Warnings: slavery, abuse, rape, mpregs, kawaiiness, LEMON, angst...

Rating: NC17

Disclaimers: I own nothing that has anything to do with DBZ in a money making capacity. Only in a money spending capacity. Sage is mine, Miju and Herself belong to my beloved tsuin Cleodasia, any alien species you recognize probably DON’T belong to me; any you DON’T are most likely MINE.

For those of you who simply can’t get enough Sage, in any form or incarnation, you might enjoy our new group:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dasblackdragon/

Give it a look, if you think you’ll like what you find there, please do join up!!!

As always, for my koishii tsuin, without whom, there would probably still only be ONE Sage. *big, sloppy kisses* And the world would be a safer place. *ducks various heavy objects being thrown her way by irate Sages* Well it’s TRUE!!!

And for Mad Mum…please, does this appease you…even a little?

And just because I happen to be thinking of them, to a certain hybrid and tenshi-jin.

My most devoted and humble thanks to my beta reader, bakayaro onna, who dragged herself up from her sickbed to get this beta to me. Her hard work fixing my spelling and grammatical errors and constructive comments and suggestions go a long way into making this fic something I am truly proud of.

Restraints and Liberations

Chapter 11

Panic

By Talon

Sage paced back and forth throughout the ship. Back along the bed, into and then out of the bathing chamber, up through the main living area of the ship, into the cockpit and then back to the bed. Over and over and OVER again. Turles had been loath to say anything to the chibi, but finally he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Please, Sage, PLEASE stop pacing!!”

Sage stopped abruptly. “Yes, Turles-sama,” he said quietly, and sat down at the table, perfectly still. Turles sighed, but chose to overlook what he termed Sage’s “extreme obedience” for the moment.

“We also need to discuss the way you address me,” he said in a neutral sort of tone. “You can’t call me “Turles-sama” or even “sir” once we get home, you realize. It rightfully ought to be the other way around.”

Sage looked startled. “B..but…you bought me, Turles-sama...you’re...”

“I’m your cousin,” finished Turles. “From your Sebba’s side of the family. I have no royal blood. YOU are the crown prince.”

Sage stared at him in disbelief. “But...I just...I just CAN’T...” he said, stammering over the words in his shock. “I…you...I just...CAN’T!!” His voice scaled up in a panicky manner.

Turles was calm. “Yes, you can, you know. You aren’t a slave, Sage, and you cannot address me as a superior. I am your subject, after all.” His tone was matter of fact and mild. He continued. “You are a prince, in fact you are THE prince. We’ll be back on Vegeta-sei tomorrow, you need to think about that.”

“I’ve thought of nothing BUT that,” came Sage’s anguished answer. “I’m...I’m scared, Turles-sa...” he broke off. “I just can’t DO IT!! I’m afraid if I don’t call you Turles-sama, I’ll start calling you “Master” and wouldn’t that be worse?” Pleading onyx eyes caught Turles’ own.

Turles sighed. “Sage, really, think about this for a moment. After your father, you are the next in line for the throne. Is it really proper for you to address anyone except your grandfather or your father as a superior?”

“But you don’t UNDERSTAND,” he said, unhappily. “I…I just...CAN’T. I HAVE to address you as a superior...you BOUGHT me. You paid for and own me. If...if I don’t...it hurts.”

“Sage, I don’t own you, I NEVER owned you. I paid for your release is all. You ought to know I can’t own you.”

“You have my bond papers,” replied Sage coolly, his attitude now having done a complete turn around. “And they state you bought and paid for me, and they will list you as my owner.”

“That means NOTHING,” said Turles, some of his temper starting to get the better of him.

“To me it means everything,” said Sage quietly.

“But slavery is ILLEGAL for Saiyjin citizens, illegal on Vegeta-sei and its colonies,” insisted Turles.

