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sailorspazz · 7 years

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[Fanfic] No Words (Black/Zamasu)

Yup, look at me, still caught up in this damn ship that isn’t getting nearly enough attention in the form of fan works. Hence, I was “forced” to write another story :3

Title: No Words

Series: Dragon Ball Super

Pairing: Black/Zamasu

Rating: M (for sex)

Words: 5,100

Summary: As a jealous Zamasu enacts punishment upon him, Black wonders what's really on his other self's mind.

Where to read: Posted on fanfiction.net and ao3. Or just click below!

Well well well…looks like this piece of fujoshi trash is at it again! A few months have passed since I wrote my previous fic about these two, and I’m still sailing hard on the Black/Zamasu ship. I’m a bit disappointed to see that not many on the English-speaking side of fandom have joined me in creating fan works, though :/ Seriously, the number of fics out there right now can be counted on one hand! So here I am, adding another one to the very small pile with the hope that we can someday make it into double digits…!

But I can at least take solace in the thriving Japanese ZamaBlack fan-art community, which led to the inspiration for this story. In fact, the premise is based on a particular comic by a highly prolific artist. Though the scenario may be distinct enough that those who’ve seen the original piece will probably recognize the source, it’s basically the setup and a small amount of dialogue that are similar, and I do my own thing with it from there.

One more thing: after I put myself out of my own element by making my previous fic about these guys a bit dark and twisted, this time I’m back in my more comfortable fluff and smut zone♥ Try not to gag on any excessive cuteness that may occur :P

Completed: 2017.02.15

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“…completely unforgivable! How dare you!”

One moment I’m taking a well-earned nap following a hard day of working toward creating an ideal world, the next I’m being rudely awakened to hear the tail end of an accusation being hurled at me by my partner. I try to sit up, but find that I’m being pinned to the bed by an unseen force, still too groggy to comprehend what’s happening.

“I don’t care if you were just talking in your sleep,” he continues ranting, piercing me directly with a fiery glare now that he sees I’m waking up, “The only name you should ever speak is mine.” His hand snakes its way under my shirt, fingers stroking my chest and abs, and as I try to move again I realize that he’s using his godly powers to hold my mortal body immobile. Only my head and neck can move according to my own will, though it seems other parts can still move instinctually, as demonstrated by the erection forming in my pants. Even though I don’t know what’s going on, being forced down by him is undeniably a turn on.

The growing lump doesn’t escape his notice and his hand moves down to caress it, his gentle motions sharply contrasting with his irate expression. “Is this…for me?” he asks with a disconcerting amount of mock sweetness. “Or…for that Saiyan?” his tone darkens and he grasps my erection tightly. I cringe and gasp as he maintains his forceful grip for several unbearably long moments.

When he finally lets go, I look up at him, pleading for a measure of rationality. “Za…Zamasu, don’t be ridi—” He cuts me off with a brutal kiss, his tongue violently probing my mouth. I meet his lips with the same level of desire, even though as I’m clearing the fog of sleep from my mind, I find his behavior to be quite baffling. Based on what he’s said, I must have inadvertently mumbled Trunks’ name in my sleep. Yes, I can see why that could upset him, but his reaction still strikes me as rather extreme.

He breaks his lips away from mine, a silky thread of saliva briefly keeping our tongues connected as we part. “I have to punish you now,” he states coolly, making me leery for what sort of punishment he has in mind if that painful vicelike grip on my dick wasn’t even the start of it. But the menacing look in his eyes from moments ago has dissipated, and he now wears an impish grin as he slides my pants downward. “You need to repent for what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve ‘done’ is nothing. Talking in my sleep doesn’t…” I trail off as I realize he isn’t listening to my protest anyway, his attention becoming undividedly fixated on my dick as it pops up after he removes my pants. He takes it in his hands and is concentrating so hard that it almost seems as if he’s addressing it rather than me as a whole when he speaks.

