared that I just might be.” He lets his hand drop to Vegeta’s bicep. I never used to be before.
Goku thinks he feels so depressed lately because he’s in his forties and he only recently found out he’s got his daddy’s entire face. Vegeta wouldn’t know how it is—he doesn’t allow himself to feel much of anything until he’s forced to, left with nowhere to run after he’s bottled it all up.
“You know what? Why would you care about what other people think of you and your ideals?” Vegeta scoffs, scratching at his chin.
The warmth in Goku’s stomach multiplies vicariously. “I do care though. A lot. I want you to respect me.”
Vegeta inhales. “Kakarot…” A sniffling breath follows the syllables of Goku’s other name; a reminder that Vegeta also has soft internal organs. “Well. Don’t. Simply don’t. I’m an unworthy bastard.” He doesn’t bother with reassurance because when does he ever put himself through the labour of being sensitive? Only when there’s a loaded gun to his head.
Goku licks at the side of his mouth. “Why not?”
“You’ve saved the universe how many times? More times than the guys whose job that actually is…” Vegeta clicks his tongue. Goku giggles, curling his toes into his sandals.
“Careful. They’ll hear you.” He gestures vaguely up to the sky where all the deadbeat gods they’ve personally met reside. They’re supposed to be omniscient but Goku has the premonition that they’re too lazy to clock into their full-time shift of all-seeingness.
“Let them hear me. I don’t give a damn.” Vegeta’s eyes widen like he’s been caught off-guard when Goku cups his face and tilts his head up. As if he didn’t expect Goku to pounce him when he’s being so sweet (by his emotionally constipated standards). Still, he finds his footing easily. Hands coming up to hold Goku’s hips, squeezing him in just the right way. They share a breath, volleying the condensation between each other’s mouths. Goku badly wishes for Vegeta’s attention to be purposefully intimate, but he knows Vegeta is intense this way with everyone he finds worthy of his time.
Don’t think about him being inside of you when you haven’t even had a proper dinner yet. Goku shivers when Vegeta’s tongue slides over his. Slow and with intention. Between his thighs, Goku feels his clit throb hard. The way it only does when his inhibitions are gaining on him again. Vegeta gropes palmfuls of his ass and Goku opens his mouth in a fluid moan. Sighing when Vegeta scrapes his tongue along Goku’s teeth; it all quickly becomes real. They’ve given power to whatever is buzzing between them.
“Vegeta…” Goku plays with the collar of Vegeta’s shirt. “Let’s get outta here.”
“No. On so many levels, no.” Vegeta snickers against Goku’s wet mouth, sucking on Goku’s cupid’s bow. “Everyone thinks you’re so selfless but really you’re an awful friend, aren’t you?”
Goku whines. He’s soaked between his legs and his heart is full. “I want it,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut when Vegeta licks at the saliva lining his top lip. Knowingly, he’d left the you out of the equation. At the moment saying I want you would be like giving Vegeta a piece of himself he feels too naked to part with. Like letting Vegeta slice him open and drink his blood through a straw.
“Enough to let them rub it in our faces tomorrow morning when we leave together?” Vegeta squeezes Goku’s ass and smirks. “I think not. They already jeered at me for coming out to look for you.”
“Are you ashamed of liking me?” Goku’s lips spread into a ditzy grin. He doesn’t really mean it, he just feels like being a brat. Vegeta inhales sharply and shakes his head.
“Don’t start with these mind games of yours, please.”
“We don’t have to leave together…” Goku actually cannot believe he’s scheming on this. He’s thinking with his pussy and it’s saying ONWARD, HO!
“You,” Vegeta starts, poking Goku in the hip, “are very intoxicated.”
“Are you any less intoxicated?” The giggles that bubble up Goku’s throat make the walls of his vagina clench. He’s so much, scattered all over the place. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about the morality of dicking me down when I’m drunk. Seriously don’t tell me that, you’ll have to get out of my face.”
Vegeta makes a show out of taking his hands off of him. “You go in first.” His willful smirk doesn’t waver even when Goku makes his big sad eyes at him. He just laughs. And Goku knows he won’t move until he turns his back on him.