“That means nothing to me.” Sage’s voice was quiet, with a hint of steel behind it. His “royal” voice, Turles thought, in a sort of panic. Fine time for it to show up now. “You paid money for me, you hold my bond in your possession and your name is listed as my Master. I have no CHOICE.” Sage’s voice took on a pleading note. “Why don’t you UNDERSTAND???”

“It’s just a piece of paper, Sage,” began Turles, when the boy interrupted him.

“It ISN’T just a piece of paper to me. I was CONDITIONED to this...to obey my Master, whoever holds my bond holds ME.” He was quiet for a moment, struggling, Turles could see, to say or not to say something. “I...I wanted you to be my Master,” he whispered finally, all the fight gone from his voice.

“Oh, Sage...” Turles’ voice was steeped in sadness. In one part of his brain, he was thinking how this was NOT going to go over well with his parents, his father in particular, in another part of his brain, a whole lot about Sage’s behavior was starting to make sense. In still another part of his brain, Turles wondered how this had never once occurred to him. “Oh...” he said again, and as he watched the boy curled up on to himself, drawing his feet up to rest on the seat of the chair.

“I’m scared...you know that,” said Sage bleakly. “Even you, even though I do trust you, you still scare me. But you also protected me, and no one’s done that since...well, since my Mistress. And you take care of me, and you healed my hurts.” He looked up, his deep, pitch eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You’re a GOOD Master, Turles-sama...even if I’m not a good slave for you.”

Turles knew he had to think of something to say, and fast, before this got out of hand. He was reasonably sure this had quite a lot to do with the conversation with Sage’s parents’ yesterday, and their sheer proximity to their home world. Sage was regressing. Being a slave wasn’t exactly safe, but with a good Master, Turles could feel how much more secure Sage felt in this mindset...he was the slave, Turles the Master, his Master, and all would be right. He answered to no one but his Master. It was easier. He was protected. Turles couldn’t allow the boy to continue to think this way, but he was coming up blank as to how to talk him around it.

He looked up and started to speak, but the words died in his throat. Sage was on his hands and knees, crawling over to where he stood, his newly-gel free tail waving lazily behind him, his every movement screaming seduction, sex and submission. It had rather less of an effect on Turles than it would have on another species because a specific and very important part of the equation was missing: scent. Oh, the boy was willing, his scent was clear about that, but for all his obvious and apparent skill, he was still a child, and smelled as such. Still, Turles was rooted to the spot as Sage approached him, rubbing against his legs, rather like a large cat might, scent-marking him instinctively as he drew himself up onto his knees.

“Please, Turles-sama,” Sage’s voice was low and husky, and though Turles could tell it was trained to be such, he still found himself reacting to it, even if only slightly. “Please, I want to please you, to make you happy, I can make you feel good if you’ll only let me. I know how...you can make me yours...please...” Skilled fingers roamed over Turles’ clothing and he had to forcibly get a grip on himself as he caught Sage’s wrists in an iron grasp and knelt to be on more of a level with the brat.

Well, that was a mistake, he thought wryly to himself as Sage, taking his move as an invitation leaned up and pressed his mouth against Turles’ in a kiss that was aggressive and acquiescent at the same time. Quite how he managed THAT, Turles wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t going to ask NOW. Pulling away, he looked Sage in the eye and said FIRMLY, “Stop this, Sage.”

Breathless, Sage shifted his gaze away from Turles’. “Are you sure you want me to stop, Turles-sama?” He scooched closer to the elder Saiyjin and pressed his slight body against Turles’. “You can claim me if you like...I won’t protest. Throw me on the floor and have your way with me...whatever you want...I’ll do it.”

“Then listen very carefully. STOP,” said Turles emphatically. “Stop what you’re trying to do.”

Sage’s head drooped, and in a defeated tone, he replied, “As you wish, Turles-sama.”

Turles watched him closely for another couple of heartbeats, then released his wrists. Sage, his support gone, crumpled to the floor and stayed there, not moving, not crying, not doing much of anything.

“You didn’t have to do all that, you know,” said Turles calmly.

Silence.

