#piccochi

Bueno

Casi

Se que Piccolo le lleva a Gohan cuatro años pero no me importa, yo los quiero ver juntos, necesito fanarts, fics, hc's de ellos

Piccolo: How about removing it now?

I hope you’re all interested in an educational experience! After all, what is the point of writing alien-sex if there are no hints or descriptions of fascinating anatomical differences? No point, I tell you. Now, settle back and enjoy…

Piccolo knew when his body was not as it should be.

Meditation taught him how to focus his attention inwardly, instead of wasting his energy on external distractions. He took comfort in the steady rhythm of his heart, in the ki that strengthened him. He knew how heavy his body was supposed to feel, how his limbs were supposed to bend when he moved, stretched, sparred. The pattern of his breathing was slow, deep, a homing point for his concentration when agitated. So when he eventually roused from his nap and felt warmer, it was something he noted. When he stretched and his nostrils flared at Chichi’s scent, lingering on the linen, he knew his senses were more sensitive than what was normal.

That sensation only increased when he descended the stairs, after checking on Goten. The sight of the babe made his chest tighten in a yearning he recognised, but had only recently been willing to admit to himself. The desire was far from ideal, but he had been feeling it all the same.

Great, he sighed to himself, knowing the culmination of ‘symptoms’ to be those of his heat. He wondered how it had manifested during a nap, of all things, but he would not question the logic of hormones when they produced such irrational impulses. Although, when he looked in at his wife, eyes lingering upon her shapely form, he thought it wasn’t that irrational that he should want her. Even less irrational, he mused, approaching her, was wanting her children. After all, she was a wonderful woman - insane, at the best of times, but driven, loving, tough and more tenacious than any of the z-fighters could hope to be…

His walk was a slow prowl, confident and contained, akin to that of a panther. “Chiichh,” he murmured, voice bordering on a purr, the part of his mind not hazed over with desire berating him for such an indiscretion. The rest of Piccolo could care less. “…Want a hand with those?”

Chichi was busy in the kitchen, humming a merry little tune as she busily scrubbed dishes. Goten was asleep in his room - what a perfect little cherub, she thought, sighing at the thought of her youngest child - and Gohan off at school.

A creak from the stairs drew her attention. Piccolo must be up from his nap. She was unsure if it had been an intentional slumber. As far as he had told her, he was going to meditate, but when she had gone up to check on him, her handsome husband had undoubtedly been sleeping, slumped over on the bed and clutching a pillow in his talons. He was pretty damn cute when he slept, and it was all she could do to restrain herself from curling up beside him.

A smile tugged at her lips at the sound of Piccolo’s deep voice.

"Are you offering to help me with the chores?" Chichi crooned, wiping off a plate and setting it neatly on a pile with others like it. "I would greatly appreciate it," she replied. Piccolo was always so helpful and considerate. So steady…

She frowned, hearing something… Amiss? “Honey, did you just purr?” He had, hadn’t he? “You feeling okay?” Chichi set the bowl down, wiping her hands on a towel. She started to turn towards him, intending to check his temperature. However, her path was blocked, and she found herself pressed against the counter, Piccolo behind her. She raised an eyebrow.

Oh…?

Piccolo did not respond straightaway. His ears were filled with her voice, which pricked and twitched at each word, in the shift of her tone from appreciation to concern. He could listen to her all day - even if she were screaming at him, or better, because of him. Yes, that was what he liked most… Those were the sounds he wanted to hear, her happy sighs and squeaks of surprise, her whimpers and whines. He wanted to hear his name on her lips, except as an exclamation, rather than a greeting.

"Perhaps." He breached the gap between them, closing the distance and pressing himself to her back, and her against the worktop, albeit lightly. Testing her reaction. He set his hands upon Chichi’s slim waist, sliding them up, down - not too far from their designated resting point, but enough to get a feel for her curves. Dark eyes lingered upon the nape of the mother’s neck, dilating at the sight. Oh he was not so far gone as to act upon his base instincts, but that did not mean he had no desire to do so…  "How has your day been?" 