“Now I’m going to make you come. For thirty minutes straight.” After making this declaration, he begins softly blowing on my erection, seemingly at odds with his stated goal. Such gentle stimulation isn’t going to get me off, after all, so if he wants to make me come over and over he’s going to have to get serious rather quickly.

But as he continues this seemingly unstimulating action, alternating between hitting me with cool, concentrated streams of air, exhaling warm breath onto me, and sucking air away from me, I soon discover that this is far more arousing than I would’ve expected. Perhaps the fact that I can’t move is making it even more effective (though if I tried, I could easily break out of his hold; even if his technique is highly effective on mortals, I have the mind of a god, not to mention a body that had access to godly ki even before I took it over). This teasing is making me yearn for him much more than I would if I could simply decide the pace as usual and do whatever I please.

And thus, an embarrassingly uncouth moan escapes my throat when he finally decides to take me into his mouth. After taking his time to work me up, he’s now going all out to finish me off. In an instant, he buries my erection so deep that the tip hits the back of his throat, then propels his head rapidly up and down. Not even a minute passes before his mouth fills with my cum, which he noisily gulps down, then he sloppily licks up small droplets that have dribbled out from his mouth onto my dick. He’s clearly playing this up, and looking so erotic doing it that I almost immediately become hard again.

My counterpart glances mischievously at me as he finishes running his tongue over my once again stiffened member. “Ready for more already?” he chuckles. He goes to work removing my remaining clothing, giving me a moment to go back to the thought of how odd this all seems. Of course I’m enjoying what he’s doing, but the reasoning behind it, this apparent jealousy over that Saiyan boy, makes absolutely no sense. How could he question our bond so much that he’d display such inexplicable insecurity? We’re working every day to create a utopia in which no one but the two of us will be left alive. Our dedication to our cause and each other is unshakeable. I would never—could never—betray him for anyone else; he must know this. So why…?

Zamasu undresses himself after he finishes throwing my clothes aside and lies on the bed next to me. Our faces are almost close enough to kiss, but he stays out of reach when I try to move my lips closer to his. He slides a hand down my body, firmly taking my erection in his hand, and begins stroking it at a leisurely pace.

I try searching his face for clues about what he’s thinking. Is this merely a sex game, and he came up with the contrived jealous lover act as a flimsy excuse to play out this fantasy? He notices that I’m looking at him and our eyes meet. I recall being told in the past that my face was highly inscrutable, and it was impossible for others to ascertain my mood just from looking at me. But knowing my own former face as well as I do, it’s usually easy for me to tell what my other self is feeling, mostly through those subtly expressive eyes. As I look into them, I can detect a myriad of emotions: a palpable sensual playfulness, a hint of steely determination, and, hidden a bit deeper, a sense of unease and anxiety. He’s not just putting on an act; there really is something worrying him. But I highly doubt it has anything to do with Trunks.

My partner seems to not appreciate the lingering, inquisitive look I’m giving him, and moves his face closer to mine. Just as our lips are about to touch, he fakes me out and pecks my cheek instead. Starting from there, he kisses a trail down my neck and across my collarbone, stopping once he reaches my chest. He drags his tongue over each nipple in turn, using long, laborious strokes to work them into rigid nubs. His hand starts working me a bit faster, though I can tell he’s still drawing this out and doesn’t intend for me to come right away, giving me a bit more time to think.

I know there’s no way he could legitimately believe that that Saiyan could tempt me to do anything other than use him to enhance my fighting skills. Zamasu and I have a link to each other that’s impossible to experience with anyone else. I’ve heard humans have a cliché of referring to romantic partners as being two bodies sharing one soul, but we actually embody that sentiment, and certainly have a far deeper understanding between us than those simpleminded pests could ever comprehend. No matter how long two separate beings have known each other—including gods who’ve spent countless millennia together—they could still never know the inherent kinship felt with another version of oneself. Calling it a relationship, a partnership, or anything of that sort that feels insufficient to describe what we share. There are no words for it; we are simply everything to each other.

