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Title: Indulging in the Lack of Control.
Fandom: Dragon Ball, before DBZ starts.
Warnings: Handjobs, frottage, PWP.
Characters/couples: Tenshinhan/Yamcha.
Summary: He was used to controlling all his sexual impulses, had fought for control all through his adolescency, only to feel it crumbling as Yamcha moved against him, their erections rubbing together, and that doesn't change through the years.
Rating: R/NC 17.
Notes: OKAY. I get it! Now, let's get on with it and finish killing my childhood, bloody stupid plot bunny of hell. (Yay, insomnia and stupid bunnies that demand to be written, and yes, writing this is more twitch-worthy for me than Disney!slash, thanks.) In other news, this is my - very reluctant, please to NOT get used at writing for this fandom 'cause I plan on staying away - 49th fandom.

Indulging in the Lack of Control.

There are no new scars over Yamcha's body, from what Ten can see or feel. This both pleases him and annoys him, because even if the human Ten is glad that his friend hasn't been injured lately, the warrior in him can't stop but feel angry that a fellow warrior has obviously stopped taking his training seriously.

His thoughts come to a sudden healt as Yamcha's calloused fingers finally wrap around his cock, stroking, and he gasps, feeling Yamcha's smile against his shoulder; he's just thankful that this isn't something new, so he doesn't blush; he remembers all too clearly the first times something like this happened, the uncertainity of it all. He was used to controlling all his sexual impulses, had fought for control all through his adolescency, only to feel it crumbling as Yamcha moved against him, their erections rubbing together, and that doesn't change through the years.

He still doesn't indulge much in sexual pleasure. The thought of it rarely crosses his mind, and it mostly seems to involve Yamcha; thus he never really thinks about it, only when it's happening, and then his thoughts are blissfully distracted. He realizes that it's potentially dangerous, to have such a turmoil without trying to understand it, but he prefers to keep that alone.

"Ten..." Yamcha groans, lips against his neck, legs almost straddling his and then Ten moves his hand, feels the coarse hair around Yamcha's dick and cups his balls. Yamcha groans again and strokes harder, hanging unto his shoulder, and Ten finally wraps his equally callused fingers around his cock and strokes. "Fuck, yes, just like that."

As it is, they almost never indulge in it. Sex, that's it. Ten tried to understand it at first, if only because he'd rather eat glass than risk angering Bulma and Lunch, but Yamcha had dismissed it, that first time they had sex, just after Yamcha had gotten that scar over his face, and Ten fully admitted on only knowing the theorical part of relationships, s he never pressed much.

He groans again when Yamcha settles more over his lap and bats his hand away, holding both of their erections in the warm, moist hold of his palms. Ten gives a silent gasp, only to feel Yamcha's lips on his, tongue coaxing his, gently sucking on it and he groans into the kiss, just touching Yamcha's skin and the scars over his body, feeling his fingerpads almost buzzing with the way their ki is burning, and for a moment he has a clear image of Muten Roshi, implying the uses of sex for practice before he forces that image to the farthest part of his subconcious.

"Tenshinhan," Yamcha gasps once they break the kiss, eyes half closed as he licks his lips, still rocking against him and with him, thumb smearing the precome. This was a short visit, he knows, so Ten moves a hand to Yamcha's ass and let's his thumb tease around Yamcha's hole, not pushing, just watching the way Yamcha's face changes as his dry-finger continues teasing him. "Fuck!"

And Yamcha's body spasms as his come splatters their bellies and his hand; with the precise focus any martial artist should have, Ten focuses over that tingling feeling near his spine, lets it be everything, become everything, fill everything and...

He forces himself to blink slowly one he comes down from the rush. Yamcha is grinning - he always does the same, whenever they have sex. That first time, he had said he thought Tenshinhan didn't have any hormones and that he was pleasantly surprised - before he moves from his lap, flopping face up on the matress.

"So... this reunion at Kame House..." And Ten feels satiated and content, almost laughing at the incongruency of it all, smiling at his friend, who just blinks, "What?"

"Are you going to the reunion?" Ten asks, if only to change the point of view. Yamcha seems to consider this slowly, idly scratching at his stomach, never minding the come drying there (Ten has discretely wiped himself with his discarded shirt, but Yamcha, always a little on the hedonist side, doesn't seem to mind) before he shakes his head.

"Nah, with how's everything with Bulma and me, we'd just start fighting."

They share a smile at that before Yamcha finally stands up, stretching. He bends to pick up his clothes, and Ten is thankful that this has become familiar enough that he doesn't blush anymore, and he doesn't follow, nor with eyes nor body, Yamcha's retreat towards the bathroom.

Yamcha emerges from it talking, fingercombing his hair before holding it into a ponytail, Yamcha has always been a little too superficial, a little too vain, "... said that even Goku was gonna go, taking his kid with him. I do wonder, what kind of kid Goku had? I can't believe that he'd father someone... so, you're going?"

Ten just smiles a little, "I'll have to talk it with Chaozu first."

They both know it's a 'no', but Yamcha just nods and grins as if he didn't know, hands deep in his pockets as he walks to the door; Ten doesn't walk him to the door.

"Well, say hello to Chaozu for me?"

Ten shakes his head but then smiles as he sees Yamcha by the door.

"Sure."

"And if you're near the city and want to go and see a baseball game..." Yamcha trails off, and by the way he's saying it, he wants this to happen. Hopes for it, at least.

Ten doesn't find it in himself to be cruel to a friend, so he nods again.

"If that happens, I'll give you a call."

Yamcha grins, hand up in a careless goodbye before walking away. As Ten-Shin-Han stands up and goes towards the bathroom, he wonders how much time it'll be until the next time he sees Yamcha again.

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