Series: Dragon Ball Z
Category: Horror
Rating: R
Pairings: Gohan/Piccolo
Warning: Yaoi, necrophilia, angst
Author's Note: The darkest story I've written so far. Placed first in Taboo/Abuse-category of 'Terror Unknown'-contest. I managed to shock myself with it, but I don't know about others.
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama. If otherwise, it would have had way too much sap.
Archive: Abstract Reasoning, Piccolo/Gohan-ML, Terror Unknown.
Summary: Piccolo will never open his eyes again, and Gohan grieves.. and does something else.

As The Fantasy Shatters

You are so stiff, so cold now. So still and so unmoving. Your lips are parted in a soundless scream, eyes are wide open with shock and disbelief. You never thought that your end would come this soon, did you, Piccolo-san? I'm sorry that I couldn't do anything to help you.. so sorry.

I kneel by your side, reaching out to close your staring eyes. I can't bear to see the death I see in the deep black pools of your eyes, I just can't stand it.. It should't have ended this way, Piccolo-san, not like this. I should have done something. I could have done something. Oh, why didn't I do it?

My eyes are full with hot tears as I stare at your face, the way you're still scowling, even when dead. You never got the peace you were searching for, peace you deserved. Nobody, not even me, wasn't able to give it to you. How I wished that I could be the one to bring that. But no.. your heart, even though always warm for me, was never open enough to let me completely in.

Actually, this must be the first time you have ever let me this close. There has always been something between us before.. something physical or something emotional. But now, there are no boundaries between us, nothing to hold me back.. I.. I..

My hands are upon your face, cupping it. Your open mouth is full, soft, inviting.. I kiss it, ignoring the coldness and death that I taste, brushing my lips gently against yours. For a moment, I almost believe that this will wake you up.. then the life reminds me about it's cruelty and my hope is lost. Yet, I don't pull away. I just press closer, deeper. Caressing the tongue that is still warm.

Careful with my movements, I slip the heavy turban off of your smooth head, caressing the exposed emerald skin. Your antennae, usually pricked up when freed, just hang down limply now. I wrap my finger around the other one, stroking along it's lenght. I expect them to twitch, to stir. Nothing happens. I leave them alone and pull away from your face, looking down at you.

Clothing.. you're always wearing too much clothing, hiding your wonderful body. I.. I must dispose the distractions.

I loosen the weighted collar of your cape, pulling it over your bald head. Your neck, long and graceful, is exposed to my dark eyes, the elegant lines bared to my gaze. I press my face against the hollow of your neck, sniffing. The scent of your skin is gone now, if it ever existed. I don't know, I have never had a chance to smell at you before. I nip at the cold skin, waiting it to become alive again. It doesn't.

Your shirt comes off, no longer needed, and I am now viewing your perfectly sculpted chest. Your collarbones peek out ever so slightly, curves of sleek muscles can be easily seen. Your perfection dazzles me, like it always has. I can understand why you were taken away from me so early: you are far too perfect to belong in this world. To belong in my life.

For a moment I am spellbound, but then something on your body demands my attentions and shatters the image of completion I had. There's a scar, long and narrow, running across your chest, clear and obvious. My mind is lost in the whirlwind of anger.. who is behind /this/? Who has done this to my Piccolo-san, damaged his sacred being?

Then a thought surfaces within my mind, and I remember. Oh, it came for /that/. Should have known, how else would it have come? I trace along the scar with my finger, amazed how smooth it actually feels. I lean closer to it, noticing that it's shade reminds me of green ice. I wonder if it feels different from the rest of your skin?

I try, by running my tongue along it's thin lenght. It feels rougher, thicker than it looks. No surprise, after all the wound it was born from was quite deep.

My gaze slides down over your hard washboard stomach to the waistband of your pants, the sash that holds them up. I play with it with my fingers for a while, then give it a harsh tug. It is undone, and I pull your pants down. Again amazed of what I find.