Though our bond as a whole may be indefinable, obviously there’s a romantic and sexual side to it that’s heavily defined by mortal behavior. Gods don’t tend to form these sorts of relationships, so the way we act as a “couple” has ended up being based largely on what we’ve observed over long spans of human history. “Love” seems to be the closest representation of what we feel, though what we share goes far beyond that. And we do use that word to express our feelings for one another, even knowing that it’s basically meaningless to do so. Now I have to wonder if this jealous outburst is the result of Zamasu getting too carried away in the human-like influence of the romance we share, and he’s being swayed to act this way based on observations of how they behave when they betray each other.

The realization hits me that it’s a cover-up. This thought brings some sense of relief, knowing he doesn’t truly believe I would forsake our bond for any reason. But I can’t feel at ease yet, because there’s still something bothering him, and the fact that I don’t know what it is disturbs me immensely. As kindred spirits, it shouldn’t be possible to have misunderstandings or secrets between us. And yet, we’ve noticed during the years we’ve spent together that our personalities have gradually started to diverge. At our core, we’re both still Zamasu, but the differences in our life experiences, though in terms of time have been a very small percentage, have included hugely formative events like my decision to take over the body of Son Gokuu. Up until now, our emerging differences have been insignificant enough that they’ve only led to occasional minor disagreements. Now he’s intentionally hiding something from me, and even trying to cover it up. Still, I believe in our connection to each other more than anything, and I will figure out what’s on his mind, even if he doesn’t want me to know.

I can feel Zamasu becoming serious about getting me off as he starts to jerk me more vigorously. He breaks away from licking my nipples and looks me directly in the eye, maintaining eye contact as he repositions his body, silently imploring me to keep watching him. He puts his face near my dick, and though I expect him to finish me off with his mouth again, he keeps stroking away, still staring at me with a sly sparkle in his eyes. I finally succumb to his energetic hand job and release my load all over his face. The sensuousness of his joyously amorous expression increases many times over when covered in a fine sheen of jizz, I discover.

He can tell that I’m completely in awe of him, and grins lecherously as he licks his lips. “Mmm…the taste of you just drives me wild.” He wipes some of the cum off his cheek with his hand, then starts rubbing it against his nipples. “It feels so good on my body. I want to feel it…everywhere.” His hand moves down to his dick, touching the tip where his pre-cum is leaking out and mixing our fluids together. “I want it…Ah! Inside me…” He moans as he moves his hand around to his backside, pushing cum coated fingers into his asshole.

God damn, I wish I could move right now. He’s making me lust for him so hard, I can’t even think straight enough to figure out how to counteract his god powers and release myself from his hold. And he looks incredibly pleased with himself as he gazes down at me, relishing my obvious agitation. I’d love to throw him down and fuck that smug smirk right off him…though I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants me to be thinking right now, and doing so would only heighten his smugness to new levels.

He stops fingering himself and brings his face close to mine, offering me the cheek still dripping with cum. “Taste it,” he softly commands, quickly switching to his dominant side after teasing me with his submissiveness. We’re both capable of fulfilling either of these roles for each other, so I willingly submit and begin licking him. I brush my lips and tongue over his cheek, tasting my own essence, lapping up every last bit. When I attempt to move to the other side of his face to slurp up whatever he failed to wipe off before, he stops me by catching my mouth with his own, pulling me into a long, probing kiss. When he detaches his lips from mine, he scolds me playfully, “I said you could taste it, not have all of it. Now I’ll have to make more…”

His hand latches onto my dick again, though this time he’s slathering it in a lubricating substance of his own creation. He maneuvers his body so he’s straddling my lap facing away from me. I can see him peeking over his shoulder to make sure I’m watching him; clearly he’s chosen this position to ensure I have a good view of what he’s doing. So I obediently look at the intensely erotic sight of my own erection slowly entering his ass as he pushes down on me. He slides it all the way in in one drawn out, smooth motion, then rises up again to repeat the process. After a few of these protracted establishing thrusts, his hips start moving with more speed and power, and he starts throwing in moans and yelps that I can tell aren’t entirely genuine, yet still sound so enticing.

