Where Kakarott is King Pt 7

Disclaimer: Akira Toriyama, people. Not me.

Warnings: yaoi, abuse, rape, blood play, blah, blah, blah, perhaps a death.

Thoughts: ‘blah’

Kakarot’s POV

Sitting on my bed after Vegeta left to do whatever it was, I got bored. Bored enough to read, until I got so mad at the book I incinerated it in my hands. Whatever.

I started to get a bit angry with Vegeta too, thinking absurdly that he had left me (he couldn’t, since I claimed him), but still my temper flared.

I bounced off the bed, stomping off to find the ungrateful bitch.

Once out in the hallway, I located his ki, finding him in the private computer lab. My interest sparked, desire to know just what he could need in there.

Vegeta’s POV

"So, what do you have to say for yourself? Why are you here?" Gods that voice rang deep within me, shaking my core.

"I- I have permission. I w-was just ch-checking some files . . ."

"You mean hacking, right?" Still so accusing, though now he was close enough to see the screen, still locked on the royal doctor’s private files.

My head hung like overripe fruit. "Yes," I whispered. "I just had to know."

Kakarot’s POV

I stomped off to the lab in military fashion, glad I encountered nobody. I was sure to hurt them.

Bursting through the door of the room in the far wing I was surprised Vegeta could find by himself, I was shocked. He was conversing with my weakling of a father.

Vegeta’s POV

I screamed, spit flying onto the King, as Kakarott burst through the stainless steel door. His eyes raging as they always were when he was going to rape me, I scrunched down into my chair as far as I could go.

"What’s going on here?" he boomed, directed at both his father and me.

King’s POV

"I am simply explaining your condition to your mate here. He has a right to know." For being near 200 and overweight, I was still in control of my son. Or so I thought.

"Condition?!?" he roared. "I have no condition, you old fool!"

I shook me head, not bothering to reprimand him for his insolence.

Then he pounced.

Vegeta’s POV

I shook in awe as Kakarott launched his full, barbaric weight upon his father, beating him in the face.

Without any permission or control by me, I flew out of the chair and jumped atop my mate, wrapping my tail around his throat like a tourniquet.

Jerking back, he attempted to hit me, but I managed to avoid his hooked fist and keep him distracted from his attempt to kill his father.

In a malicious move, his fingernails dug into the sensitive flesh of my furred appendage and I screamed, falling to my knees and jerking my tail away from the unbearable pain.

Kakarott laughed, a deep, evil, and foreboding sound as he fired a ki blast strong enough to blind me momentarily directly into his pinned father’s face. As sick, wet splooshing sound followed. I dared not open my eyes until the strong, bloody fist caught my cheek and pummelled me to the ground.

The sweet agony of the beating fell over me, as did his fists and feet. Ribs cracked, fingers snapped, and I felt my own blood running over my closed eyes. Oddly, I began to think.

‘What if he killed me too? Would it really matter all that much? He couldn’t abuse me anymore, would never be able to rape me again. Is anything wrong with that?’

Suddenly, his thumbs forced my bruised eyelids to open, staring into his rage-bright eyes.

"You little slut," he enunciated slowly, as if giving a meaningful speech. "You were planning on fucking my father, weren’t you?"

I tried to respond, to tell him that I though no such thing, but his hand fisted around my slender throat, and I could feel my air cut off and the bruises forming on my pale skin. So much time spent inside had changed me. As had Kakarott.

"You were. I saw it in your eyes. You just wanted to get away from me, didn’t you? Well you can’t." at this, he sneered, the most disgusting expression. "You are mine! You hear me?!?" his voice rose in volume and his face reddened, my ears ringing. "Mine! I can do anything to you! And I’m going to prove it. Right now!"

Blessedly, he released my throat just as my mind began to go black, though his hands strayed to my ripped pants.

Somewhere inside me, a feral animal jumped out, hindsight tells me survival instinct, trying to defend myself, clawing at his evil eyes.

With the power of Satan, he caught my hands before they got within 3 inches of him. I cried out at the injustice, just how wrong it was that I couldn’t protect myself. He grinned, sharp canines gleaming like expensive jewellery. Shrinking back, I gave up as he invented a pulsing ki ring and bound my thin wrists together above my head.

Quickly, his pants disappeared in scraps upon the mangled body of his father, the king, ruler of this world. Former, now I guess. Staring blankly ahead, I didn’t resist as Kakarott tore my pants from me, then spread my legs, his cock bobbing happily.

‘Wow, I never knew they could put marble tiles on a ceil AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!’

Gripping my hips in steel, he thrust into me, ripping open the nearly healed skin into new, fresh wounds, grinning like his birthday came twice a year, as he ground into me.