Goku opens the door to the stairwell. The spiralling staircase looks like a gaping mouth, a very complicated esophagus belonging to a strange creature, a wormhole, a portal to another dimension where they’re together in a real way. “Vegeta. Do you hate me?” He wonders it out loud.
Vegeta’s breath hitches behind him. “Don’t you think you’d know if I did, Kakarot?”
“I don’t know.” Goku turns to smile at him, feeling as obvious as roadkill in the summer. “I never know, Vegeta.”
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🥟
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Still hungover, Goku ghosts through the motions of his day. Last night he’d drunkenly dreamt of breastfeeding a dark-haired baby. Pure black but red-brown when the sun hit the crown of its tiny head right. A fresh baby still untainted by the essence of being alive, whom Goku didn’t know in the slightest. It wasn’t either of his kids. There was the slight latch of smooth baby gums around his nipple but it didn’t hurt even slightly. It felt as if it was only natural. He sat there in an open field with his gi sagging open around his breasts, holding that unknown child. Goku kept running his fingers through his baby’s hair, making a parting across its soft scalp. Admiring how the sweet bundle looked like if a pile of dough grew limbs and eyes.
It should be easy to categorize this flavour of insanity—he’s probably just ovulating—but Goku feels like it’s deeper than that. His fingers curl into the fresh earth as he uproots a cabbage head. He blushes when he realizes that it most likely has something to do with the nonsensical train of thought that possessed him to stop taking his birth control. He doesn’t menstruate often on account of everything he’s put his body through anyway, but when he does wake up to blood in his boxers it almost feels like a slap in the face. With certainty, he is not pregnant. Goku is realistic enough to recognize that it doesn’t matter how many nuts Vegeta busts inside of him; conceiving a baby in his womb is incredibly unlikely. Ultra Instinct probably made him infertile.
Goku sits on the grass and rubs soft circles over his belly. The fluttery warmth in his insides never left him. A good night’s sleep didn’t exorcise him of being so needy it was making him sad. Sweat drips into his belly button and his stomach tenses when he thinks about Vegeta’s mouth. His nipples are still so sensitive. This morning Goku spent fifteen minutes staring down at them in bed. He sighs and brushes the dirt off his grass-stained butt as he stands up.
Going home to a vacant house doesn’t ease Goku’s instability. Chi-Chi wanted to visit her father and Goten’s off on a school field trip he initially hid the permission form for. Goku had to dig it out of his schoolbag and ask him why he didn’t show it to them, and Goten just lowered his eyes because he obviously didn’t want to say something like I didn’t know if we could afford it, dad. Chi-Chi chewed their son out for it—Where did you learn to act like you’re poor when you’ve got everything you need, young man?—but when Goku instantly gave Goten the money and then a hefty extra sum to spend in the city, she decided it was his turn to get yelled at. Decidedly, Goku wouldn’t have it any other way.
Gohan is another story entirely. Often Goku thinks about how much Gohan cried as a baby, and then as a toddler. He was so pampered, it was easy for him to cry. And then one day he just stopped. No longer had it in him or remembered how to after getting punched in the teeth so many times, more like. The boy Goku knew for those first four years of paradise died a long time ago. Goku would have held him a little longer through his last temper tantrum if he knew it was going to come to an end so abruptly. My baby, Goku would still call Gohan if he wasn’t aware there are certain things you can’t call your son once he’s a grown man with a child of his own. He’s my baby. It all hurts so much.
Goku opens his texts with Vegeta. (He needs to cope somehow.)
At one p.m., Vegeta had written, under the picture Goku sent him of his ass the previous day (the lack of response is because they’d had phone sex right after): Why do you let me have consistent access to you? Your lack of self-respect is starting to concern me.
Goku had written back: Do you think I should only fuck guys who worship me or something? Lol
Vegeta: Not interested in that? Too heavy of a commitment? Would it bore you?
Goku’s pussy was wet at this point in the conversation. Nah I just don’t know who I’d ask he’d texted back. Then he’d added Seems like a lot of work.
Vegeta, 1:16pm on the dot: Ask me.
Goku left him hanging on read here. He couldn’t work if he allowed himself to process those two words. But now that he’s got a free evening to dedicate himself to the tomfoolery, he presses the call button next to Vegeta’s contact. Vegeta picks up on the second ring. It’s very attractive how desperate he is. Goku’s void shudders, opening its maw wide for Vegeta’s energy.
