
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13915380.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Dragon_Ball
  Relationship:
      Freeza_|_Frieza/Vegeta
  Character:
      Vegeta_(Dragon_Ball), Freeza_|_Frieza
  Additional Tags:
      Violence_and_general_wanton_destruction_(nothing_overly_graphic), Planet
      purging, Miserable_climates, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Fuck_Or_Die, Dubious
      consent_(times_TWO!), Intense_awkwardness_(ALSO_times_two!), Telepathic
      bond_-_kind_of, Ki_suppression, Does_ki_actually_work_like_that?_probably
      not, Radditz_and_Nappa_actually_get_mentioned_in_this_one, They_don't
      show_up_at_all_though, Because_fuck_'em
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-09 Words: 7263
****** Burning Core ******
by KrysMcScience
Summary
     The list of things Vegeta hates is pretty long. Unfortunately, the
     two things at the very top - Saiyan ruts and Lord Freeza - wind up
     getting altogether too involved when a purge goes suddenly, terribly
     awry.
Notes
     I don't remember when or why I wrote this, but I was probably
     laughing at cliches and tropes, and decided to write my own. Because
     I make so much sense.
     Vegeta's age isn't really specified, but it's probably around 16/
     17ish.
     This could technically count towards tumblr's Freeza/Vegeta prompt of
     'Destroying a Planet Together'...? I think I'm a bit late, though.
See the end of the work for more notes
The planet's sun is too close – brilliant blue and swollen in the view screens
– and the warriors already know what they'll find even before they land. The
air is miserable, damp and sweltering from the moment they step outside, sweat
soaking through their suits to drip from their armor, unable to dissipate for
the persistent humidity. In the condition he's in, Vegeta just wants to raze
everything on the planet's surface to dust and be done with it. He can't
though, not with the orders he's been given, or with his too-powerful employer
personally backing their invasion force.

For once, Vegeta feels as though it would be better to leave, more worth it to
hole himself away in the depths of Freeza's most distant station, than to
suffer through every fiery breath and burning motion of battle on this awful
excuse for a world. But he can't do that, either – because Freeza won't allow
it. The bastard needs every last one of his strongest and best for this fight,
or he'll have to do it all himself.

Can't have that.

It's with intense frustration and no small amount of bitterness that Vegeta
obeys, ripping through foe after wretched foe with none of his usual relish,
unable to stop himself from gasping for air that isn't hot and heavy with
moisture. There's not so much as a glimmer of relief to be had on this world,
not even when night falls and four of the nine moons creep their way through
the smoke-stained violet sky. He's still boiling in his uniform, skin itching
and slick with sweat, in a way he knows is only going to get worse the longer
he's there.

If Freeza notices his discomfort, he doesn't mention it, despite that they've
been fighting in close proximity to each other the entire time. Nothing at all
is said about Vegeta's shaking limbs, the strain to his every breath, and the
grudgingly resigned look which haunts his face. Freeza covers for him, though,
putting down assailants that might have tested the Saiyan too much in his
current state, and in that, at least, Vegeta finds some minor reprieve. It's
the only thing that has him sticking near to his lord, and fighting on despite
how much he doesn't want to.

It's bad enough, being on this planet. It's worse having his instincts do a
complete one-eighty from what he's used to. He should want to fight, but he
doesn't. Instead, there's an insistent call emanating from deep within,
screaming for him to do something else with the energy he has. Out of pure
spiteful stubbornness, Vegeta keeps fighting, and rather than wonder where his
two remaining subjects are, lest he entertain the thought of what they could do
for him if either one of them were close at hand, he thinks only of the
physical sensation of the here and now – of the battle that won't end until
every last one of the planet's warriors are dead at his feet.

That thought firmly in mind, when one enemy falls, he moves on to the next,
scowl set and frame tense to the point of pain, with Freeza flashing in and out
of his view every so often. They're almost shoulder to shoulder when the groan
of machinery surrounds them, the ground trembling with a sound surely pulled
from deep within the planet's crust, and both of them instantly suspect that
something isn't right. And when they hear the cheers starting to rise from the
opposing force, see their own allies tumbling from the sky to their deaths and
bright bursts of ki dissipating into thin air all around, they know.

The effortlessly familiar spark that flows through their bodies, channeling
through already strong limbs to power them further...is gone.

An explosion rocks the air above, glass and metal raining down everywhere, and
it's Freeza who acts first. Vegeta is shoved forward, told simply to run, and
he obeys without a second thought, eyes wide and heart pounding at how utterly
defenseless they are now.

They could die here.

He could die here.