Turles tried again. “You must have realized, no matter what kind of training you had, if your scent isn’t right, you aren’t going to be able to seduce a Saiyjin.”

Silence again, then, “I had to try.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Turles, very sure of himself.

“I did, just not the way you’re thinking,” retorted Sage. “Did I actually want to have sex with you? No, I never WANT to have sex...but I wanted...I wanted you to be...satisfied...I wanted you.”

“You wanted me to claim you, didn’t you,” said Turles, a ray of light shining in his brain. “If I claimed you, no one, not even your father could interfere with what I said...and if it was obvious I hadn’t claimed you against your will...” Quite suddenly Turles was angry, furious even. “You...you tried to trick me into claiming you...don’t you realize I would probably have been EXCECUTED if I had??? Claimed an un-Awakened CHILD…much less the CROWN PRINCE OF ALL FUCKING VEGETA-SEI???” Turles was roaring now, his temper lost, control completely gone. “ARE YOU INSANE??? HAVE YOU SO LITTLE CONSIDERATION FOR EVERYONE ELSE YOU ARE WILLING TO RISK MY LIFE BECAUSE YOU’RE FRIGHTENED????” Breathing hard, Turles looked down at Sage and was almost instantly contrite. Sage was huddled at his feet, in a standard, submissive position, shaking, but clearly willing to take whatever punishment Turles was going to mete out. He was silent, neither confirming, nor denying Turles’ accusations. Turles took a deep breath, and opened, chiding himself for not doing this before, and allowing the bond to flood over him.

Well, he had been right. Perhaps Sage hadn’t thought about it in exactly those terms, but he had wanted Turles to claim him. And he was frightened, terrified now, thinking Turles would forever hate him for trying to do what he had been trained and conditioned to do. He had known it only had a slim chance of working, but Turles was humbled to realize, Sage had TRULY wished to please him. The thought of repercussions that might have happened hadn’t occurred to the youngster. And why would they, Turles asked himself. Sage had never had to think of them, and he had been away from Saiyjin culture for a very long time. While he knew about claiming, the mechanics and such, usually the laws that came into play about claiming weren’t really discussed until close to the normal Awakening age.

Turles sighed. “Get up,” he said quietly, the anger in his voice, scent and body language gone. “I’m not going to punish you. Get up.” Sage struggled to obey, and Turles helped, hauling him up by the armpits and settling him back down in the chair at the table. “I’m not angry, not anymore, and I apologize for yelling at you.” Sage wouldn’t meet his eyes, but Turles was used to that. “It’s just...you...this isn’t the way, Sage. You aren’t a slave, not anymore.”

Sage’s voice was quiet. “I can’t just stop being what they made me.”

“I understand that. But that’s not all you are, Sage. I see the ouji you were. He’s still in there. I know you’re frightened, but you can’t just give in to your slave self...for lack of a better explanation.” He chanced a lopsided grin at the child, but Sage didn’t grin back.

“I told you from the beginning I couldn’t go back. I can’t be a prince anymore. I don’t even know if I want to be.”

Turles was taken aback for a moment, but he thought before he answered. “It must be frightening,” he conceded. “You’ve spent the last three years just trying to survive by pleasing your masters, and now you’re going to be responsible for an entire race. I can see why you might be reluctant. But remember, you were a prince long before you were a slave, Sage. You were born to and educated to be the ruler of your people. That kind of thing doesn’t just...vanish without a trace. And whether you wish it or not, you have a responsibility to your people. You have a duty you cannot ignore. Your title and birthright gives you not only the right, but the responsibility to rule.”

“They have three other sons...and Gohan would be a very good ruler,” said Sage stubbornly.

“That may be true, but you are the chosen heir,” said Turles simply. “Tomorrow we will be back home, and you are going to take your place, as is proper.” He didn’t mean to be as abrupt as he was, but Sage needed some kind of sense shocked into him. Well, he was shocked all right, thought Turles, watching Sage’s eyes get big and round at the thought.