“Yes?” Vegeta’s voice sounds so delicious Goku wants to eat it.
“I’m kind of scared, I won’t lie,” Goku tells him, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. “What if I can’t pay you back?” What if you devour me and I just let you? What if being stagnant starts to feel good?
Vegeta hesitates. They bake in the lived in silence. It isn’t awkward.
“Why are you scared?” Vegeta seems to connect that it’s their most recent text conversation Goku is referencing. Goku shuts the tap off.
“I’m not invincible. Constantly worrying about how many people I couldn’t save every time I’m about to go to sleep ended up burning me out some way or another. Twenty years or so ago it even made me kill myself.” Goku twists the bathroom doorknob open and walks out naked. “What I’m saying is I probably can’t offer you much in return.” So much of his emotional capacity died with him after Cell and never came back. Being on your third life is actually exhausting.
“Who says I want anything in return?” Vegeta sounds like he’s laughing. Goku sees right through him—Vegeta always wants something in return. He’s a greedy man. Goku’s clitoris appreciates the fact that Vegeta makes it a challenge to give him as many orgasms as physically possible whenever they hook up, but Goku’s soul registers the spiritual tear of Vegeta entering and exiting him as potentially dangerous. So dangerous that Goku often catches himself wondering things about Vegeta like Did he love his mother? Which one of his parents is he an exact carbon copy of?
Goku says into the phone, sprawling out on his bed, “You’re a textbook example of a ‘man who wants something in return’ though.” He spreads his legs open wider. Can’t stop himself from sounding pouty as he says it. His chest rises and falls with how he’s panting.
“I am not. I really, really am not. I’ve never even thought about it. Little old me?” Vegeta gets funny when he knows Goku’s about to let him near his pussy. He absorbs himself into Goku’s sadness through the screen, pretending to understand. Goku’s eardrums melt around the sound of Vegeta’s voice.
“Guess I was overthinking it.” Goku invites Vegeta into his pity party. His pussy is too ready for him to only ask for a dick pic.
Twenty-eight minutes later, Vegeta delivers himself to Goku’s doorstep. Goku left the front door unlocked like a teenager sneaking in a booty call. He swings it open to Vegeta’s unfriendly face but very sincere eyes. Goku’s only wearing a pair of boxers and a tank top but he even regrets that. He already wants to be as naked as he feels under Vegeta’s gaze. The ceiling fan’s whir converses with Goku’s animal thoughts. He wants to die for being so fucking horny all the time.
The stony expression on Vegeta’s face melts into a cocky smile when Goku grabs him by the wrist and pulls him inside. Inside of the house and inside of Goku’s proportions for bad decisions. Somehow Vegeta remembers to step out of his shoes through all the kisses Goku is piling atop of his mouth, chuckling when Goku cups his face. Vegeta looks right through Goku’s crazy—Goku envies his ease. Right away Goku can tell: wherever Vegeta goes in the universe, he is no one but himself. Goku hopes some of that shamelessness rubs off on him through their intercourse. It’s all he can ask for.
Vegeta shuts the door behind them.
Goku’s back hits the sofa; a crumpled receipt crinkles between the cushions; when he looks up Vegeta is offering him a grin that says And there he is! Goku sucks on his bottom lip, parting his thighs. Letting Vegeta crawl between them.
“Are you hungry?” Vegeta asks this question as he nips on Goku’s neck, already dropping his belt. The sound of the buckle clinking swoops Goku’s insides warmly. “We could get something to eat first.”
“I’m not in the mood to fuck on a full stomach today,” Goku murmurs, hands curling into loose fists at the sides of his head when he watches Vegeta’s erect cock rise from his zipped-open fly. Not that this guy could go anywhere in public with a hard-on like that. The hell?
Vegeta takes him by the chin. “An oddity for you.” He’s intrigued by Goku’s inexplicable devastation.
Goku curls his bottom lip, his eyelids burning with a flush. “Don’t read into it.” He reaches a hand down between their bodies, pushing the crotch of his boxers to the side. “Hurry up, please?”
“This is what you want?” Vegeta pumps two fingers slowly up and down Goku’s clit, circling them at the top to push the hood back. Goku takes a shaky breath out.