Perhaps he could just…his nose touched the curve of her neck, slipping down to the exposed shoulder.

 Chichi gasped as Piccolo’s much larger, powerful body pressed against her back, his hands trailing lightly on her sides.

"Piccolo…" her heart quickened, a barely-discernible scent drifting across her nostrils. It made sense now, the sultry purr, the unplanned nap…this… "It was good," Chichi replied, raising her hands to meet his, holding them on her hips. "Uneventful. Especially since you napped for half of it." She tilted her head back, to the side, a smile of delight tugging her lips as Piccolo’s skin met her shoulder. No doubt then. "You’re extra warm today," she commented, closing her eyes and leaning back against Piccolo’s chest. He was solid, physically as well as mentally. Emotionally. "How was yours?" Chichi opened her eyes and smiled coyly, "what’s on your mind, hmm?"

Her hands squeezed his, once again reminded by the sheer difference in size between them.

He could sense the spike in her ki, that of surprise, and how it did not quite return to what it had been - remaining on a higher level, not much higher, but higher nonetheless, denoting the excitement that coursed throughout her. Piccolo closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, that of fabric conditioner, of her perfume mixing with her own musk. His fingers tightened over her dress, slipping further down the curve of her hips.

"Hmm. Alright." He pressed his mouth to the crook of her shoulder, revelling in the soft, warm flesh. Excitement spiked within his stomach. She was on his mind. She was all that was on his mind, she consumed him, in this moment. “I was…”

His tongue flicked across his lips, before he kissed her throat again, trailing up to her ear. “I was wondering…how you felt…” Gods she smelled good. Piccolo knew her throat did not hold the same significance as his, sexually, but the sight of it enticed him just the same. He was almost glad she was not able to heal as rapidly as he, so he could take pleasure in the sight of his appreciation for it long after he had shown it. “About…having another child.”

The warrior could not help the purr that escaped him, smooth as velvet. “Haven’t you ever thought about it?” His fangs grazed her ear, voice husky. “A child, born of our union…”

  A shiver of delight, anticipation, coursed through her at Piccolo’s words. Oh, how the idea of another baby delighted her! Her heart skipped a beat.

"A baby?" Chichi asked, managing to twist in his grasp and pressing her chest against Piccolo’s solid body. "How do you suggest we make a baby," she slid her hands up his chest, to his shoulders, his neck. Thumbs softly massaged his neck, knowing how such a touch drove him wild. Her actions were light, barely teasing. She needed him to explain a little more before pressing him further, giving in to the sensations rolling around in her stomach. Hell, at the mention of a baby, her very womb seemed to clench!  “Of course I have thought of it… But…” Chichi had not dreamed of it being a possibility. Their biology was just too different - her eyes widened, a thought dawning on her. “Do you mean, you having a baby?” The petite woman’s breath caught, a little miniature Piccolo! Oh, but better behaved, and better at communication. A proper little baby! “A namekian-egg-baby?” Chichi gasped, the idea forming in her mind. “Ohh…” A baby… A baby of their own… “Would…. Would the baby share both of our DNA?” she asked, reaching up on her toes and kissing her husband’s collar bone.

"That’s the idea," Piccolo murmured, breath hitching as his wife stroked the muscular contours of his neck. He tilted his head back, a purr rippling within his chest. A baby. A baby of their own. The very concept of a child, born from their union, was enough to make his chest constrict. Of course, all he knew was that the pregnancy would last a few months - four, if he remembered correctly what Dende said. Four months… His ears pricked, and he realised he had said that aloud. “It would be our baby, would share both our DNA, although it would be fully namekian rather than a…hybrid, like Gohan and Goten are.” Piccolo scooped the petite woman up, sitting her on the kitchen worktop. Coherence had left him, his mind too filled with desire for babies and for her and her alone. He regarded his wife with gleaming eyes. “You want one, don’t you?” the namekian purred, taloned hands pushing up her thighs, past her dress. He licked his lips, warmth suffusing him. “You want mine… my child…”

"Piccolo there are suds - " but Chichi did not finish, a long sigh escaping her as Piccolo’s talons tickled her thighs under her dress. She leaned forward, expression light. "Of course I want a baby. Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to have at least six kids," a wistful sound escaped her, "two half-saiyans has been more than enough, but now that I’m with you…"

Chichi’s muscular legs wrapped around Piccolo’s waist, pulling him closer. The move had the added bonus of shifting her dress higher up on her thighs. A rather seductive expression smoothed the woman’s face, although she did not need it. Piccolo would want her, in his current state, if she wore a garbage bag. “I want a baby. Or two. And you do…” She paused, caressing his neck, “but have you had the same desire…outside of heat?”