He scrambles for the attack balls, still nestled in their landing craters,
Freeza skittering along behind him, and the lizard is halfway through shouting
orders to the others when the first bolt whizzes by. Blood spurts from the
forehead of an ally, now fallen, and Vegeta skirts around the body without
looking back, ducking his head when he hears the spit of another fired bolt.
The hairs on the back of his neck raise, the too-close tingle of plasma
unnerving, and he swerves on instinct, this way and that – moving targets are
harder targets, and the last thing he wants is to die off easy.

Another building detonates high above, setting a high-pitched ring to whine at
the forefront of Vegeta's hearing, and he squints in discomfort, still gasping
for breath. He chokes then, dust swirling around him, and almost stumbles
before a firm hand grabs onto his upper arm, Freeza tugging him up and out of
the way of falling debris. Eyes watering, the prince can't even nod his
gratitude before he's shoved forward again, his lord ushering him on to their
escape pods as the ground shakes under their feet. Nearby, he can hear the
shouts and swears of their allies echoing through the smoky haze, and every so
often, he also hears the telltale thunk of a plasma bolt as it hits its mark.
Again, he tries not to think about where his subordinates are, only letting
himself hope that they don't manage to get themselves killed.

Seeing the line of the craters ahead, Vegeta starts to think he might make it
out alive; worse for wear and caked with blood, sweat, and dirt, but alive
nevertheless. He realizes the enemy's ploy before they even carry it out,
though – after all, where else can the invaders go now but to their pods? – and
throws himself back against Freeza's chest as another deafening round of bombs
lights up the battlefield.

The blasts knock the two of them down, but they're alive and mostly unharmed,
which is more than can be said for dozens of other warriors they'd seen trying
to flee. Freeza tugs him back up again, red eyes wide and brimming with alarm.
He's never been caught so off guard. He probably hasn't suffered so much as a
scratch in years. Now, though, even wayward debris can harm him, already has
blood beading up around a mottled bruise at his temple, and now Freeza is
openly – visibly – fearing for his life. Coughing amidst the ash, Vegeta points
towards their last hope of getting out of this mess, just as another metal
groan fills the air, a shadow blotting out the moonlight.

Vegeta's nearly knocked off his feet again, his lord half-tackling him to bring
them both out of harm's way as the building's remnants crash down, right where
they'd only just been standing, but he keeps upright long enough to break into
a run. Freeza's right behind him, hissing out a vicious curse as rubble
clatters all around them, and even through the smoke and the dark haze of
night, they can see the towering silhouette looming up above, descending as if
in slow motion with a terrible grating screech.

If both of them are to survive, there's only one feasible option, and well
before Vegeta can so much as consider risking a mad dash to the next crater,
Freeza makes the necessary decision. He plants his foot solidly into the
prince's back, sending him tumbling all the way down to the waiting pod, and
slides down after him. Vegeta's picked up by the scruff of his neck and hauled
into the ship in short order, Freeza far too close for comfort as his pale
hands scramble over the controls.

The ball's hull shrieks in protest, tons upon tons of metal and stone bearing
suddenly down on it, everything around the two warriors quaking with the
spire's collapse. The only thing that keeps them whole and alive is engineering
foresight – the attack balls are built to take massive amounts of damage from
the outside. They have to be, or they'd never make it through a purge in one
piece. Clinging to the seat, tense and wide-eyed and with his tail fur on end,
Vegeta silently thanks every last one of the few techs he knows back on board
the command station. If it hadn't been for their tireless work, the
skyscraper's downfall would have ended much more simply. That is, with him
being crushed into a bloody pancake, right alongside his boss.

His unspoken thanks won't do the two fighters any good when it comes to
traveling together, though, not when the pods – and their stasis systems – are
only meant for one. The two of them will have to spend the entire trip alert
and aware of the other's presence, and while that might be all well and good
for Freeza, Vegeta's not really going to be in any state to handle it for at
least another week. He can't help but wonder if, after the first couple days,
he'll even be able to control himself anymore, and the very thought of it makes
his stomach clench unpleasantly, nervousness shuddering through him.

This might still end up killing him.

The scenario takes an abrupt turn when the ball's hatch fails to close, the
control panel spitting out sparks as it cycles through several malfunctions at
once. Freeza spits a choice phrase and slams his fist against the keys, as
though that will help any, before going still without warning, entire frame
tight with nerves as he realizes the same thing as Vegeta.

It's deathly quiet now – and that's far too quiet for either of them to be
comfortable with.

Despite his unease, Vegeta keeps his mouth shut when Freeza breaches his
personal space, the lizard pressing back into their shared seat with an alarmed
look on his face. There's a clatter of rock from somewhere, as though tossed
onto the mountain of rubble directly over their heads, and the two can hear the
distinct murmur of anxious voices. The trapped fighters exchange a hesitant
glance. Vegeta's expression turns questioning, and Freeza shakes his head
slightly after a moment of consideration, far too paranoid by now to take any
risks.