“This’s what you came for.” Goku makes his openness known with a closed-lipped smile of cynical surrender. Vegeta’s face contorts: he’s conflicted because against all of his principles, he does love it when Goku makes himself easy prey. It repulses him just as much.
Vegeta kisses him sharply but that’s all he does to protest Goku’s accusation. He inhales deeply, pulling Goku into his seriousness. Vegeta’s lips slide off of Goku’s just to brush over them again, seeking further permission. Goku looks up into his eyes, wanting Vegeta to assure him that this isn’t going to hurt later. And Vegeta only squeezes Goku’s hips, saying nothing. His breath is minty and warm. His intense eyes penetrate Goku’s flushed face, piercing through his skull. Goku feels the power of that gaze around his nipples, Vegeta’s rigid intentions plummeting down into the pits of his stomach.
“Vegeta…” Goku trails off, wrapping his legs around Vegeta’s waist. Kissing Vegeta back, eyes fluttering shut when Vegeta’s tongue grazes into his mouth. Feeling his chest rise and fall against Vegeta’s as Vegeta’s fingers sink in and out of him. “What if I ate you alive?”
“You? Sweet thing like you, eat me alive?” Vegeta stretches Goku’s aching cunt apart on two of his thick fingers and Goku thinks he wails. Can’t hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. A crashing wave of euphoria rips Goku’s psyche in half. The way it always does when he
lets a man—lets Vegeta—inside of him
the collision breaking him and remaking him around the jagged edges of Vegeta’s ego. Parts of Vegeta’s essence always get leftover in the sticky warmth of Goku’s inner walls. Goku becomes zero point five percent Vegeta every time they have sex. Vegeta leaks from Goku’s eyeballs with all of his tears, escapes him from the sweat leaving Goku’s pores.
Their kissing is infinite. Goku helps Vegeta out of his button-down and undershirt—they’re kissing through it. Goku’s toes curling when Vegeta rolls the hem of his tank top up over his chest—still kissing. Never stopped. Vegeta’s house keys jingle in his pocket as he sucks on the side of Goku’s neck, and Goku rolls his ankle with a moan. Where they connect, there’s the sensation of their sticky mouths on each other or somewhere else upon their bodies. Deflating into the couch’s sigh, Goku grazes his teeth over Vegeta’s bicep. He hears his pulse in his ears when he feels the warm slide of Vegeta’s erection between his slick folds.
Goku gasps wetly when Vegeta’s palm lands on his breast; feeling him up, Goku’s pink nipple perking as it rubs against Vegeta’s callouses. Vegeta’s nostrils flare as he teases the tip along the swell of Goku’s clit. Goku’s pussy pulsates hot and wet until it hurts. He dies when Vegeta enters him just a little. Breaching him by the slightest margin. A moan like one you’d release while dying violently escapes Goku’s parted lips and rattles the hands of the analog wall clock, the old ghosts of all his regrets. Past versions of himself that he still hates living in his discarded socks on the far edge of the carpet. He hooks a leg up over Vegeta’s hip, looking up into his eyes beneath his lashes.
“I didn’t come just for this,” Vegeta rasps. His deep, warm breathing births sharp spasms inside of Goku’s vagina. Vegeta has him parted wide open. “I wouldn’t come just for this.” Who is he trying to justify himself to?
Goku’s insides ache already. “I don’t believe you,” he laughs, tilting his hips for him to move, and Vegeta swoops in to kiss him again.
Vegeta doesn’t waste any more time. Goku closes his eyes as Vegeta presses all of his cock in inch by inch. Trying not to cum before they actually work into a rhythm is so difficult. His pussy stretches around Vegeta’s thickness and it stings but Goku is at the intersection of his starving libido where any and all sensation feed the pathway to his orgasm. Vegeta’s fingers slide over Goku’s clit as he penetrates him. Goku’s nipples already feel so tender. Gaining and losing weight have always been neutral circumstances to him—as a fighter his mass fluctuates periodically and he can’t understand the obsession with it that lingers in society—but as he’s filled, Goku conceives the thought that he wouldn’t mind getting fat with Vegeta’s baby.