Piccolo would not dare lie. A raised eyebrow and the underlying threat of a broken eardrum or two would be more than enough to ensure the truth from her somewhat-conniving husband.

Piccolo paused.

"Of course." He drew back, managing to string together a reasoned argument in his mind; even if his stomach tightened with the admission that she wanted two babies. Two! “I’ve wanted one for a long time - since Goten started elementary.” It was hard, watching the little boy that dared call him ‘Papa’, grow up. His eyes misted over. It seemed like only yesterday when he was carrying Gohan in his arms. So much had changed since then, though.

"I didn’t say anything because…" Piccolo frowned, making a soft noise. Surely he didn’t need to elaborate. Chichi knew he was bad at articulating his own emotions. He was frightened at the prospect of rejection, even though he knew Chichi better than to think she would callously turn him down.

He knew she might have reservations over raising a child who would not look much like her at all - who may very well look entirely different. It was hard enough dealing with the odd looks he received when toting Goten around, as his own. How would it be for her? But she had not hesitated, not at all. Piccolo relaxed, wrapping his powerful arms around the tiny woman and pulling her to his chest. “I’ve had heat cycles before where I had no desire to conceive.” He had been too doubtful. Dark eyes lingered upon her throat, and he leaned in to press his lips against the smooth skin. “Chichiii…” his voice was husky. “I want one.”

"That long?" Chichi murmured, gaze soft and gentle. "Well, Mister," she tilted back her head, allowing Piccolo’s lips access to the flesh of her neck. "We’re financially stable, our relationship is about as good as one could ever hope to have…." She returned the kiss to his neck, lingering just below his jaw bone. "I see no reason as to why we shouldn’t have another little one.”

Her hands cupped his cheeks, and she leveled her gaze with his, “a lot of work, little ones, but I think - I know - we can handle it.” Chichi squeezed her calves and thighs around him. “I guess there’s only one thing left to do…” She purred, walking her index and middle fingers up over his ear. Her next words were barely above a whisper, meant for his ears and his alone. “We have to make a baby," Chichi’s own purr was not the same natural, deep rumbling of which Piccolo was capable, but it tended to do the trick. Her hands dropped down to his neck again, massaging the muscles under his smooth skin.

Namekians fascinated her, even before she and Piccolo had decided to try a relationship. At a glance, the entire species appeared male, but in all actuality, they were more closely defined as an intersex race, sporting organs similar to both human males and females, albeit far from the same thing.

The female organs - ovaries and womb - were located in his neck and chest, creating a sensitivity around his throat that could, at times, be downright annoying and inconvenient. However, Chichi found it to be quite enjoyable.

Her thumbs found two bumps just under his jaw, and a smirk toyed with her face. “Oh, someone’s very into his heat,” Chichi teased, caressing and gently stimulating the glands. They were normally small, hidden. Now, even protected as they were by not only by Piccolo’s skin, but also a thin layer of muscle, they were easy to find, swollen. And extra sensitive.

Piccolo’s eyes dilated at the words, baser instincts taking over what little rationality he had left. “Very well,” and he was about to hoist her over his shoulder before her hands slipped to his throat. A delighted shiver coursed through his body, eyes lidding and lips parting. It never failed to excite him how Chichi was willing to explore the less human aspects of his physiology during intimacy. He had always worried it would put her off, after all, his differences were exactly what struck fear into the hearts of so many - even if they were only superficial. But she seemed to delight in how she could reduce him, with nothing more than a touch, a kiss, to barely more than green jello.