His decision is a good one. Hardly a minute later, a louder voice rings out,
and whatever is said isn't in any language they're familiar with.

Vegeta fully expects another assault to do them in then, braces himself for it,
and he's surprised when it doesn't come. The voices fade, the debris settles,
and all they can hear after that is their own breathing, and the occasional
quiet shot of a plasma rifle. The enemy doesn't realize they survived. Next to
him, Freeza sighs and relaxes a little, leaning forward to wipe the thin line
of sweat from his forehead, the look on his face halfway between weary and
disgusted. “Is your scouter working?” His voice is low, and tight with
irritation; he'd seen no need to wear his own for this battle, and is clearly
regretting it now.

Slumping back in the seat, worn out and uncomfortably warm from head to foot,
Vegeta shakes his head. “Shorted out when the ki-dampeners came on.” Freeza
curses again, under his breath this time, and resumes fiddling with the control
panel. It doesn't take long before he gives it up as useless, growling quietly
to himself in his native tongue. He doesn't say that nothing in the pod is
working. It's obvious enough in how he's reacting.

When the overlord vacates the seat to gauge the full extent of their situation,
Vegeta can't help but feel relieved, sitting there stewing in quiet frustration
over his own private dilemma. He wants to put the blame on someone, or
something, but there's so many things and people at fault – too many, really –
that he's not even sure where to start.

Unfortunate timing. Terrible climates. Overly prepared natives. Freeza's
obsessive need to expand his empire. Vegeta being turned over to the Planet
Trade by his so-called 'father'.

The blame is stretched out too thin between everything, and doesn't make Vegeta
feel even the slightest bit vindicated. It doesn't help, either, that what he
mostly blames right now is his own wretchedly shitty biology.

“Why does it have to be so gods-damned hot?” he grumbles aloud, throwing an arm
over his eyes, and hating how just the motion itself squelches. He doesn't get
an answer, not that he'd expected to, as Freeza has long since ventured into
the darkness beyond the attack ball's open hatch. How there's any room to
maneuver, Vegeta can't guess at, and he's not so sure he cares. Either way,
he's going to be spending an indeterminable amount of time with his employer in
a far-too-enclosed space.

The prince is halfway through a canteen of water when Freeza returns, leaning
down to frown in at him, tail weaving in impatience. Despite the heat that's
left him soaked in sweat and bordering on dehydration, Vegeta obligingly lowers
his drink to hear him out. “We're trapped,” Freeza tells him, visibly annoyed,
and he motions for the Saiyan to follow as he steps back. Once they're both out
of the pod, and into the cramped cavity beyond, he leads Vegeta the few steps
they can make to point upward. “And that's our only way out.” A small hole, the
hazy sky visible beyond, is all the prince can see, and it's as much of a
disappointment as he'd expected. It's not big enough for either of them to fit
through, and lets in only just enough moonlight for Vegeta to get a better idea
of what had happened.

The attack ball's crater had played a larger role in their survival than he'd
expected it would, curbing some of the force of the spire's fall. A weaker part
of the building had collapsed inward, and now lay at an angle over their heads,
its weight fully supported between the crater's curved ground, their now-
damaged vessel, and what remains of the skyscraper, mostly unseen beyond the
dirt and rubble piled up around them. The hole Freeza found is at the highest
available point, where part of the spire had crumbled apart under the pressure,
but it's not easily accessible. Vegeta has a feeling the whole set-up would
fall apart if they even tried to climb up to it, let alone widen it enough to
crawl through.

He glances to Freeza uncertainly, then back up at the hole, and in standard
form, states precisely what he thinks of it. “It's too high up, and too small
to get through. It'll probably collapse if we-”

“I know that,” Freeza snaps at him, meaning there's something about it that
Vegeta's missing. He gets it when the tyrant nudges him, a bit more roughly
than necessary, a little to the left.

He can see one of the planet's moons through it.

“How much time before it's full?” Vegeta asks.

“Three days.” Freeza gestures back towards their pod, adding on, “We have
enough rations to last twice that, if you're careful.” If Vegeta is careful. He
can't even stop himself from frowning at that, tired and disgruntled, but if
Freeza sees it, it doesn't seem to matter. “No doubt we'll be stuck here for
the full three days, with the Meudrotti on high alert as they are.”