A low moan ruptures Vegeta’s breathing when he bottoms out, like he’s finally quenched a forty-day thirst. The noise carries through the chambers of Goku’s body and exits his mouth in a high-pitched echo. Goku’s back arches with the fullness, the grind of Vegeta’s cockhead against his squirmy cervix. Vegeta’s heaviness overwhelms Goku’s core and on impact, Goku climaxes around the base of him. He can sense it as he cums—it destroys Vegeta a little too.
“Well, believe me,” Vegeta whispers, rocking into him slow and deep, joining their bodies too intimately for it to just be fucking. He lowers his hips right into Goku’s. His entire body is scorching hot. Vegeta always runs as warm as a furnace. His strokes get deeper in Goku’s guts this way, fucking Goku so fluidly he doesn’t even need to touch his clit to make Goku scream.
“I can’t. I really can’t,” Goku breathes, tears stabbing at the outer corners of his eyes. He can’t tell if he’s carrying on with their conversation or babbling in visceral response to those long thrusts inside of him, his pussy so soaked their sex is audible. Wet between their bodies. Squirt dripping off Vegeta’s abs. Filthy. Perfect. Who needs romance?
Goku’s head rolls back and he digs his fingernails into Vegeta’s back. A sigh sizzles past Vegeta’s clenched teeth as he drags himself out to his tip, his cock dripping wet with Goku’s slick. With how good Goku feels around him. Goku chases Vegeta’s hips, taking more of him back inside. And Vegeta is such a pushover, he lets Goku have all of him. Moving into him faster, deeper, the tip of Vegeta’s cock bashing Goku’s cervix each time. Blushing, Goku only becomes aware of how sensitive his breasts are when they bounce just so to the smack of Vegeta’s hips against the softness of his ass. Nipples growing more erect and sensitive each time Vegeta buries himself to the hilt, the pleasure carrying up to their swollen buds.
When Vegeta wants to prove a point he makes love like he’s trying to get through Goku’s malleable body and into the mattress, the bedframe, the floorboards, all the way down to the Earth’s core. As far as gravity will take him if he allows himself to fall, sinking into Goku’s squeezing insides and making Goku moan his name over and over again. Right now the sofa just creaks under their ruckus and slides against the wall. Vegeta hikes the hems of Goku’s boxers all the way up to his hips so his ass pops out and squeezes his thighs. The thick curve of Vegeta’s cock moves so thoroughly through him, Goku feels the head of him pushing on the entrance to his womb. That dream baby’s chubby face burns the backs of Goku’s eyelids.
Goku’s inner walls clamp and the squelching sound of it, the noise his ruined pussy makes and the deepness of Vegeta’s cock stretching his insides, it sifts another simple orgasm out of him. His cunt throbs and seizes and slobbers, his clit pulsing into the angle Vegeta’s hilt is tilted into him at.
“Vegeta…” Goku cries when he feels Vegeta’s back and arm muscles tightening, tensing, tendons flexing. He squeezes Vegeta between his legs like he never wants to let him free, opening his mouth to be kissed when Vegeta pounds him through his climax with deep strokes he doesn’t pull out all the way for. Goku’s hands circle the back of Vegeta’s corded neck. Vegeta licks into his mouth, thrusting hard and finishing deep inside of him. Submerged in the ecstasy of being cummed in, Goku’s ears and cunt pulse as those thick spurts of semen paint his insides white. He thinks about telling Vegeta he hasn’t been on his pill for months now.
Vegeta sucks on Goku’s bottom lip. “Not too shabby?”
Goku’s panting but he still wants to keep kissing. “Don’t pull out of me until you get soft.” He makes it sound like an order. Vegeta kisses the corner of his lips, gently wiping the drool from Goku’s mouth with the pad of his thumb in answer.
Goku stares up at him, forgetting to blink. He can feel Vegeta’s seed sitting inside of him like a warm weight in the bottom of his fluttering stomach. His heart fractures when streams of it dribble out of his raw pussy. “Did you mean it?” All of it? The question tastes like handsoap in his mouth. Bitter bubbles foaming underneath his tongue.
Vegeta doesn’t make Goku go through the humiliation ritual of specifying. Sentimental reconnaissance is already so excruciating, Vegeta knows this best. He squeezes the plush of Goku’s ass and puts his lips to Goku’s flushed ear. “Every single word.”