It was more than a little embarrassing that she could break down his steely self-control with such ease. Fortunately, he cared little in that moment, a deep moan reverberating from within his throat when she touched the swells underneath his jaw. The gentle caress prompted his throat to slick, and he had to swallow the fluids that already built up inside his mouth.

"Don’t tease me, Woman.” Piccolo tried to growl but his voice came too soft, more like a purr. He licked his lips again, his fluids glossing them over. They had to move. If they started kissing then and there, Piccolo would end up pulling her to the floor. “Couch,” he grunted, scooping her up and carrying her to the living room, half-frenzied.

He sat down, setting Chichi on his lap, facing him. Dark eyes flicked to the soft mouth parallel to his own, abdominal muscles clenching and causing him to squirm slightly. It was not long after they had started dating that he learned what kissing meant to namekians - that it was a far more intimate act than it was to humans, which made sense considering the… placement… of his female sex organs. Piccolo leaned in, ears twitching as he pushed his lips against his wife’s.

Chichi giggled as Piccolo carried her to the couch, scooting closer to him when he sat down.

He was adorable. Those ears really dispelled any chance the man had of being scary looking, especially when his emerald cheeks were tinged violet. She kissed him, returning the caress of his mouth with a soft embrace from her own.

"I like teasing you," the woman murmured, lidded eyes flicking up to meet his gaze. Her hands continued to massage and stimulate Piccolo’s neck, stroking the swells. She kissed him again, harder this time, turning her head to more firmly attend the warrior’s lips.

Chichi felt butterflies tickling up her torso, fluttering in her hips and stomach.

Briefly, her mind flicked to Goten, but thoughts of the boy were soon dispelled. He was out like a light, exhausted from an afternoon playing with Trunks. It would be hours before he woke.

Pink lips parted, drawing an emerald into her mouth, sucking lightly.  He already tasted differently than usual. Chichi released Piccolo’s lower lip, and adjusted herself on his lap, opening her hips and grinding on him through their clothes. “I can’t believe my big bad husband wants an itty-bitty little baby all of his own,” she murmured teasingly before kissing his neck, lips surrounding one of the little bumps. The replaced hand moved to caress one of the long, elegant ears she so loved.

Chichi’s “big bad husband” was too entranced by the sensation of lips upon his throat to retort. His head dropped back to the soft upholstery of the couch, body sagging and lips parting to reveal gleaming fangs.

"Chi," Piccolo grunted, a low sound escaping his chest at the assault on his senses. His wife was so soft, so warm and so eager. If Piccolo had any strength to spare, he would’ve pinned and ravished her then and there.

However, he could only moan, the sound thickened by the mucus building up in his throat, collecting in his mouth.

The desire to have her child overruled all other trains of thought he had, all logic and reasoning the man possessed. It would mean more than just satisfying his parental whims, it would be the product of their love.

Their child…it would cement their futures together. Marriage was more than a contract, of course, but a baby was what would truly bind them. “I want your child,” he rasped out, a slightly desperate growl escaping him. Gripping the mother’s full hips, Piccolo ground up, up against her, eyes flashing. His voice was a low rumble, roughened by the viscous fluids slicking the inside of his throat. “I want…” Of course he wanted a baby, of course he wanted to have a child, but he also wanted that what she shared with Goku - that link that persisted despite the saiyan’s years absent. “I want to have a child with you, just as Goku has.” Of course he would not compare her past relationship with theirs now, but…it was something that played on his mind. The one thing he had yet to give her, a baby.

Piccolo wrapped his arms around his wife, claws tearing at her dress.

"Piccolo, really? This is tenth dress you’ve shredded this year,” Chichi tried to sound authoritative, but failed; his voice was raw, body taut with lust and passion. Her words came out with a whine, quickly covered by a soft murmur in his ear, and she pressed her lips to his temple. “What do you need to make the baby ours? Biologically.” The child would be just as much hers as his even without her genetics, just as Gohan and Goten were undoubtedly Piccolo’s sons, but… She would be lying if she said having a part in the creation of their baby did not matter to her.

