Yeah, Sure. Let’s Go See Yamcha

"No," Vegeta ground out, the word torn from somewhere primal.

"No?"

Another step. Their chests nearly brushed.

Vegeta felt the desk bite into his thighs.

"No," harsher.

Kakarot's voice dropped to a rasp. "Admit it. You don't want me smiling like that at anyone else. You want it—all of it—for yourself."

Something inside Vegeta snapped clean.

He fisted Kakarot's tie and yanked him in hard.

Their mouths crashed together—brutal, claiming. No preamble. Just teeth and hunger and weeks of pent-up want exploding outward.

Kakarot groaned—low, wrecked—into his mouth, hands clamping Vegeta's hips like he might bolt. He pressed in, pinning Vegeta against the desk, bodies flush, heat searing through fabric.

Vegeta devoured him—bit his lip, drew it into his mouth, poured every ounce of jealousy and possession into the kiss until Kakarot whimpered, hips jerking forward instinctively. Vegeta could feel just how hard he was.

When they broke apart, gasping, foreheads pressed, Kakarot's voice was gravel.

"Say it."

Vegeta's grip twisted tighter in the tie.

"You're mine," he snarled, low and lethal. "Kakarot."

Kakarot shuddered, eyes glassy with raw desire.

Then he surged forward again, kissing Vegeta like a man starving, hands sliding under his jacket, fingers digging into his back.

Vegeta shoved him back just enough to growl against his mouth: "You do not smile at her like that. You do not touch, you do not play these games with anyone else."

Kakarot laughed—breathless, thrilled. "Understood, sir. No one else."

-chapter 13, Jealousy Flares