And as I remember what he stated at the beginning of all this, I have to wonder, how the hell does he consider this a punishment? Immobilizing me and “forcing” me to endure incredible sex hardly seems like an effective deterrent. Then I realize that calling it such was also a cover-up to hide his true intentions. Thinking back to everything he’s done to me so far, it seems more like this is supposed to be a showcase of his skills.

I’m momentarily distracted by the feeling that I’m about to come…except right before I get there, he suddenly slows his pace way down, preventing me from hitting that peak. Which only solidifies in my mind that he’s indeed showing off how well he knows my body. Back when we first teamed up, it was much easier for me to pleasure him than the other way around, since I had the advantage of knowing everything about the body I formerly occupied. Zamasu, on the other hand, had to learn how to best satisfy the body of Son Gokuu…and did he ever. Over the past few years, we’ve spent countless hours enjoying each other’s company, exploring and experimenting, doing things this body’s original inhabitant would never dream of. I’d say at this point, when it comes to pleasing my body, my other self probably knows even more than I do.

He knows too much, in fact, as he again builds me up to just before the point of climax, only to deny me once more. I protest with a dissatisfied grunt and he glances back at me, looking more self-satisfied than ever. He doesn’t say a word, but looking into his eyes I can clearly imagine his voice: “See, you don’t need anyone else. No one knows you like I do.” I know he doesn’t believe I’d leave him for Trunks, but I can tell there’s some threat he doesn’t want to lose me to, and I still have no idea who or what it is.

He repeats this pattern again. And again. And my mind starts becoming so mired in desperation that I can’t even keep count anymore, but after at least a half dozen repetitions I feel close to losing it. My body is trembling, aching for the release he refuses to grant me. I try to plead with him, though I can barely even speak through my haggard breaths. “Za…su…”

“Beg,” he states bluntly, not even bothering to turn his head to address me.

“Pl…se…”

And he immediately picks up the pace again, thrusting himself down onto me vigorously. I’m quickly pushed over the edge, the primal vocalizations pouring out of me shockingly undignified and unbefitting of a god. He waits until all of my seed has been emptied into him, then lies down next to me on his side, watching my body shiver as I recover. “How was that?” he asks, and though my eyes aren’t even open I can just hear the smirk in his voice.

Despite the fact that my breath is still coming in shallow gasps, I attempt to answer anyway. “You…you’re not really…doing what you said…”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“You said…you’d make me come…as many times as possible…in thirty minutes.”

He snickers. “Well, that’s not actually how I phrased it. I never mentioned anything about the number of times.” I open my eyes and see that he’s giving me a highly seductive look with those smoky gray eyes. “Just that I’d keep you coming continuously. Of course that includes the buildup to that payoff. Wouldn’t you rather have quality over quantity?” His hand drifts down to my cock again, caressing it tenderly. “Although we still have a few minutes left, so we could try for one more…”

But after that last insanely powerful orgasm, I find it highly unlikely I’ll be able to get hard again before time is up, even with Zamasu’s unmatched skill. “I…I don’t think it’ll…”

A slight furrow appears on his brow as he tries and fails to make my flaccid member erect again. But his expression turns alarmingly sadistic in an instant. “Then…I suppose…” He sits up and appears to be stroking his own erection now. “…there are other ways to make you come.” I realize that he’s not merely touching himself, but is applying lubrication.

I look at him warily. It’s not that we never do it this way—though usually it only happens if I’m rather intoxicated. I certainly don’t mind letting him do whatever he wants to me, but I am concerned about that vicious grin on his face. I realize now that he’s been so focused on demonstrating his precise control over my body that he hasn’t come even once yet, so he’s probably incredibly pent up and eager to unleash his passion on me.