Her hands slid to his shoulders, down to his chest. “I’m getting you back for the dress,” the petite woman added absently, before ripping the cloth covering his muscled, rippling torso from his body.

Chichi pushed him back on the couch, knowing how his heat impacted his strength. It was easy. She smirked, running her hands over his chest, before taking his wrists and pushing his hands down her hips. She allowed the ruined dress to fall from her shoulders, sliding her upper body free from it. Leaning forward again, her face hovered a mere hair’s breadth from his, awaiting his explanation.

  Piccolo licked his lips and let out a moan, writhing underneath her grip. It was futile, and that was precisely what he liked about it. At this stage, the little woman could easily overpower him, and it thrilled the warrior knowing she could; a mixture of apprehension and excitement tightening his gut. Think, he told himself. Think and she would touch him.

"I need your DNA…." he closed his eyes, pulling up some of Nail’s memories. "Anything that contains your DNA. Blood…probably…" Dark eyes, partially lidded, flicked to her throat, widening as his more primal instincts pushed to the fore.

He could see her pulse flickering under the pale, creamy flesh. Piccolo swallowed, the sight was…mesmerizing. Of course, he would never bite her there - it was too delicate an area. Perhaps her shoulder. Her thigh.

He wanted to taste her, to taste their fluids mingling within his mouth. Piccolo could only imagine how delicious she would taste, how magnified the experience of her soft, pulsing and dripping sex against his mouth would feel. A low snarl escaped him, one of desire rather than aggression. “Chichi…”

Chichi tilted her head to the side, lips curling before she closed the incredibly short distance between them.

"I think we can manage that," she murmured, just before claiming his lips.

Blood was probably the most certain option, she thought, pushing harder against him, one hand raising again to caress his throat, to draw shivers from the man she loved by touching each and every sweet spot she had discovered on him. Several years of exploration had allowed her to form quite the mental map of his body. Her other hand remained on his now bare chest.

With each movement of Piccolo fingers, his hips, pressing against her, Chichi felt her rational slipping. It was hard, with such a handsome and - usually - quietly passionate husband, to maintain any level of rationality when lovemaking. Piccolo, as awkward and withdrawn as he was, put just about everything he had into everything he did. Including her.

Making love with him was easy; it came naturally. There was no pressure, not anymore.

The thing about which she was unsure, was the actual making of the baby. It was not as if she doubted that their DNA could actually mesh - namekians never ceased to amaze her - but rather that it could create a viable offspring. Some of her doubt crept to the surface, and she pulled away, “and you’re absolutely positive that this will work?” Chichi asked, biting her lip. After all, how many times had they had sex? Piccolo had never conceived. Was he only able to conceive during his heat? She supposed that made sense. There had been fewer of those over the course of their marriage. The intensity of the cycle had scared her at first, and resulted in her cuddling him and pressing a damp washcloth to his forehead, rather than sex.

Her stomach flip-flopped as she held his dark eyes.

She really did want a baby with him.

A precious, perfect, tiny little namekian egg-baby.

Colour rose to Piccolo’s face, flushing his face, connecting across the bridge of his nose and spreading to the tips of his twitching ears. His entire body felt warm, and Chichi’s touch only inflamed it further; but he could not bear to pull away, to extinguish his raging desire for her. By now, the namekian was well and truly under the influence of his cycle, his hormones screaming out for a child, for her. Several lusty noises escaped him when the petite mother caressed his throat, running her fingertips up and down the tensed lines of muscle; drawing a line from the tip of his chin down to the space between his collarbones, and back up. His tongue pushed past hers, slick with fluid, mouth steaming. It was all he could do aside from sag weakly against the couch and grip her hips, grinding against her.

He could not help the whine of protest when Chichi pulled away, a line of mucus still connecting their tongues. “Chiiichiii,” he groaned, more questions! Well, he knew she was entitled to know about the process, of course, but he barely had the ability to register her words, never mind formulate an answer!

He paused, needing a moment to clear his mind and think clearly.