Goku must have never grown out of his childhood naivete. Because he believes him.
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🍑
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The smell of Vegeta’s cologne lingers in Goku’s hair. Mount Paozu is full of ghosts, their many pairs of eyes congregating to witness Goku’s spiral. Watching the boy they’d raised let a man like Vegeta into his home. When Goku dragged Vegeta up to his bed and slammed the door shut, they followed their trail of vigorous desire upstairs to fog up the bedroom windows with their ragged breathing. Their long ghost tongues rattling the panes. The sheets rustle beneath Goku’s knees.
You wasted no time sinking your teeth into that man, Goku. Goku hears his dead grandfather’s voice and buries his face into the pillow. Releasing a silent scream at the state of his life. Laying on his stomach, Vegeta between his thighs, fucking him slow from the back. Vegeta inside of him.
“What is it with you today?” Vegeta pulls his mouth off the back of Goku’s neck, pressing his lips to Goku’s wet cheek. Goku trembles underneath him, raising his ass, slumping forwards a little to deepen the arch of his back. Vegeta’s strokes travel up the vertebrae that compose his spine.
“Is my moping making this less enjoyable for you?” Goku shoots it back a little too sharply. He shuts his eyes with a moan when Vegeta kisses him slowly on the mouth, his pussy fluttering at how Vegeta grips his hips. Goku’s ass jiggles every time Vegeta’s hips land against his oversensitive body, Vegeta’s name passing through the phlegm in his throat in a snotty sob.
“Is it so hard for you to imagine me being concerned for your wellbeing?” Vegeta murmurs it through kisses down Goku’s jawline. He drops one of his hands down between Goku’s sticky thighs, two fingers pressed to Goku’s puffy clit. Goku’s so slippery, dripping onto the sheets, he’s swallowing Vegeta’s cock whole. He can feel Vegeta’s cock sliding in and out of his cunt, and right at Vegeta’s fingertips too. A whimper puckers Goku’s wet lips.
“Yeah it is. Why do you care? Does it feel like you’re fucking a corpse? Not warm enough inside of me for you?” Goku asks, sniffling through another wheezy sob. The squirmy muscles of his pelvic floor squeeze and clamp together warmly when Vegeta gets all the way inside of him, that heavy tip crushing Goku’s cervix. Vegeta rotates the hand he has between Goku’s legs to press the hard heel of his palm into Goku’s dripping clit, making Goku squeal and curve his spine inwards.
“What kind of monster do you think I am?” Vegeta gets all up in his face. Hovering his mouth over Goku’s. Goku pants into the rhythmic push of Vegeta’s hips, those steady pumps inside of him. He blushes at the sloppy squeeze of his stuffed pussy.
Vegeta stops drawing out of Goku’s body entirely. Just presses these hard circles against the fat of Goku’s ass, into Goku’s stretched cunt. Goku’s toes pop when they curl, his ass moving to the motion of Vegeta’s hips. He feels too embarrassed to tell Vegeta that he thinks eventually, Vegeta’s consistent badness might have warped itself into a sexual neurosis in Goku’s mind. All those years back when Vegeta had wanted to turn the Earth into a graveyard of space dust, and Goku still masturbated to that cruel look on his face—Monster Vegeta specifically. He isn’t that man anymore. Goku pants against Vegeta’s lips, feeling guilty about projecting onto a man who’d changed for the better. For the family he’d built. Why not for me?
Goku looks away to press his nose back into the pillow. Vegeta sighs, taking the lobe of Goku’s ear between his teeth. His lazy deep circles work up to hard determinated thrusts, like Goku’s insides are bottomless. All while stroking Goku’s clit in condensed, calculated swirls. Goku whines and wags his ass up higher in the air, his pussy squirting all over Vegeta’s cock. So much so that he can feel it dripping down his thighs, his face turning dewy pink. Vegeta’s hands slide up Goku’s belly to squeeze his tits until they spill between his fingers, and Goku thinks he starts crying. Inconsolably. His nipples turn puffy pink where Vegeta rubs at them, Vegeta’s pelvis bouncing off of his ass. The headboard hits the wall.
