Passport to Paradise
Traveling with Kakarotto was interesting, to say the
least. He was obviously very fascinated by the world around him, but his
training dictated that he not say anything about it. So every time he gasped
with delight or made a casual remark about something he had seen or heard, he
would apologize profusely for doing so.
"Kakarotto, you're entitled to an opinion, you know." Vegeta said after the third day he caught the boy stifling himself.
"I... know." He said this as if he had just come to that realization. "But usually masters don't care to hear a slave speak. We are little more than animals who walk on two legs, after all."
"No!" The boy jumped and stared at him with wide eyes. The prince softened his tone. "Don't say that about yourself again. You are still a member of the Saiya-jin race and Saiya-jin are never animals. I want you to repeat this to yourself every morning until you start to believe it." Kakarotto looked as if he wanted to say something unflattering about his mental stability, but held his tongue as usual. He simply nodded and returned to his lunch of jerky, cheese, and bread.
Their resting place was beside a small river that flowed along a well-traveled road to Fisher's Cove. Because the city was on the coast, the road ended with it, but there were a few smaller settlements scattered between. The most notable of them was Fira, a town renown for its spiced wine.
"Are you ready to move on?" the prince asked. He'd quickly learned that Kakarotto never expressed any kind of want or need, that he would look to his master for cues. It made him think about what else the boy had submitted to and, being a slave, it would have been a lot. He loathed to think about the boy's time in slavery.
"Only if you are, sir." He still couldn't bring himself to call the newest man to purchase him by his first name.
"What have I told you about having your own opinion?"
"That I am allowed to have one."
"Then do you want to stay or do you want to go?"
Kakarotto examined his surroundings once more. The tree they sat beneath provided more-than-adequate shade from the glaring sun he knew to be overhead. The stream beside them provided clean water and its music was pleasant to the ear. Beside him sat a man who had supposedly bought his freedom, a man who said that they were equals. His stomach was full for the first time in years and he didn't fear that his life would end if he took a breath at the wrong moment. Kakarotto couldn't ask for anything better.
"I would very much like to stay, sir. If only for a little while longer."
Vegeta caught his eyes and just barely stopped himself from smiling. "Then we will stay."
Several times throughout the course of the afternoon Vegeta had felt restless. He wasn't used to being idle. Even in the castle he'd trained and exercised daily. Every time he felt as if he could take no more he looked over at Kakarotto and took note of the soft smile on his face. For a slave, peaceful moments such as these were probably few and far between.
When the afternoon started to drift off towards night, Vegeta finally called a halt to their rest. It wasn't wise to remain on the roads after dark, he explained, and Kakarotto wasn't able to defend himself.
The boy made the expression the prince had come to associate with the effort it took to hold back his words. Vegeta waited patiently, hoping that he would speak without being prompted this time. "I-I can fight, sir."
He stared at him. "Did I hear you correctly? You say that you can fight?"
"Before I was captured, I had been trained in combat."
"You hardly look old enough to be a warrior, no matter how tall you are." Even after a few days of traveling beside him, their dramatic height difference was still a sore point for the prince.
Smiling at him, Kakarotto admitted, "I'm sixteen summers. The barbarians came from the east when I was twelve."
Four years in bondage and he had survived. Maybe not entirely whole, but alive nonetheless.
"Perhaps we can spar sometime," Vegeta said offhandedly. The wince his suggestion caused was proof enough that they still had a long road ahead of them.
When darkness fell things always became uncomfortable between them. It seemed that Kakarotto expected his new master to come to him in the night, forcing him to submit beneath him as previous masters had done. Vegeta had guessed this on the very first night, but had yet to say anything about it. When the boy huddled on the opposite side of the fire once more, the prince could ignore it no longer.
"Come here, Kakarotto."
"Master..." the word was soft and it slipped out unbidden. Clearly he thought he had something to fear.
When he was close enough, his blanket trailing from his shoulders like a strange woolen cape, the prince lightly clasped his hand and pulled him onto his lap. For a moment Kakarotto's body was like steel, rigid and unresponsive, but then he slowly relaxed when Vegeta did nothing but hold him.
"I thought you needed this," he whispered, his breath tickling his ear. "How long has it been since anyone held you?"
His voice broke on the first word. "T-too long, Master." He still did not know what the prince desired from him.
"Listen to me well. I will never give you cause to be afraid of me. I have the power to protect you and I will use that power to its fullest extent."
"You do? You will?"
Vegeta gently grasped his chin and tilted the boy's face up so that they were able to make eye contact in the weak light of the nearby fire. "I am the crown prince, Kakarotto."