I suddenly find myself being forcefully flipped over. His hand connects with my ass, smacking it sharply. I instinctively cry out, though not entirely from pain; I have a masochistic side too, after all, so this isn’t actually unpleasant to me. He continues slapping, and I groan salaciously each time he makes contact; I can’t work him up quite as much as he did to me earlier since I still can’t move, but I can do my best to play this up.

I hear him chuckle after he stops spanking me, brushing his hand against the spot he had been concentrating his strikes upon. “My, what a pretty pink color. So your ass can turn Rosé too?” Once he finishes admiring his handiwork, he yanks me upright roughly by my hair. He wraps an arm around me to help keep me vertical as his mouth attacks my neck and shoulder, gnawing on me ferociously then dragging his tongue across the wounds he’s caused. He moves up to my ear, tickling me with his warm breath as he whispers demandingly, “Who do you belong to?”

“You. Only you,” I answer unwaveringly, wanting him to know how much I mean these words. “We belong…only to ourselves.”

His voice sounds slightly calmer as he chimes in, though still a bit on edge. “Only us two. No other…”

“Only us kindred spirits, sharing the same mind and soul, are worthy of each other.” As I’m about to turn my head toward him, he’s already jerking me back and kissing me fiercely. I can sense a surprisingly large amount of insecurity behind this action. Somehow my efforts to allay his unspoken concerns have only made things worse.

He lets go of my hair and unwraps his arm from around me, causing my limp body to flop inelegantly down onto the bed. He rolls me onto my side and scoots forward to position himself between my legs, lifting the top one slightly. I grimace as he pushes his hips forward and slides himself inside me, not at all bothering to start out slow and gentle. As he continues thrusting at a steady pace, at first I’m biting my lip and hissing at the pain, since I’m not used to being taken by him this way. But as he continues, he starts hitting me in just the right spot, and I find myself panting and moaning involuntarily. He takes my sensual vocalizations as a sign that he can ramp this up a bit, and begins plunging into me deeper and faster. The room fills with the sounds of the bed creaking, our skin slapping, and my own moans quickly increasing in pitch and fervor. He brings his mouth down to my nipple, sucking and licking and biting, sending me even more into a frenzy; if I were able to move, I’d absolutely be writhing in pleasure right now. It won’t be long until he makes me come…

But I’m abruptly ripped from this blissful state as he pulls out of me, leaving me bereft. I sit up and glare at him. “What the hell…?” I start to shout, belatedly realizing that he’s released his hold on me and I’m able to move again.

“It’s been thirty minutes. Your punishment’s over now,” he explains in an irritatingly matter-of-fact manner. But then slyness creeps into his expression. “Now you’re free to do…whatever you please.” Obviously he’s expecting—and hoping—for me to exact revenge upon him. And I’m very much inclined to do so, but after spending the last half hour completely at his mercy, I don’t want this to play out exactly as he thinks it will.

I shoot him a sinister grin, then shove him down on the bed and crawl on top of him. “What I’d like to do is…” At first he looks at me with anticipation, fully expecting me to spread his legs and fuck the hell out of him. Then he looks perplexed as I straddle his lap instead. “…finish what you started.” I press my hips downward, inserting him inside me once more. As I rock up and down, my smile grows as I see him gripping the sheets and gasping, the flushed coloring on his face spreading like fire all the way out to his pointed ear tips. Even after everything he did to me before, he still hasn’t come yet, so this’ll probably be over quickly. I start to buck my hips wildly, relishing the lustful moans coming out of him. My hands are pressed against his chest to brace myself as I grind against him, and his hand moves up to rest upon mine. One of his fingers brushes against the Time Ring, and in that moment I see a hint of distress in his eyes.