 ”It will be fine. I’m taking reference from Nail’s memories…and…” Dark eyes slid to the side. “I’ve already spoken to Dende. He said he was conceived with the addition of flower DNA…and…he said if I were to have a child with you, it would be fine.” He was tripping over his words, lacking the usual eloquence he held, but he cared little. Piccolo made a soft noise, hands moving to cup her rear.

Chichi squeaked when Piccolo’s hands closed around her bum, flushing and giving him a look.

"I just wanted to double check," she said, kissing his nose. "Can’t have my strong warrior all down in the dumps at all, y’know!" Her expression softened, and her hand stroked his jaw, tilting his head back. "Well then, let’s make a baby," she purred against his neck, pressing hot lips to his pulse. This time, she made sure to attend to both the left and right glands, licking and sucking on both of them equally, eagerly.

Chichi snuck a hand up to his mouth, her fingers tickling over his slick lips. She did not allow them to slip inside of his mouth, instead returning her face to his, once more tasting his fluids on her tongue.

Piccolo’s voice was thick, as good a sign of his arousal as the sheer amount of the viscous stuff now coating her lips, tongue, dripping down both of their chins. If Dende had said all would be fine, then it would be. The little god had never spoken an untrue word in his life.

That reassurance was more than enough. Chichi made a small noise, her hips twitching as Piccolo ground up against her.

She could feel her panties clinging damply to her body, even the remnants of her dress felt wet. “Get me out of this, and we’ll see about your pants,” Chichi whispered, breaking lips for a moment, a mere gasp of air.

Piccolo’s eyes dilated at the proposition, and he sat up a little straighter. In truth, he would be quite happy keeping the rest of his clothes on if he could spend the next hour between her legs - but then, that would inhibit the process of baby-making. Still, that didn’t mean he could not play for a little while first…

 His hands slid up her back, unclasping the black bra she wore with ease, pulling it away to reveal her breasts. She had become somewhat insecure about her body, the effects of giving birth a second time certainly had left its mark on her body; but Piccolo found it strange that she would find the zigzagging stretchmarks as a source of fault, rather than a reminder of what her body had to overcome in order to birth her beloved children. She should be proud, he thought, tracing the evident scars with a finger.

He cupped her breasts, squeezing and massaging lightly, thumbs running around pert nipples before rubbing and gently tweaking them. He knew what she liked, it had been long since they had first made love.

Piccolo watched his wife for a reaction, smirking as he lowered himself to brush his lips against the flushed peak. The replaced hand slid down even whilst the other continued its teasing attentions, to tear at the rest of her clothes; delving down between her legs to dip a finger in her dripping heat.

"Looks like I’m not the only one affected," Piccolo purred, closing his lips around her nipple and suckling lightly, tongue flicking over it as his fingers caressed between slick folds.

It was Chichi’s turn to dissolve into weak little noises, gasps and short whines sneaking past her lips as Piccolo’s lips and tongue, fingers, stroked and moved on, over, in her.

Her head dropped back, hands holding his shoulders as her husband kissed her breasts. His expert, experienced fingers stroked and touched her in all of the ways he had learned over the years would make her moan aloud, or even scream, depending on the intensity. For now, it was all breathy moans.

Leaning back until her arms were as straight as they could be, Chichi arched her back, her silken midnight hair falling down over her shoulders in a cascade. “Piccolo,” she sighed, gasping, and straightening, pulling his face from her breast, back up to her lips, “I love you.” It was a phrase she said too often, and yet not enough. She could not find the words to describe her feelings for her husband, and thus chose to repeat those three words. “I love you, and I can’t wait to meet our baby…” Chichi smiled, kissing his lips and tasting his arousal once more.

His fingers, slick with her own fluids, were too light on her sex. As she kissed him, Chichi rocked herself against him, moaning into Piccolo’s mouth. Fully naked, she pressed against him, arms tightening around his neck, gasping as his fingers delved more deeply into her, feeling him rubbing inside of her.

She buried her face into her lover’s shoulder, gasping and whispering in his long ears as his thumb and two fingers caressed her body. “Hey… Not that I’m ahh - complaining,” Chichi’s voice was breathy in Piccolo’s ear, “but isn’t this going to -” she paused, closing her eyes as Piccolo eased her back…down…pressing her into the couch.