When Vegeta cums he holds himself inside of Goku’s pussy. The girth of his cock jerks and swells as he spills inside of him, Goku’s walls clenching and tightening up for every last drop. The scalding sensation of Vegeta’s thick semen spurting into the deepest reaches of him tips Goku over the edge and he rides his out too, his cunt ultra velvet wet and soft around Vegeta’s shaft, butchering Vegeta’s name again between the sobs.
Goku’s cheeks are still cherry red when Vegeta pulls him up into his lap. He bites his lip as he sits all the way down on Vegeta’s twitching erection, flutters bursting in his stomach. Goku winds his arms around Vegeta’s neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He despises himself for attaching feelings to their sex. Vegeta kisses the inside of his elbow.
“Don’t apologize to me of all people,” he says quietly. Massaging Goku’s lower back as he snags him closer, closing his mouth around one of Goku’s nipples. Goku moans and throws his head back, bouncing slowly on Vegeta’s cock. His tits perk into Vegeta’s face. Vegeta buries himself further between their softness with a carnal groan. Goku’s heart flutters at the way his breasts tingle. He’s acutely aware of how Vegeta’s semen is pooling in his womb, making him clamp his thighs around Vegeta’s hips.
“How was your bag of dildos?” Goku laughs as he asks the question. He needs to summon unseriousness back into their atmosphere before he drowns in how bad he wants it. Vegeta gives him a disgruntled look, still sucking on his nipple. Goku has the thought that he wishes he could breastfeed him and he flushes from his forehead down to his breasts.
“Did you play some part in that charade?” Vegeta pops off wetly. Goku mourns the warmth, his nipple shimmery with spit, swollen with the bud erect.
“I’d love to take credit for it but it was all Bulma’s brilliant idea.” A little jealously, Goku thinks, She’s the one who turned you into the kinda guy who secretly finds shit like that funny. Vegeta squeezes Goku’s ass, intuiting Goku’s insecurity. His thumbs digging into Goku’s lower back dimples.
“Is that the case.”
“Did you enjoy ’em?”
“Kakarot…” Vegeta’s mouth spreads jaggedly into a sharp-toothed grin. Goku’s insides flutter and he blushes, blood plumping his kiss-swollen lips. Oh I’m in trouble. The real deep shit.
“Yeah?” Goku squeaks when Vegeta yanks him in closer, manhandling him down on his cock. Goku’s lips part and he makes noises nastier than the wet glide of Vegeta’s penis in and out of him. He can feel Vegeta’s strokes in the back of his stomach, bruising his cervix. Cupping Vegeta’s face in his hands and taking notice of the tiniest scar Vegeta has next to his left eyebrow. Must’ve gotten it recently, considering he has also died twice and his old wounds went with him. They’re both living in their third body. The fact that Vegeta would let him this close to his face makes Goku hopelessly hornier. He loves that Vegeta’s eyes are so infinitely dark. He loves how rarely Vegeta smiles. Leans in to kiss Vegeta on the mouth with a wet smack.
Goku’s nipples rub against Vegeta’s chest. He shuts his eyes and whines, hardly even riding and more so letting Vegeta move him manually up and down. Rolling his hips and throwing his head back, fingers through Vegeta’s hair, parting a line across his scalp. Vegeta holds him by the undersides of his thighs, pulling back and forth out of Goku’s aching walls. He bites softly into one of Goku’s swollen nipples again, the hard lines of his lower abs brushing against Goku’s twitching clit. Goku feels Vegeta’s biceps tense at the same time his cock throbs inside of him, suddenly hyperaware of how heavy his womb feels deep inside of him. His hips pudge between Vegeta’s fingers and Goku’s insides mold to the shape of Vegeta’s cock.
It all stops being funny. Everything at once. Goku’s so soaked, it’s running between his asscheeks. “V’getaaaa…” Vegeta’s name is honey in his mouth. Over and over again. He answers Goku with these heavy, low mmmhmmms that make Goku wetter around him.
The slick sounds of his pussy squeezing Vegeta’s cock are louder than his moans climbing up in pitch, Vegeta’s low grunts and growls into the side of his neck. Goku’s orgasm ripples through him first. He chews on his lip but a whimper still escapes him, his breathing skipping along a squeaky hiccup as he shuts his eyes tight. Pulls his face away from Vegeta’s as the heat swelters between his legs and then carries up to his fluttery insides, but Vegeta drags him back by the chin, makes him look him in the eye. Makes Goku look him in the eye as he presses his hips up hard and cums deep inside of him, no permission needed. Goku would never say no to him. The thought of letting another man cum inside of him gives his stomach a cramp.