And after more than thirty minutes of unsuccessfully trying to figure out what’s been bothering my other self, all it takes is one almost imperceptibly subtle change of expression to give me the one hint I needed to tie all the clues together. It’s true that we’re the same in most ways, but the biggest difference between our personalities is my high level of ambition. My need to exact justice on the evil I could no longer sit back and watch is what brought us together, but I realize now that he worries it could also tear us apart. It’s likely a fear he doesn’t want to legitimize by speaking aloud, but he thinks it’s possible that I’ll reach the point where I won’t need him anymore. Of course he knows no other god or mortal could come between us, but knowing that other versions of us exist in other worlds means there’s still someone else out there with whom I could form the same kind of unrivalled partnership. This reason for his jealousy does make logical sense, but I still can’t help but feel he should believe in our bond more than that. He needs to recognize how important he is to me, without having to resort to trying to “prove” his value.

I cease my hip movements momentarily, bringing my face down close to his. “Zamasu…” I cup his chin in my hand and smile tenderly. “I don’t need any other me but you.” His eyes widen, then soften, and he beams with pure joy and relief. I push myself up for leverage again and thrust him deeply inside me a few more times, bringing us both to our climax simultaneously. He throws his head back and lets out a tantalizing shout as his body shudders and ejaculates inside me. I wait for him to finish filling me up, then roll off of him onto my side. We wrap our arms around each other and spend several long moments just listening to our own heavy, perfectly synced breathing.

“Th-thank you,” Zamasu stutters once he fully regains his breath. “I…I realize it may have been unfounded, but I’ve been worrying about that recently.” He looks timid, almost ashamed that these doubts even crossed his mind. “I know you’ve noticed too that we’ve been diverging lately. We don’t always agree anymore, so I thought…maybe you’d rather move on and start over with another Zamasu. You could learn from what happened with us and find another version that you could stay better in sync with.”

I shake my head adamantly to dismiss his fears. “Traveling to another time in the first place was a huge risk. With each world having its own circumstances, there was no guarantee that I’d find another me. Other versions of myself could’ve not existed at all, or might’ve even been appalled by my plan and tried to stop me. I wasn’t looking for just any other me; it had to be one that wholeheartedly supported what I was doing…and I found that in you. I consider myself incredibly lucky to have ended up with you, because I have no doubt that this combination of us is the best possible partnership. So what if we have petty disagreements? That’s utterly meaningless in comparison to all that we do share. Our minds, our souls still resonate on a far deeper level than anyone else is capable, or even worthy of understanding. No matter where the Zero Mortals Plan takes us, you will always be by my side. I need only you, I want only you…”

I’m cut off as he leans forward and softly brushes his lips against mine. He smiles warmly at me. “I know. I should’ve never doubted you. It’s just…these feelings we have are so overwhelming, it’s hard for me to stay rational when it comes to you. But I know that I…that we…” Our eyes are fiercely locked in an unwavering gaze, both feeling completely engulfed by a swirl of unbearably strong emotions, and we say the words together.

“…Love ourselves…more than anything.” Practically speaking, expressing our love shouldn’t hold that much meaning, but in reality it’s profoundly heartwarming to do so. We’re compelled bring our lips together and share a delicate kiss. It stays very chaste at first, gradually progressing to us opening our mouths slightly, then a bit more to let our tongues touch lightly. We start with them barely brushing together, slowly work up to sliding them against each other, and eventually allow them to enter each other’s mouths. Even then we keep our pace unhurried, breathing into each other deeply, caressing each other with the soft touch of our lips and tongues. It becomes so overpoweringly intense that we ultimately need to break it off to get a hold of our senses again. We stare at each other intently, basking in the heated passion threatening to overflow once more. His eyes are shimmering from the pure enormity of our love for each other, and I’m sure mine must be too.

There may be no words that even come close to describing what this is. But what we share, what we feel, what we are is simply…

“Beautiful…”

THE END

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Hhnnnngggghh♥, oh my god, I love these two so much~! I don't even care if the fluff got too mushy, I just want them to be happyyyy...why they gotta die ;_; Anyway, I hope it was enjoyable, and I look forward to seeing what the fandom continues to produce for this ridiculously addictive couple (moar fics plz :3)

#fanfic #dragon ball super #zamasu #goku black

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