Vegeta nods his understanding; the enemy isn't going to shut off the ki-
dampeners any time soon, and will no doubt open fire on any Planet Trade ships
intending to search for their missing lord. Briefly, he considers digging a way
out, but a moment more of thought has him recognizing the risk in that,
especially when Freeza doesn't bother suggesting it, either. There's too much
potential for a cave-in, or being spotted before they can make a proper escape.
“So we sit and wait until then,” he guesses, unenthusiastic.

“Unless you have any other ideas,” Freeza drawls back, equally displeased.

The unexpected bit of snark almost has Vegeta responding automatically with his
own, some bit about how they should have reduced the planet to dust the moment
they’d arrived, but he bites it back. Freeza isn't one of his peers, let alone
Saiyan, so there's little doubt that he wouldn't entirely appreciate such a
comment, even if he agreed with it. The lizard puts too much stock into
professional business rather than simple fun, Vegeta thinks, and not for the
first time. In the end, he just shrugs, noncommittal, and tries not to glower
when Freeza only snorts in mild disdain and heads back for the pod.

He can't hold back the frustrated glare, though, when a few items are pointedly
tossed out for him. It very clearly tells him where Freeza expects him to stay
for the duration of their three-day surprise camping trip. Too tired and hot to
argue, though, Vegeta just shuffles over to reclaim his canteen, downing the
rest of its contents in a single go that isn't nearly as refreshing as he'd
like. Once he's finished, he sheds the heaviest part of his armor, having no
use for it now – it's only driving his body temperature up higher than it needs
to be. Having it off helps, a little, and leaning back against the curved wall
of dirt and stone helps even more, seeping away some of his heat to offer a
meager reprieve. He's even able to sleep for a while.

Only to be convinced that he's on fire when he finally wakes up.

The planet's awful star has risen again, turning their hiding place into a
veritable furnace, and it has Vegeta panting for air, tugging off his gloves
and boots before struggling to squirm out of his bodysuit next. He feels
trapped in it, the fabric sweat-soaked and sticking to him like a second skin,
and it doesn't take long before the struggle starts to feel like more trouble
than its worth, forcing the prince to give up with a despondent whine and flop
out on the ground. He lays there, damp and pathetic, complaining wordlessly to
himself at how unfair and horrible everything is.

The Saiyan's feeble groans have Freeza leaning over him soon enough, scowling
in annoyance before his expression unexpectedly shifts to one of concern, but
Vegeta is only vaguely aware of it. He can hardly register anything beyond the
agonizing burn racing through his veins. A pitiful wheeze escapes him, eyes
closing in bliss as something slightly chilled rests over his forehead, and
past the white noise filling his ears – the frantic beat of his heart urging
him to do what needs to be done – he can hear his overlord speaking to him.
“You have a fever.”

“No shit,” Vegeta croaks back, unable to help himself.

There's a long moment of silence, but it feels more awkward than anything else,
Freeza apparently having no issue with the Saiyan's blunt remark over the other
problem now rearing its ugly head. “You failed to tell me your cycle had
started,” the tyrant points out, his discomfort obvious.

It's all Vegeta can do to not laugh in derision. He's not even sure if he could
manage it, not when he's already gasping for desperately needed breath. “Yeah,
cuz I really want you knowing all the gritty details about my 'inferior' body,”
he replies, and just that on its own leaves him winded and wheezing again,
every lungful of air hot and sticky in a way that almost makes him want to cry
in frustration.

Why'd they have to get stuck on such a miserable planet for his first rut?!

For another long, unpleasant moment, Freeza doesn't say anything, only keeping
the blessedly cool palm of his hand against the Saiyan's forehead. “With the
climate here, and the condition you're in...you're not going to be able to
survive for three full days,” he says finally. He doesn't sound pleased by it,
voice low and soft, like he doesn't want to admit it...or like he doesn't want
Vegeta to know.

Vegeta already knows. Nothing even needed to be said. It's only the second day
of his cycle, and while he'd resolved to ignore it until it was all over, the
planet they're on has been thoroughly testing that resolve. Bad enough that
he'd considered seeking out his subordinates, just for some measure of relief,
but now? Now he's with Freeza, someone who's not even Saiyan, and he really is
going to die here. If just the second day has him feeling as though he's been
locked in an oven, he's certain that even just a day more will bring him
straight to his funeral pyre. Body shaking, Vegeta's throat is dry from thirst
and tight with the fear of impending death, and he hardly recognizes his own
voice. “There has to be something we can do. Something to cool me off-”

“It won't do enough,” Freeza tells him, and somehow it cuts to the core – the
words themselves, and the quietly concerned way they'd been spoken. “We don't
have the supplies for it. Unless you can stop your cycle, your brain will end
up cooking in your skull before tomorrow's end.”