“I...I...” it was on the tip of his tongue to say he didn’t want to go home, but he realized before he vocalized it, it wasn’t true. He DID want to go home; he wanted to be with his family again. What he didn’t want was for Turles to leave him. Turles made him feel...safe...which had been the driving influence in the little stunt he had just pulled. Turles might frighten him at times, but Sage had a hard time remembering clearly any specific times when he had never been frightened. The safe feeling, and the trust he had discovered in his cousin more than made up for the occasional fright. He sighed. This just got more complicated the more he thought about it.

Turles watched Sage carefully, scenting and feeling. There was no help for it, they were down to the wire, and Sage was simply going to have to deal with it. Silently he chided himself for thinking that way, but the fact remained Sage’s homecoming wasn’t some far off eventuality, it was reality, and it would happen tomorrow. The fact Turles himself wanted suddenly to turn the ship around and take the child far away from Vegeta-sei didn’t matter. Sage’s place was where it was. In the palace. His father and Grandsire’s heir. The hope of their people, as the crown prince was traditionally referred to as.

As for himself...well, his place was where Vegeta no Ou decided it should be, in the end. Even that wasn’t strictly true. Sage’s parents could override a decree from the Ou if they felt the welfare of their children was more important than the Ou’s decision. Turles sighed, still watching Sage struggling internally. In order to be physically close to Sage once they arrived back home, he’d have to get one of his parents on his side, so to speak. And since he was fairly certain Vegeta would not champion him Turles was left with convincing his cousin Kakkarott of how vital his relative’s proximity to Sage would be to the child’s recovery. This wasn’t going to be easy. But, thought Turles suddenly, looking at the forlorn waif...generally easy things weren’t worth having.

“I’m sorry.” Sage’s soft voice seemed to echo throughout the cabin. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m sorry I tried to do what I did. I apologize for my behavior. But,” he paused and looked Turles almost in the eye, “I’m not sure whether or not I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

Turles’ lips twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a smile. He’d be all right, thought Turles. He will be. And I won’t leave him. His features hardened as his resolve strengthened. I won’t let them. I won’t let them take you away from me, chukra. I’ll protect you.

Turles was sure he hadn’t vocalized anything, but his lap was suddenly full of one skinny, shaggy haired little ouji. Sage didn’t say anything, and neither did Turles, he simply wrapped his arms and tail around the child and held him, trying to infuse him with his strength, his confidence, his pride. And they sat in silence, their bond strengthening, flowing easier than ever between the two, until a quiet chime indicated it was time for a sleep cycle.

For what would probably be the last time, they prepared for bed together, running the check lists, setting alarms and security systems, washing and undressing, finally slipping between the sheets of the single bunk. Sage hesitated, then moved to be closer to Turles, who watched him warily, making sure there was nothing…untoward in his intentions. But Sage simply curled his small body into Turles’ much larger one and breathed deeply for a few minutes before nodding off and sleeping soundly and peacefully.

Turles, for his part, lay awake much longer, watching Sage sleep, and wondering with a great deal of trepidation, what tomorrow would bring.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

to be continued

Mijuku-muse: Look…she wrote something!!! Isn’t it WONDERFUL??? Doesn’t it make you want to REVIEW???

Sage-muse: *snorts* They’re not gonna review, baka, she hasn’t been updating enough.

Mijuku-muse: *tears fill big, green eyes* But…but…she’s working hard, and *sniffle* and posting stuff, and *snifflesniffle*…and look…she wrote a whole chapter!!! *wails* *peeks an eye to see if anyone’s buying it*

Sage-muse: *rolls eyes* Anything to put a stop to your dramatics. Look, just leave a review, okay? Or else I have to live with this…*points to drama-queen Miju with mascara running down his face, wailing at the unfairness of the world* Please, minna-san??? SHUT HIM UP!!!

Mijuku-muse: *wails even harder, tears flooding out in great, anime arcs*

Sage-muse: *sighs and leaves to fetch a mop*