Welcome to the new world filled of savages

Chapter 16

            A bow lightly trembled, the sturdy arm aimed, as diligent fingertips perfected the shot, holding the feather tip arrow, a skill honed over years. A deer grazed lazily, expecting no danger in the winters’ snow. He let out a sturdy breath and released the arrow. Raditz smiled as the shot took struck perfectly on the graceful animal, killing it instantly, no pain, no suffering. He looked to the sky and gave his thanks to the creator, and said his apologies to mother earth for taking a life she created. He turned his head, instantly sorrow filled him, the spot where Vegeta would stand and pat his back was empty.

            His dear little brother was swept away by strangers with evil intent. He couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop the nightly haunting visions the green demon Piccolo had forced into him. As he walked to his kill his steps felt empty, hallow, yet he knew there was a deep rooted purpose in him, the saviour of his people, a people doomed to fall and dwindle, but one day as time passed by, the rape of the lands will subside and his people will flourish once again. Even the great wizard Nanabush will walk among them once again and he will be the witness. Even so, the void Vegeta had created in their village seems too great to fill, the chief and his wife mourn daily, smudging with scared ashes was daily, and he partook in their mourning. Hopefully, this beautiful animal would give the people a moment reprieve from the pain, and enjoy the fresh meat of his kill; a offer to the creator, to the people, to Vegeta.

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            Piccolo stood on the mountaintop, the wolves lost amongst the forest bush below, howling to their family to be reunited. He found a strange emotion boil in his chest, a foreign emotion that begun the day the Chieftains son was taken from the land. He already could feel the difference in the air, bitter and sour with fear and sorrow.

            Idly he played with the mystical axe, twirling it in his large hands, his claw like nails scraping against the wooden handle; if only the boy was more aware, if only he came back, things would have been different for him. There it was again. The land and his time was doomed, yet he worried about a lone human boy’ what was becoming of him?

            A gentle woman’s voice whispered in the winds. “You care, you’re heart is warming demon.”

            Piccolo growled, dropping the tomahawk down to the earth. “Do not fool yourself skywoman, I have no such thing. Useless.” Piccolo looked to the light shimmer in the air, the woman pulled herself into a more human form, a bright shadow like form, holding the colours of the wind and sky.

            “You are the one lost my friend. One day you will come to realize.” Somehow Piccolo knew she was smiling, he could feel it in her calming voice. He sighed turning his head to the direction of the great ocean.

            “How does he fair?”

            “I fear for him great demon. The pond is rippled by a strong disturbance and the skies of the west cries and broods.” Skywoman sighed and the grass wisped under her sadness. “All our hope lies in one man, the brave Raditz. Concentrate your energy and concerns on him demon.”

            Piccolo sneered, the howling wolves below becoming more of an irritation then music. He spun on his booted feet, his cape of animal pelt swished behind him, with a growl he growled at the caretaker of the skies. “For one whom loves the children of the earth you turn your back quite quickly skywoman. Talk to your father the great creator, and polish the brave Raditz as you seem fit. I cannot sit idly by and watch any longer.”

            Unbeknownst to the great demon the skywoman smirked happily.

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            Our dear Prince was in a different compromise than the others, his limbs were tangled amongst the Spaniard, hands heavily petting flesh, groping and smoothing, and long drawn kisses were indulged, gluttonous for the taste of each others lips. Vegeta moaned quietly as the Spaniard broke their lip-lock in favour of his throat, he wanted more then heavy petting and passionate kisses; he wanted to feel how the man tangled beside him would own him, take him, and claim him away from his oppressing white captor.

            “Vegeta.” The way he drawled out his name made him curl his toes in wanton, he pressed his hips forward, pressing their harden needs together sending a jolting sensation throughout his body. Together they humped one another through their constricting clothing, Kakarot nearly growled at the barriers between them, ready to rip them away and fully have the lithe warrior, his body demanded it, but his mind overruled the lustful cries. This was not the place; this was not the time…soon.

            A knock on the door tore them apart, both separating with equal haste, finding their feet instantly. The butler’s voice carried into the room through the hard wooden door. “Kakarot sir, it is almost time to prepare for dinner.”

            “Thank you, I’ll be down very shortly.” Kakarot looked down sheepishly to the hard evidence in his breeches earning a smug grin from the Prince.

            “Very well sir, I’ll be waiting.”

Kakarot only smiled, food and Vegeta, those were his two greatest loves, and how he wanted to indulge in them both; perhaps at the same time. He grunted humorously, now wasn’t the time to think impure thoughts. “Well Vegeta, any thoughts?” Kakarot tilted his head down, asking on how Vegeta would cure his current aliment.

Vegeta scoffed, weaving a hand down to his own harden aliment, with a light chuckle. “I suppose we could think about things that are unpleasant. Maybe we could think of an entanglement involving the midget and Yamcha.” Vegeta raised a brow while Kakarot grumbled with a shudder.

“Yup, I think that done it.” The once harden organ became nothing more than a deflated and shrunk one. “Well let’s get going before he doesn’t knock the second time and just comes on in.”

Vegeta took a few steps in, closing in on Kakarot, lacing a hand behind the larger male’s neck, bringing their lips a breath away. “Kakarot, just one more kiss.”

Kakarot groaned, circling the lithe Prince in his arms, sealing their lips tightly, once again tasting the wildness that was Vegeta. He would gladly die in those arms, tasting those delectable lips; wild and free, that was the exotic mixture he craved.

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            Something had told him to do it, an itching fuzz in the back of his mind had told him to, and for weeks he had ignored it, but it grew over time, nearly taking his simple thoughts away, overriding everything else. His duties failed, his social life dwindling, all because of a hunch he never had.       

            It was that itch alone that pushed him to do it, and there he was, on the tips of his toes, spying on the Spaniard and the Savage Prince. He had balled his eyes many times with his fist to double check if it was true and not some figment of his imagination. Yet there it was, truer then the snow white, his eyes did not deceive him the slightest. They were both actively touching and swapping spit, tongues duelling and dancing, hands roaming over flesh that was his, and how dare the savage give as he got.

            Yamcha couldn’t watch any longer, his eyes stung with hot tears of betrayal, he closed the slot and slouched against the wall, his face buried in his quivering hands, thoughts of murder circling his distorted mind, he wanted to carve out the Spaniard’s tongue and stuff it down his throat as he brutally castrated him. As for his little Prince, oh the punishment would be swift and painful.

            How dare he! After all the kindness he had given the lost Prince, he gave and gave and what did the savage do? What savages do best, tear out his heart and devoured it, used him for his own gain! No, no more.

            He was left speechless once again at the hushed voices, it became all the more apparent Vegeta spoke English, and very well at that. Yamcha sneered, Vegeta must have been speaking it for quite sometime to get the words that precise; still, the perverted part of him made his blood sing at the dark raspy accent, erotic, exotic. No, the Spaniard will be gone, and Vegeta will be his! Yamcha smirked evilly, ignoring the tears on his cheeks.