Unbidden, what little moisture Vegeta has left in him beads up in the corners
of his eyes. “...I can't,” he whimpers, hating himself for his weakness, yet
all the same wanting to wallow in it. He doesn't want to die here, outwitted by
the enemy and stripped of his power, and he wants even less to go out broiling
alive, all thanks to his own accursed biology. Saiyans either die in battle or
in childbirth, and anything less than that...

For a Saiyan prince, the heir to the throne, to die such a shameful, pathetic
death...

Freeza's hand doesn't move from where he'd rested it, no more than a vague
comfort now that his skin has grown warmer, unable to resist the Saiyan's
overwhelming heat. Even so, as Vegeta trembles in misery, the tyrant looks away
obligingly, pretending he doesn't hear the bitten-off sounds of his subordinate
trying to choke down tears. Freeza waits until Vegeta quiets completely before
he speaks again, awkward and uncomfortable. “So you can't...end it...without a
partner.”

“...Right.”

“I...expect the proper pheromones would...fix the problem, then,” he mumbles,
and it has Vegeta cringing, more at the palpable uncertainty, so
uncharacteristic of Freeza, than the actual subject matter itself.

“S...sort of. I guess.” It's close enough to being right, at least, but Vegeta
can't find it in him to explain any further. All he wants is for his body to
stop burning, to get some air into his chest, and to feel something other than
the sweat slicking his skin. Even as he thinks it, though, his mind conjures up
images of other things he might like to feel on his skin right now – chilled
hands, stripping away his bodysuit, smoothing over him to assuage the fire
consuming him, filling him with a different kind of fire – and Freeza recoils
from him at the same time he recoils from his own thoughts, mortified.

Shaking the images away, and hating how much warmer he feels despite his
disgust for them, Vegeta peers up at his lord with hazy bitterness, wishing he
had more to offer than questions and guesses about the prince's condition. He's
not sure what to make of the other man's wide eyes and the violet tint to his
cheeks, or the fact that Freeza is quick to look away before their eyes even
meet, but he doesn't dwell on it for long. His own suffering far outweighs any
mild, passing curiosity. “...I need to get out of here,” Freeza mutters,
staring down at his own hand – the one he'd rested on Vegeta's forehead – as
though he's not sure what to make of it anymore. “...And I need you alive in
order to do so.”

It doesn't matter, though. Not now, at least, with the prince roasting in his
own skin. He'll be dead long before the third night ever comes. With that
disheartening thought looming over him, Vegeta drags in one long, heated
breath, the humid air seeming to cling to his ribs, and sighs it back out,
heavy and resigned. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he mutters back, turning away so
all he can see is dirt and metal debris. “If it makes you feel any better, I'll
put in a good word for you when I'm burning in hell.”

Almost as if in spite of himself, Freeza manages a tentative chuckle at that,
but he quiets quickly, and Vegeta tries not to feel too grateful when his
sweat-soaked bangs are swept aside, burning forehead soothed once again by the
tyrant's other hand. “Maybe,” Freeza starts, before he pauses uncertainly. It
takes him clearing his throat and hesitating again, like he doesn't know how to
put his thoughts to words, before he says anything else. “Maybe there is
something we can do...”

“Unless you've got a telepath locked up somewhere nearby, I really doubt it,”
Vegeta snaps, less angrily than he really wants to, but he winds up regretting
it regardless. His lungs ache with the effort, screaming in protest at the wet
cough that follows his words, and it isn't helped when he chokes at an
unexpected – but entirely familiar – presence in his mind.

'Would this suffice?'

The mental connection, somehow, blessedly, eases some of Vegeta's agony, the
burn receding somewhat to give him some measure of lucidity, and he turns back
to Freeza to gape at him. “You're...?” He can't even finish the question,
unwilling to believe it's possible. Surely, even with how reliably shitty his
luck is, surely his life couldn't give him such a simple, stupid, and utterly
disturbing solution like this. His way out of this, his one ticket to staying
alive, can not be as cut and dry as having sex with his boss.

But then Freeza responds, directly into the tenuous connection, and Vegeta
gives up questioning anything. 'Psychic? Essentially, yes. I admit, I don't use
the ability much. And thanks to our current...situation...this is about all I
can manage with it now.’

Meaning the power of his mind is no different from that of his body – without
ki to back it up with unparalleled strength, he’s not really all that special.

It clearly annoys him, something Vegeta would know even if he couldn’t feel it
directly, and it leaves them both with an odd moment of understanding, their
shared dilemma allowing for some measure of sympathy. It has Freeza hesitating,
embarrassment hidden visibly but still palpable now that their minds are open
to each other, which effectively serves to double Vegeta’s own discomfort when
the overlord tries to act professional, like he's only discussing the
weather.'You seem to be recovering somewhat. Is this really all you need? A
telepathic link with a partner?'

