The Prince and the Peasant Pt.3

Disclaimer: Akira Toriyama, people. Not me.

Warning: yaoi, citrus, a bit of violence.

Thoughts: ‘blah’

I rushed through the crowded palace halls, bulky Kakarott in tow. Slamming various unimportant people over, I flew into my room, leaving my large servant far behind, thrashing my clothes away from me.

In a blur of navy training suits, I ripped my closet apart, searching for my inconveniently missing royal garb. Suddenly, red flashed into vision and I snatched at it, wrestling into the tight purple one-piece suit and the crimson cape as quickly as I could, knowing the punishment for tardiness. Now only for the foreign black leather boots and gloves.

Chucking various style footwear, I was nearly frustrated into crying when my hand found the dark leather I had been searching for. I yanked the resistant hide over my feet, injuring my delicate toes, to no care of mine. I jumped up and sprinted into the congested hallway in my heels, grabbing my dark gloves from my oak dresser on the way out.

As I thrashed people out of my urgent way, I heard Kakarot’s voice far behind me, "Would you like my accompaniment, your Highness?"

I yelled back in my most authorative, "NO! Don’t follow!"

I raced like a fire was under my ass to the other end of the palace, my father’s large quarters, no one in sight in the dark marble hallway. My heeled boots clicked loudly and echoed off of the stone, never failing in making me unnerved. I politely rapped on the heavy oak door, lacquered nearly black.

Of course, the King himself didn’t answer, instead his most trusted guard, Bardock, pulled open the door.

"Hello, Sire," the servant greeted me as taught, knowing his place.

I grunted in response, making my way through the large, plush sitting room to the far from tiny dining room, the one used for large, private banquets. The ash table could seat about fifty. My father lounged at the head of it and I sat the right of him, as was expected. No others were in the room.

"Hello, Vegeta. Glad to see you are on time. Pity, really. I even had your punishment ready."

"Sorry for disappointing you, Sire," I replied, careful to keep all sarcasm out of my voice.

"No you’re not, but no matter." the King clapped his hands, glazed in heavy golden rings. Several servants came running forth, carrying trays leaden with elaborate food. I felt nauseated at the amount of heavy food I knew already I was going to be forced to eat.

The servants, not uncommonly all female, left the trays on the lace tablecloth and disappeared, as they are required to do, though they were sure to be just around a corner listening. Damn gossipers!

I pulled the smallest amount of food I could onto the golden plate fixed before me, very careful of the white tablecloth and began eating slowly, hoping urgent business would come up before I had to devour my body weight.

"Well, well, well," my father said. He knew exactly what annoyed me. "I hear you have a new servant. A tall male by the name of Kakarott."

"Yes, Sire," I answered after swallowing politely and wiping my face for crumbs I knew didn’t exist with an elaborate napkin. Damn etiquette!

"I hear he’s very defiant. Why him then?" the King asked, chowing down after the last word on his favourite, sugar pie with heavy whipped cream. Got to have something to keep up that lard ass!

"Sire, I want to break him. Make him submit," I replied truthfully, chewing slowly on a piece of thick meat smothered in dark sauce. God, I was really going to have to train after this heavy lunch!

He looked at me quizzically, his large, dark eyes almost mirthful. "Hmm. Interesting."

I dared not question what was so ‘interesting,’ knowing I would find only punishment down that path. The King loved to beat me personally, using his private torture room, fully equipped with all he ever desired.

My father gobbled much more vile food down his gullet, forcing me to do the same, though he spoke not, much to my pleasure.

"Well, carry on your day, Vegeta. I have some business I need to attend to." And with that, he left me in a swirl of scarlet capes. I couldn’t ever understand how he always wore those. They drove me insane!

I exited quickly, uncomfortable in the elaborate, expensive decor of the royal chambers. Bardock bid me well and I did the same back, in a much better mood as the situation was over. I trudged back to my side of the palace quickly, my stomach uncomfortably heavy, my body uncommonly ready for a hard spar.

I rapped loudly on Kakarot’s wooden door and he opened it immediately, as if he had been waiting the whole hour for me to return.

"Let’s go spar," I motioned to him to follow me into a room further down the hall.

He did as told and I led him into my private training room. The walls were padded, splotches of blood stained intermittently in decoration. I got into position in the middle of the room, Kakarott doing the same.

I launched first to meet my opponent’s crossed arms and bounce back on my feet. He threw himself at me, his greater weight nearly persuading me down. I caught my balance just in time, flying to the side, coaxing Kakarott into the air. A heavy, sharply heeled boot pushed towards his head, then deflected off his defences. For a commoner, he had surprisingly good skills.

Suddenly, his hand was around my ankle, slamming me into the ground, not entirely un-painfully. I lay on the padding, dazed, as Kakarott came down upon me, pinning me.

"I win," he whispered huskily, his legs around my waist, my wrists held next to my now tousled head. I nodded slowly, his dark eyes scaring me with their oddly cloudy appearance.

Suddenly, he leaned down, grabbing my moist lips in his own. ‘Oh, Gods . . .’ I kissed back with a fiery passion, offering my sacred mouth. Kakarott took his golden opportunity, diving his satin tongue to twine with mine.

My deviant hands took on a life of their own, ripping away my servant’s tight spandex shirt as he left my mouth to nip, lick, and kiss my tender neck. I moaned lowly and turned my head, offering more of myself. Kakarott gladly accommodated me, grinding his hips to mine as he let his teeth softly graze my collarbone. I pressed my groin up against his, groaning lowly, all conscious thought gone from my pleasure-filled head. Suddenly, the heavy door creaked open.