Vegeta makes himself at home. A thunderstorm starts brewing outside, the rain smell drifting in through the tiniest crack of the window. Seven-thirty turns into nine-thirty and time slides right off the bone. Goku curls into himself. His heart never stops pounding. His insides are still raw with the leftover sensation of Vegeta inside him. The bedroom door creaks open and Vegeta is holding two cans of ginger ale he stole from Goku’s fridge. He tosses one of them at Goku.
“Yeah, go ahead, help yourself,” Goku says sarcastically, cracking the tab open. Vegeta smirks at him. He procured his clothes from the living room sofa and put them back on but he still definitely has a severe case of sex bedhead, looking every bit like he just came inside Goku three times. When he sits back down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dips beneath his weight. Goku watches him put his mouth to the lip of the can.
“To answer your question…” Vegeta pauses to take a gulp that makes his throat bob. “It didn’t feel like fucking a corpse. Why would you even say that?”
Goku’s face burns. “I just get snappy when I really want dick.”
“You do get ‘snappy’ when you want dick,” Vegeta agrees. He crosses one of his legs over the other. “But that wasn’t that.” His smile has died and he’s staring at the bedside drawer wryly. The hickey Goku sucked on his bicep peeks out from beneath his sleeve.
Goku puts the cool can between his thighs. The condensation freezer burns his skin. “You never cared about it this much before.”
“You’re right. I didn’t.” Vegeta screws his face up in a grimace. He doesn’t like thinking about how far he’s come. He doesn’t like thinking about how he didn’t hug his son until he was eight. His jawline tenses until a vein crawls over its hard ligature. “I know you cry easy purely out of being overwhelmed sexually”—he makes it sound like a medical diagnosis.—“but that stops being alluring when I can tell you really are so sad while I’m inside of you. Makes me feel like I’m killing you.”
Goku narrows his eyes. “Couldn’t have been so bad if you still squeezed a nut out of it.” Multiple nuts.
Vegeta turns around to look at him. There’s only softness in his expression. If his pride is wounded, he doesn’t show it externally. “Come here.”
Goku is thoroughly pissed off. It doesn’t stop him from putting his canned ginger ale on the nightstand and crawling over on all fours. He smushes his cheek into Vegeta’s shoulder. Vegeta puts an arm around his neck in a tender headlock and scratches him under his chin.
“Vegeta, which one of us is gonna die first, do you think?” Goku’s breath stutters when Vegeta’s hands dig up under his bare thighs, winding Goku’s legs over his lap.
Vegeta presses the heel of his palm into the ball of Goku’s foot. “You always ask me questions of this calibre but my mind doesn’t work the way yours does,” he says. Goku rolls his ankle in Vegeta’s grip. He knows it’s always been hard for Vegeta to just theorize on what hasn’t actually occurred in the real world.
“I want it to be me.” Goku closes his eyes and flops back against the pillows, keeping his feet in Vegeta’s lap. “Everyone else is gonna go before me. At least you should stick around to watch me kick it.”
“I’m the older one between us, though.” Vegeta taps his thumb along Goku’s big toe.
“By five years. Come on, you geezer. If you die first, I’ll only have myself. It’ll make the loneliness even realer.” Goku opens one eye to look at him. Vegeta is smiling at him again; this barely there grin that could be a trick of the light tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“I’m not thrilled to know you wouldn’t adapt well in the case of a very foreseeable tragedy.” Vegeta sometimes forgets Goku is a little crazy.
“At least you know that your death would feel like the entire planet caving in. To me.” Goku’s pussy slickens with new wetness when Vegeta squeezes his foot. “The best case scenario is I go first and you come right after me. Like those old couples who just drop like flies one after the other after enduring for so long.”
Vegeta laughs, low in his throat. “What is your obsession with being the first? Do you have to beat me even in the race to death, Kakarot?”
“I’m just already sick from the grief is all. Even though none of it’s happened yet.” Goku is so incredibly tired of being a survivor.
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