Oh Dende, you are so perfect.. I can't understand why anyone but me hasn't tried to approach you before. They all must be crazy. My hands are locked tightly on your knees as I stare at what lies between your thighs. You feel cold, as cold as the ice of your heart, but the heat that burns within my body will keep us both warm.. I spread your legs apart, as wide as possible without breaking or tattering anything, positioning myself between them. I wrap my hands around your waist to pull you closer, leaning over your still figure to stare at your gorgeous face again. The scowl you always wear is still there. I try to kiss it away, holding your body against with one arm as I loosen the sash of my own pants.

Something makes me stop.

I remove my lips from your cool forehead and look down at your face, at the stiff features that I know thoroughly and completely.. and my heart aches as I realize that the look of ever present anger and frustration you now wear will never change, never turn into something else. Never again will your face melt with warmth and passion.. or wait a minute, it never did. Not really. Not anywhere else but in my dreams.

In my dreams, you always welcomed me when I leaned closer to you in a embrace, in my dreams you always smiled when I held you, kissed you, made love to you. In my dreams you never pushed me away, called me a fool, questioned my acts and my love.. why did you do that, anyway? You knew that I loved you, that the only thing I ever demanded you was to love me back. What made you flinch away from my touch, from me? Was it that you never wanted it to be like that, never wanted your life to be same as my fantasies? Was it that I always forced myself near you when you wanted me to stay away? That I kissed and held you when you struggled and fought against me? Grabbed you when you tried to get away? Threatened you with a knife if you didn't submit to my will, used it even? Was it because I once raped you?

No, it can't be.. you loved me, right? You wanted it just as much as I did, right? You were just afraid, weren't you, afraid of what you felt for me? It would have been okay, Piccolo-san, I was scared too. But I accepted my feelings, accepted that their object was you.. I would have helped you to deal with them, but you never listened to me. You wanted to find out about them yourself, right? You wanted to find out about them by yourself so that you could one day finally welcome me into your heart, make my dreams come true? Right?

Oh, that was so sweet of you.. and they say that you're a heartless monster. Those bastards. They never, never really understood you.. Only I did. I always will.

And now the day of my dreams has finally arrived. Now you are offering yourself to me, both body and soul, and I'm more than eager and ready to accept you. Heart flowing with joy, I hold you gently in my lap, burying my face against the hollow of your neck, reaching up for a while to kiss your cheek. Yes, I will accept you, Piccolo-san. The moment has finally come, although I've been ready for a long time already.

But it's okay, Piccolo-san. It was perfectly okay to wait for you.

I press myself against your opening, noticing that it's too puckered and clenched to allow me in, so I wet my finger with my saliva and loosen up the tight muscles of your anus. They relax nearly immediately under my touch - after all, what more reasons do you have to resist me anymore?

Just as soon as you're ready I slowly push into you, just like I always did in my dreams, your cold body welcoming me with ease.. why are you so cold, Piccolo-san? Is it the sweat of fear that makes you cool? It must be, even though you don't feel moist.. But hey, what else could it be? But don't worry about it, I will make it go away.. I kiss along your neckline, kiss and lick and nibble that sweet, wonderful green flesh as I start thrusting, your limp legs sagging along the movements of my hips. I trace the patterns of your back with my fingers, sink them into your muscled flesh as I loose the control over my movements, biting into your neck as my thrusts turn rougher, harder, more desperate with passion. I whimper against your neck, scratching your back.

You were.. //ugh//.. always.. //ahh//.. too good.. //oh//.. for me..

Far too good..

I'm so sorry Piccolo-san.. so sorry for being so rough earlier.. I didn't mean to hit you.. so sorry.. didn't mean to shoot that blast at you.. sorry.. didn't mean to burn away your heart.. mean to slash you with a knife back then, to shout those things to you.. so sorry.. to make you howl in pain as I.. as I.. I'm so sorry Piccolo, my sweet Piccolo-san, so sorry.. so sorry..

So sorry..

28 December 2001