I held back all but that one initial scream by means of steady pressure on my lips, though tears fell, hot, shameful, evil, weak tears coated my face, and my lips bled, the taste coppery and thin, malnourished.

More bruises formed on my hips, overlapping the old ones, as did the horrible, burning pain inside me, ripping me wider. Letting my head fall to the side, the merciful darkness enveloped me.

Later, not much by the mess still in the room, but enough for Kakarott to have calmed down, I woke to find him leaning over me, both of us naked from the earlier activities, and spread in blood, both my own and the former Kings.

"Are you ok?"

‘Okay? Me? Oh, my God . . .’

And then it came. Pure insanity flooded all conscious thought. I burst out laughing. Laughing so hard I cried as Kakarott just looked confused. But chuckles burst forth from me like an explosion, rocketing the metal walls, making them ring like gongs.

"Am I okay?" I sputtered out between giggles. "Am I okay? You just killed your father . . . and, and raped me. Okay?"

Sudden anger clouded my mate’s features. "I raped you? Ha! How can I rape my mate?"

The mirth froze from my chest, realizing that he didn’t see it. He couldn’t. Everything he did would always be justified. How sick was he? Couldn’t they lock him away?

I just let my eyes fall downcast, and Kakarott seemed to calm a bit, seeing that I wasn’t answering.

"Here, put these on." I looked at the cloth dangling from his fist. It was his father’s bloodstained, royal purple velvet pants.

I took them anyway, sure he could get it up again for another rape. Pulling them on, I was surprised by how soft they were, though the red stains on them were stiff.

Kakarott donned the King’s long, matching shirt. Though it had a hole blasted through the middle, it still covered his privates.

Amazingly, he seemed unfazed by the fact that he had just murdered his father. Perhaps it was because he was a prince (the only one, in fact) so he couldn’t be punished except by the dead man (fat chance). Yet again, more likely was that he now owned the throne. He could do as he pleased.

I pressed myself off of the floor, ignoring the dots swimming before my vision. Slowly, I stood, then moved my feet in front of me. I nearly fell from the pain as it ripped through me, dropping fresh blood onto the pants.

Kakarott, either seeing or sensing my agony (such a mild word) gently swept me up into his large, protective (for now) arms, carrying me on down the hall.

Quickly, the alarm fell on his father’s ‘death’, and his crowning ceremony was scheduled for the evening. He took me into the shower with him to make sure I couldn’t hurt myself accidentally (or purposefully). We washed quickly, and them I was outfitted with a purple spandex suit, full armour, and a red, flowing cape that reached about to the back of my knees, pristine white gloves included in the ensemble.

After all, I was Queen now.

When we were both fully dressed, (his the same as me, except his tail had a series of gold rings running the length of it, eight in total.) They represented the principles of the Saiyan: Love, Lust, Conquest, Dominance, Submission, Loyalty, Trust, and (if you haven’t guessed) Sex.

We left, headed for the large banquet hall of his father’s former chambers, the ones we were soon to inhabit.

The large oak and gold-inset doors were opened for us, and the whole crowd gathered inside hushed at the royal pair, ever knee bowing as we passed up the purple-carpeted walk to our gold and ruby thrones. The jewels were picked for their blood-red hue, giving the perfect illusion of execution chairs, though I suppose Kakarott saw them as symbols of power.

Standing before the death chairs, the former Prince addressed the crowd. "You may all sit."

On his command, they lowered themselves into polished wood seats, the shine on them too bright for my increasing headache as I stood stock still in this evil mess.

Startling the jeepers out of me, an assistant whispered in my ear from behind, just as Kakarott when rambling into a long, pointless speech, "Listen to me carefully. You must take this knife, when the time comes, and make a small, shallow incision just over the collarbone of your mate’s neck, then lick the blood off to mark him as King."

I just nodded after I had taken it in, and I felt my cape ruffle as he moved out from behind me, holding a closed, black case with metallic clasps. Kakarott wrapped it up, then turned to face me, rolling his head to the right to expose his soft, creamy flesh. The case was opened, and I was instructed to remove a knife, though it was far from the ordinary kitchen utensil. It was sharpened on both side, with an ivory handle, though perhaps it was bone. The blade was engraved in the sacred Saiya-go, enhancing the shiny surface.

I nearly laughed aloud at the responsibility placed on me. I was to hold a blade to Kakarot’s neck and trust myself not to slit his throat?

Oh course, I didn’t (at least not in front of a crowd that would use me for their pleasure before they killed me as slowly as possible) I just resisted the urge and made a small slit, burying the revulsion and licking the small amount of blood seeping out of the wound. Them the whole place cheered, not even caring that the man before me had murdered his father not four hours ago to achieve this.

Conscious to my discomfort, Kakarott and I didn’t stay for refreshments, heading to his father’s chambers.