Mortified, and unable to look directly at Freeza, Vegeta covers his eyes with
an arm, deliberating on how to answer. He considers speaking it aloud, but the
looming potential of death on the horizon has him caving enough to send back a
halting explanation, one that has him frustrated in how much it helps to ease
some of the fire in his veins. ‘It’s not...that simple. The connection helps,
sure, but...I’ll need more than that. Maintaining it during...certain
acts...would end the cycle. Being linked while...reaching...’ Groaning in
dismay, Vegeta slides his hands over his face, cheeks burning, before he glares
up at Freeza and exclaims, “It doesn’t matter, anyway! You can’t honestly tell
me you’d consent to that! I’m ‘primitive’, remember?!” Mocking the tyrant’s own
words as he is, Vegeta can’t even stop himself from sounding accusing, spite
fueling his final retort. “To you, I’m just a fucking monkey!”

His overlord stares down at him, expression void and unblinking, before he
replies, simple as can be, “If you die, I die. Consent isn't really an issue
here.”

Vegeta has nothing to say to that. He only lays there, wide-eyed and shallow-
breathed, unable to argue as Freeza – Lord Freeza, ruler of the Planet Trade,
his hated employer, and the one who'd subjugated his entire race – delicately
peels away the soaked fabric separating his bare skin from the humid air,
exposing him in simultaneously the best and worst possible ways.

This will save him – both of them.

'I don't...want to do this with you...' Vegeta sends, almost unbidden, staring
up at the metal over their heads in misery.

Freeza doesn't look at him either as he sheds his own armor, the planet's moist
heat not pressing enough for him to have needed it off earlier, but he responds
in kind, just as evenly as before, 'I don't want to, either. But we don't have
any other choice.' Vegeta isn't sure if it's the words that have him shaking,
or the cool hands sliding up his thighs, taking hold of the hem of his briefs
to slide them down, detached and methodical as a medic.

No...not a medic.

A soldier.

Gritting his teeth, Vegeta turns his face away as his legs are parted, his
lord's slim hips easing in between, and he hates that it has him hard. Despite
how much he hates the tyrant, and how he should only feel disgust for what's
happening, lust still manages to bubble up with every last touch. Out of sheer
malice, he tries to struggle, thinking that maybe – just maybe – he's stronger
than Freeza now that they've both been left without their ki, and that maybe he
could be the one in charge, the one dominating and calling the shots. Surely,
it would be far less shameful in the end, much less of a hit to his pride. His
attempt to flip them over only ends with Freeza pinning his wrists to the
ground, though, unmoved by his effort, and not at all fazed when he continues
to squirm in refusal.

It doesn't take long before Vegeta gives in, unable to do anything else in the
face of the hellfire threatening to consume him, already thoroughly fed up with
the constant need for air, the sandpaper thirst continually scraping the back
of his throat, and the ever-present sweat still beading up over his skin. More
than anything, though, he's sick of the craving – the needy itch all along his
skin which begs for the touch of another, and for the release of the tightly
coiled tension deep within him.

When Vegeta's gaze turns hollow, and his entire body goes slack save for his
prominent erection, Freeza is less than impressed. Even then, with his
subordinate laid out bare and spread beneath him, every last gasp dry and
tremulous, he still has to rub salt in the wound.'You're wasting your energy,'
he sends into Vegeta's mind, and with the smugness emanating through their
meager connection, he doesn't even need to smirk. He does it anyway, though,
tail hooking around a full canteen lying just out of arm's reach to bring it
over, infuriatingly imperious as he twists it open to offer out to the
prince.'Drink up,' Freeza commands, and he waits until Vegeta has grudgingly
obeyed and is mid-way through a large gulp before he adds on, sly as can be,
'You're going to need it.'

Vegeta chokes instantly, water spewing out around the canteen to wet more than
half his face, doing nothing to assuage the burn in his cheeks. Freeza laughs
at him for it, taking the drink back to close and toss it aside, control of the
situation fully asserted. And after that particular embarrassment, all Vegeta
can bring himself to do is lay there, limp and trembling and not at all
mentally prepared for what's about to happen.

He knows that Freeza is only pretending he's not bothered by any of this, can
feel the thinly veiled traces of uncertainty – shyness, even – as he lifts the
prince's hips up, rocks against him in stiff, faltering motions. Vegeta can't
see it as foreplay. Not by any sense of the word. There isn't so much as a hint
of desire, let alone interest for that matter, to be found on the other end of
the connection. He doesn't spark even the slightest bit of arousal in his lord,
and as relieving as that is on an objective level, at the moment the Saiyan can
only find it terribly inconvenient.