He stared at him in wonder. Nothing he'd ever heard about the Saiya-jin royal family could have prepared him for the reality. The prince was a very good man. In the few days he'd been with him, Kakarotto had been treated better than he'd ever had. That included the days Before when he had still been free and his parents had still been filled with life. The sight of their lifeless, bloody corpses lying amongst hundreds of others on the vast plain where his people had gone to meet the attack would forever haunt him. And, to make matters worse, it had happened because of him. If they had just given him up, none of them would be dead.
His body shook as a sob tore at his chest. Alarmed, Vegeta peered at him through the gloom in an attempt to discern what was wrong. "Am I hurting you somehow?"
The boy shook his head then twisted around so that he could bury his face in Vegeta's hair. Greatly surprised by this, he could only hold him tighter until the tears ran their course. When he had seemingly cried himself out, the prince tried to pull from him what had caused the sudden surge of sadness, but Kakarotto's mouth remained shut tighter than a clam's shell and no amount of probing could open it. Eventually he gave up with a silent promise to try again another day.
That night Kakarotto slept close enough to touch. Either he was taking his vow of protection as seriously as he'd meant it, or the crying had lowered his defenses enough that he felt too vulnerable to sleep on the other side of the fire alone. Whatever his reasons, Vegeta felt grateful that Kakarotto trusted him not to molest him in his sleep. When they got around to that (if ever), Vegeta wanted a fully awake and aware young man to be the recipient of any fondling he decided to place upon his person.
The sun was already up when he awoke, which was highly unusual. For as long as he could remember, he had been up before dawn. Kakarotto wasn't lying beside him but his blanket was folded neatly in his place. The small pack he had carried with him from Hillys was gone as well. Vegeta jumped to his feet with haste, hoping that the signs were not true and the boy hadn't run off in the middle of the night. The small glade they'd decided to make camp in was well away from the road so that no passersby would be able to spot them without searching very diligently, but not so far that they could get lost trying to find their way back to the road.
Vegeta loathed to call out just in case there were predators nearby, and it wasn't just the four-legged kind he was concerned about. Bandits were known to prey upon travelers and although he hadn't heard word of any being in this area, that didn't necessarily mean that they weren't around.
"Kakarotto," he called softly, then snorted at himself at the absurdity of expecting the boy to hear him if he whispered. It was a futile effort and was only proving to frustrate him. Deciding to use his senses instead of wandering blindly through the forest, he stood very still and began to examine the world around him. There was a soft rustle in a nearby bush as a small animal passed through it. A bird -- a jay judging by the sound -- called to its mate high above his head. And something splashed only twenty feet away from him which could only mean that there was a body of water nearby that he hadn't known about.
Something pulled him in that direction even as he cursed himself for not scouting the area more thoroughly. A good adventurer was supposed to know where major landmarks were. He knew that it wasn't very fair to be so hard on himself (considering the fact that he'd never been in a forest before half a week ago), but Vegeta had always held himself to impossibly high standards and wasn't going to stop now.
As he drew close enough to the water, he began to hear sounds of humming. The voice was a pleasant baritone that he'd become very familiar with. In a stream that was barely the width of a wagon stood Kakarotto. He was completely naked, which was quite easy to discern since the water only came up to mid-thigh, and was bathing himself religiously. The idea of taking a bath didn't sound bad, actually, but he had never bathed out-of-doors in a stream and wasn't going to start now. He was a prince after all, and princes performed all hygienic duties behind closed doors, comfortably ensconced in hot water that smelled delightfully of herbs. Even though he would not be participating, there was nothing against observing from afar. As long as he wasn't discovered, that is.
He watched as large hands maneuvered a small lump of crude soap over one very nice thigh and began to beg Kakarotto softly to turn around and face him. From this angle he could see his back and its map of scars and couldn't stop himself from wondering just how many were there. By the look of things there had to be close to hundred. His fists clenched and he made a mental note to find out just who had done that to him so that he could give them a taste of their own medicine.
Then Kakarotto turned and all thoughts of retribution flew right out of his head.
He was perfect. Completely and utterly perfect. That thin line of hair led the way to a cock so magnificent it seemed to have been taken from a statue. Of course it was soft, but he could see incredible potential there.
Large, long-fingered hands encouraged the soap to lather. Kakarotto's free hand glided across his chest, leaving behind a thin film of soap that glistened in the sun. Was it only his imagination or did those fingers linger a bit longer than was necessary on the two hardened nubs of light brown flesh that adorned his smooth chest?