Chills ran through me as the new King locked us in the master bedroom. All of our stuff had been moved here and put away in proper places. All traces of the former King were gone, except for his fingers I swear I could feel crawling up my spine.

Suddenly, a servant knocked (no one else would’ve). I opened the door to the fresh-faced teen.

"Your Highness, please?" he called timidly to Kakarott.

Standing behind me, he turned. "Yes?"

"We . . .uhh . . . when we cleaned out your mate’s room, w-we found this." The servant I was starting to hate held up my knife. All my muscles clenched and my heart and stomach switched places like some weird painting.

"Oh," my mate’s earlier excitement was gone, his voice and face flat. "Just give it to me and you may leave."

The worst day of my life was quickly sliding down hill like an unstable house during a massive landslide.

Kakarot’s POV

"So, Vegeta," I sat him down on the bed in his royal clothes, playing with the knife gently between my fingers. "You cut?"

His head hung in shame, he refused to meet me eye as he muttered a meek ‘yes’.

"Why?" I demanded softly, all my numbness slowly bleeding into concern and hurt. "You could’ve come to me."

I thought I nearly saw a smile on his face. "I- I just felt so alone . . ." But how weak, how hurt and powerless his voice sounded, I surely imagined it.

"I’m so sorry, Vegeta," I whispered, kneeling and pulling him gently to my chest. He offered no resistance, like I half expected him to.

Wrapping his arms around me, my lover began to sob silently.

Vegeta’s POV

‘He’s finally found me out. I’m caught. Surely he will punish me.’ I thought as he sat me down on the bed, that cold, stern look in his eye, like he had just caught his son smoking pot.

Then, (as usual) he surprised me, saying soft things to me, letting me sob on him until I was nearly asleep. He placed me gently in the bed, only bothering to take my gloves and boots off, then curled up beside me.

When I woke the next morning to the sunlight streaming in through the lace-curtained French doors on the opposite side of the room, all warm and fuzzy-cuddly with Kakarott, I felt good until I attempted to roll over.

A sudden wave of nausea hit me like a bag of rocks to the belly. Just in time, I bolted from the bed to empty my stomach of the nothing I had in it. Clear, burning fluid came up, as did some yellow. Kakarott was suddenly at my quaking back, rubbing it as I heaved, dressed only in his black silk boxers, while I was still trapped it the damn heavy armoured suit.

After a few dry attempts, my stomach gave up, allowing me to rest my face flat on the toilet seat a dead man sat on a day ago. That thought nearly brought back the nausea.

"You okay?" Kakarott ventured after flushing for me.

"Y-yeah, I think so," I croaked, thinking maybe not eating wasn’t agreeing with me.

Suddenly, my mate lifted my tail from it’s drooped position of the floor, smelling it from base to tip in one quick whiff.

‘What is he do . . .’

"V-Vegeta," his voice shook. "You-your pregnant."

My mind did a back flip in perfect synchronization with my heart and stomach. "P-pregnant?"

Suddenly, and for no good reason, Kakarott squealed. "We’re going to have a baby! A cute cuddly chibi! Aren’t you happy, Vegeta?"

Happy? I was impregnated with the child of his rape. Happy, indeed!

"Yes," the fake Cheshire cat grin found my face. "I’m having your baby." Am I an actress or what? My voice was even convincing.

"Come on, let’s get you changed and then go tell the press to re-print their newspapers."

As soon as I was in more comfortable clothes, Kakarott forced me to breakfast. Again I sat, just swirling my food, while the King babbled on about ‘baby this’ and ‘baby that’.

Suddenly, a thought hit me (had a mark to prove it) ‘Shouldn’t I eat for the baby? I can’t just starve myself, it will die. Even if it is Kakarot’s, I can’t take an innocent life.’

Against my inner wishes to punish myself, I cleared my plate to its reflective natural state.

Back in our room, he again sat us down on dead man’s bed for a serious talk.

No dilly-dallying, no chit-chat, just, "Can I see your scars, Vegeta?" Dark, soulful eyes bled into mine, influencing my decision.

Dropping my head, I pulled both of my pant legs up to expose my ankles.

Kakarot’s POV

I had no idea it was this bad.

Several gorges ran the length of his ankle and part of his calf, still pink and fresh, newborn. Then there were the older looking ones, one that said ‘WEAK’, another ‘RAGE’, all in the marks of a knife. Several whitish lines also criss-crossed each ankle.

"Oh, Vegeta," I was nearly in tears, I felt his pain so much. "You could’ve told me."

Then I grasped his chin, turning his eyes to face mine, almost surprised at the tears threatening.

Feeling too much, I swooped for his mouth.

Vegeta’s POV

I slowly opened up to his tongue, feeling all of his sadness and worry through our link. Our mouths meshed together, we remained as so for a long time, neither of us wanting to let go.