If they want this to work, so they can get out alive, they both need to take
part in it.

Not even sure if it will accomplish anything, Vegeta focuses on his own lust,
roiling just beneath his skin, and sends an echo of it Freeza's way. The
overlord twitches, startled, his cheeks taking on the same subtle flush of
violet they had earlier, and it takes him a moment before he catches on to the
prince's meaning – this isn't working. A little sigh sweeps out of him,
resigned and only mildly irritated, and Vegeta can sense it as the other man
obligingly feels out what must be a foreign sensation to him. Freeza is
bordering on cautious as he mentally examines what he's been given, puzzling
over it with the mildest twist of bemusement to his face, and when the Saiyan
prince beneath him gingerly rocks back against him, his expression flits
straight to surprise when he abruptly gets it.

Sharp gaze snapping down to an area Vegeta's not so sure he could stomach
getting a glimpse of, Freeza kneels there in silent calculation, cold hands
tight and tense around the Saiyan's hips. 'What now?' Vegeta sends to him,
openly exasperated, and he seizes up in discomfort when his lord leans over him
fully, hands braced on either side of his head and vivid red eyes searing into
his own.

'Focus on what you did before. And keep sending it,' Freeza orders, sliding
against him in a way that sends conflicting shivers up his spine. Whatever the
feeling is, it ends up settling low in Vegeta's belly, molten hot and urging
him for more, so the prince obeys the command without protest, face flushed and
fingers digging into the dirt. The next echo he sends has a low, wisping moan
slipping from Freeza's lips, the tyrant's eyes sliding shut as his focus clings
to it, and somehow it has Vegeta burning with need, thighs spreading just a bit
more to accommodate.

As much as the gesture had been meant as an invitation, he still hadn't
expected for Freeza to take it. A slight adjustment of position is all his lord
needs before, in one quick and jerking motion, he spears Vegeta to the hilt.
There's no preparation, no moment for the prince to collect himself first, only
the dry burn of invasion, and the intense sensation of being filled. It takes
everything Vegeta has to keep himself from screaming. Instead, he bites the
sound back to little more than an anguished gurgle in the back of his throat,
and as Freeza starts to move, he tries to reason with himself that it's not the
worst pain he's ever had to endure.

At least with this pain, the wretched desire clouding his mind is encouraging
it, and trying to twist it into something halfway tolerable.

One of Freeza's hands ends up at his hip again, holding onto him with enough
force to where Vegeta is certain he'll find bruises there later, and the cold
breath whispering against his ear has him shivering. Whatever it is that's
being pounded away inside of him now, it's only just compatible enough to where
his mind and body don't reject it as feeling outright wrong. Either way, he's
certain that it has him bleeding, that he'd been ripped open the moment Freeza
forced his way in, and for one fearful moment he's not sure if their vague
compatibility will end up doing him any good.

Still, despite everything, the longer Vegeta lays there, bearing it all with
only a mild grimace, the more tolerable it gets. He can feel lust that isn't
his own now, rising up from the opposite side of their mental link, his lord
moaning softly every so often, unable to help himself. It isn't long before
there's a foreign slickness where Vegeta is being impaled, easing the
unpleasant burn to make way for a far better one, the prince having to bite
down on his lower lip when Freeza unwittingly finds a sensitive spot within
him.

It doesn't stop him from groaning aloud, mouth dropping open as the tyrant
focuses his efforts on that one little weakness, having caught the spike in
Vegeta's need the moment he found it. Torn halfway between desire and
disbelief, Freeza lets out a breathy laugh when the Saiyan writhes under him,
hands scrambling for purchase in the dirt. Through the maintained link,
stronger now that the initial discomfort has passed, Vegeta senses the urge to
dominate the moment it flits into his lord's mind, and he isn't surprised when
Freeza uses one hand to pin his wrists firmly over his head. He's more
surprised that it only serves to send an electric jolt straight down to his
groin, back arcing up in appreciation with every ensuing thrust, urging the
other man to keep at it.

“Do you like that?” Freeza whispers into his ear, tone just shy of mocking, and
Vegeta flushes bright red at the unabashed moan it pulls from him, his legs
wrapping around the tyrant's hips seemingly of their own accord. His skin is on
fire, he's sure of it, but he hardly cares, not when he's being so thoroughly
filled and spread, the incessant need for it finally being seen to...and
there's an echo of appreciation emanating from the bond's other end as an added
bonus. As much as he hadn't expected to, Freeza is definitely enjoying himself
by this point, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he plows into his now
openly willing conquest, eyes glinting with approval as he watches Vegeta
squirm in mindless rapture.