The wandering hand dipped lower, across the flat plane of his abdomen, to tangle in the thick thatch of black pubic hair surrounding his member. Vegeta held his breath in anticipation, hoping against hope that he would do more than just wash himself, though the sight of slippery hands sliding over lightly bronzed flesh was quite nice to behold as well. When the hand did not move and began actively fondling, Vegeta thought he would pass out from the rush of blood from his brain to his nether regions.
His exquisite cock lengthened and grew, becoming longer than his own in the end, but not thicker. Now he hoped for Kakarotto to stand at more of an angle to him so that he could have a better view of his self-service.
His own hand stole below the waistband of his pants to mimic the actions of the boy -- no, young man -- as he raised himself to the heights of ecstasy. There were so many things he had yet to be taught and the prince would gladly give his right arm to be the one to teach him. The wild bucking of his hips signaled that he was close, so close and, upon seeing the look of rapture on his face, so was Vegeta. Kakarotto's mouth opened just as his cock began to erupt like a volcano, a low moan emerging from deep within that effectively shoved Vegeta over the precipice. The prince bit his lip 'til he drew blood to prevent himself from adding his own cries of passion to the still morning air.
And the last thing he thought of before sneaking away as quietly as he'd come was that allowing Kakarotto's offering to be carried off by the mindless current had been such a waste.
Kakarotto breathed heavily after his climax, allowing himself to calm down naturally. There was no mess to take care of so he instead kneeled in the water to wash away the soap. He hoped that the prince had enjoyed his performance and, judging by the look on his face, he most certainly had.
His warrior senses, still sharp even after so many years of not using them, had alerted him to the presence of another person the moment Vegeta had reached the bank. Majority of his body had been masked behind the shrubbery he'd kneeled behind, but glimpses of pale skin and the black material of his tunic had shown behind the green of the leaves. It had been a spontaneous decision to exhibit himself, but they'd both gotten pleasure out of it so no harm had been done. Vegeta had also further proved himself to the teen by not taking advantage of his nude state and forcing him to become a receptacle for his lust.
Kakarotto returned to shore and dressed in a fresh set of clothes, wrapping the soap in a linen cloth to keep it clean. As he pulled on his new boots, he wondered if he should take the initiative and let Vegeta know that he liked him as well. He wouldn't be able to just come out and say it, but there had to be dozens, if not hundreds of other little ways that didn't require verbal communication.
When he returned to camp, the prince had packed everything up and had set out a small breakfast of berries and nuts they had collected a few days ago. It was the last of it, actually, and more food would have to be purchased in the next town. As they ate, Kakarotto noticed that the prince glanced at him several times, an inscrutable expression on his face. It made him nervous not to know what he was thinking and it showed as he gathered his bag.
"N-nothing," he stuttered, not looking at him.
"Your behavior says otherwise."
Knowing that he would not be able to simply keep his mouth closed this time, he tried to explain. "Have I somehow displeased you? I find it comforting when I can see your mood on your face or in your eyes. When you're blank like this, I become unsure."
Vegeta moved forward so that they were only a foot apart. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's not something that I do consciously, but I will try to change." He allowed some of the desire he felt every moment he was in the teen's presence bleed into his eyes. "What do you see now?"
He swallowed reflexively. "The reflection of my heart." And then he was closing the gap between them.
Their first kiss was gentle, as was the second, but the feel of Vegeta's hands on his back clutching the material of his shirt stoked the fire the kiss had ignited within his body. He dropped his bag to the ground and buried his own hands in Vegeta's soft hair, sucking on his lips as if he wanted to devour his soul.
The prince's tongue made an entrance, then, and they began to duel in the warm cavern that was Vegeta's mouth. His hands slid down from his back to clutch at his ass, pulling their bodies more tightly together so that each of them could feel the evidence of the other's arousal. Kakarotto broke off the kiss to moan aloud and Vegeta was able to come back to himself.
"We can't do this now," he said, his voice unsteady. Kakarotto blinked glazed eyes at him. "It's not safe out here in the open," he further explained. "It'll have to wait until we can find an inn with an unoccupied room."
Taking a large step back, the teen struggled to regain control of himself. Of course Vegeta was right. In broad daylight they would be easily seen by anyone searching hard enough. If they became too caught up in their passion, they would be dead before they knew it.
He couldn't help cupping his groin and adjusting himself in plain view of the prince, making promises for when they could take the time to enjoy themselves. "Whatever you say, Master." The resultant smirk from his purposeful use of the title threatened to undo him entirely.