He seems to like it best when the Saiyan twists against his grip, for he grins
sharply whenever it happens, and plunges in deeper, harder, in a way that has
Vegeta groaning raggedly each time. The prince even starts to do it on purpose,
tugging on Freeza's hold just so he can have the gratification of another rough
thrust, reveling in how each one blurs the line between pleasure and pain. His
tail, previously tucked in defensively close against him, loosens from his
waist at some point, curling around Freeza's thigh and trembling along with the
rest of him. By the time the two of them are chest to chest, clinging to one
another without thought as they gasp and moan, Vegeta's tail is tightly
entwined with his lord's, fluffed out from root to tip in delight and showing
no signs of letting go.

With the mental link still bridged between them, and the undercurrent of the
other's building desire coursing amidst their own, it doesn't take long before
Freeza stills over the prince, eyes closed and lips parted just so as he rides
out the brilliant rush of climax. The low groan that escapes him turns into a
sly chuckle halfway through, and he sends an echo of the sensation straight to
Vegeta, rocking into him just enough to bring the Saiyan to a noisy finish.

It's almost alarming, how quickly the telepathic connection snaps after that,
Vegeta going limp with relief as he settles into the afterglow, the heat of his
cycle already beginning to dissipate. Without the bond between their minds,
though, Freeza is quick to jerk away, visibly unsettled and reaching for the
discarded canteen to rinse himself off. Eyes half-lidded, Vegeta watches him,
not really sure how he should feel beyond exhausted and distantly satisfied,
but he manages a smirk. “Not bad for my first time,” he decides, only half-
truthful, and he relishes the disgust that twists his lord's face, and how the
lizard's heavy tail cringes away from his own – like the two hadn't been just
as closely entangled as their owners but a few moments prior. Even with how
tired he is, voice as worn out as the rest of him, Vegeta can't help but tease,
adding on, “How 'bout you?”

“We are not discussing it,” Freeza snaps, tugging his armor back on as quickly
as he can. “Not now, not ever. If I hear so much as another word about it after
this-”

“You could've just said it was bad,” Vegeta drawls, closing his eyes. “It's not
like you've never been an asshole before.”

The flustered stuttering from the lizard is equally pleasing, but by then,
Vegeta is far too wiped out to dwell on it much further. He just grins lazily
when Freeza, very unsubtly, throws his still-damp bodysuit over his exposed
crotch and storms back to the pod, no doubt to fume silently to himself for the
remainder of their time there.

Vaguely, Vegeta thinks that he probably won't be half as at peace with what had
happened once he's slept on it for a while. He also thinks that it's probably a
miracle that they'd gone unheard, right before the utter contentment of being
freed from the clutches of his rut has him falling soundly asleep.

As it turns out, Vegeta had been right in thinking that, later on, he wouldn't
be quite as at ease with the tryst he'd had with his lord. Even just seeing
Freeza is an intensely awkward experience, as it unwittingly brings to his mind
how the tyrant had looked while kneeling over him, bringing tears of pleasure
to his eyes with each fluid thrust of his hips. It seems that Freeza feels much
the same way, as he can't quite bring himself to meet Vegeta's gaze, and it has
him hesitating and clearing his throat every so often when they have to speak,
something he's never done in the Saiyan's presence before their unexpected
romp.

With neither of them able to face the other, let alone strike up a
conversation, the remaining days leading up to their escape pass by agonizingly
slow. Their time is spent together, but alone, sitting silently in the wet
warmth of a planet soon to be under new management, from the very moment Vegeta
lays eyes on the full moon.

And by the end of the third day, with Vegeta transforming to free them from
their prison, all it takes to restore their ki is the brute strength of the
Oozaru, led and utilized to its fullest extent by Freeza's natural cunning. The
ki-dampeners in the planet's core are destroyed, and the Meudrotti conquered,
and one simple communique later, a Planet Trade vessel is there to rescue
prince and lord alike, the two warriors returning victorious to Freeza's
command station.

None of the other warriors have any idea of what else might have transpired
between their lord and the Saiyan prince, and neither Vegeta nor Freeza will
ever admit to it. Though they both know that the memory of it might haunt them
at times, drifting at the edge of thought or appearing to them in some wayward
dream, still the two of them push what had happened into the very backs of
their minds, never to be spoken of again.

As best as they could, they had already resolved to forget about it.
End Notes
     Because ignoring problems makes them go away, right? Ha! That's what
     I tried to do with the idea for this story, and we can all see how
     well THAT worked out.
     Oh, what's that? Why didn't Vegeta just crush Freeza while he was
     transformed, you ask? Obviously because he wants to beat the shit out
     of Freeza when they're both at their best. SAIYANS, am I right? So
     dumb. I mean, uh. PROUD. Yeah. That's what I meant.
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