“Don’t worry about it,” he purred, breath hot against her neck. Not yet, he reminded himself, even as his instincts practically screamed at him to nip, bite, pierce the flesh. Piccolo reined it in, focusing on the delightful feeling of Chichi around his fingers, the throbbing heat of his arousal - both groin and chest - aching for her. The namekian grunted as his wife’s bare legs wrapped around his waist, her feet clumsily edging his pants off of his body.

They should really invest in a larger couch, Piccolo mused to himself, removing his fingers and helping her with the rest of his clothes. Fully naked, burning skin touching deliciously, Piccolo felt a great deal of his resolve slipping. A lavender tongue darted out to taste the sweat beading Chichi’s neck and chest, eliciting a low groan of satisfaction from him, and a sigh from her. He could hear her heartbeat, feel her blood traveling under her glistening skin. Piccolo closed his eyes, nostrils flaring, lips parting.

Chichi squirmed, trying to seek out his sex, knowing it was futile - damn their height-difference! She was barely up to the man’s chest. His tongue on her neck, her shoulder… Her heartbeat quickened, breath catching in her throat. He was going to… She muffled a cry as Piccolo’s sharp fangs nipped at the base of her neck, tilting her head back, eyes fluttering shut.

She remembered the first time he brought up the subject of biting. It had scared her. After all, his canines were as long as her thumb, at least, and wickedly sharp. Surgically sharp. The first time Piccolo had asked - so timid, even stammering over the request. It had been surprisingly gentle, a pinprick. Really, Chichi could remember having more painful vaccinations! Now… Now she relished the sensation, Piccolo’s fangs piercing the delicate flesh of her throat, the trust involving the act… 

Her husband’s tongue lapped at the trickle of blood from the small wound. A smile curled her lips, heart skipping a beat as Piccolo’s mouth traveled from her neck to her shoulder, breast, drawing soft sighs from her mouth.

If this worked… If they had their own baby…

Piccolo closed his eyes, kissing down Chichi’s body, barely holding himself together. Gentle nips and subsequent sucklings left small, reddish marks on her skin. They would darken later, a stark contrast to the color of her flesh. He could not hope to contain the wolfish smirk that spread across his lips as he kissed stretchmarks, kissed lower, delving between Chichi’s muscled thighs. Her legs twitched, wrapping around his head not even a second after his tongue slipped between her folds.

How sweet his name sounded, coming from her lips in high-pitched gasps, breathy moans and ecstatic sighs. He could never grow tired of it, of bringing it out of her in such a way.

Tongue pressed flat, thick up against her, Piccolo slowly slid it up, down, purposefully bypassing the most sensitive area on her sex, tasting the rest of her. He moaned and pinned his ears, pressing his face against his wife, tongue traversing her intimacy. Finally, the tip of his tongue teased over the slick nub nestled within the flushed lips.

Chichi’s thighs tightened around his head, her heady gasps filling his ears. Piccolo’s face was drenched, dripping in her fluids. He moaned again, his own body awake and ready to feel her, touch her. The namekian’s ears twitched.

“C-come here,” Chichi gasped, gripping the back of the couch with one hand and the seat cushion with the other, holding herself on the piece of furniture, legs still gripping Piccolo’s head. She nudged him with a foot, encouraging him to crawl back up her body. “Come here,” she ordered more than begged - it was not in her nature to plead. Piccolo obeyed without a question. The woman’s heart skipped a beat, fluttering at the sight of his emerald skin shimmering with the evidence of her arousal, the reddish tint of his lips and fangs from her blood. Chichi reached for him, the hand on the cushion extending to touch his jaw, coax him up to her. Not that she had any complaints about his choice of ministration, of course. Her husband was a god with that tongue.

Piccolo kept his half-lidded eyes on Chichi’s as he slowly made his way back up her body, swiping his tongue across his lips, his hand following to wipe away most of the remaining fluid. Desire burned in his chest, throat tight and pulsing. Aching.

“What?” he purred, unable to make a more dignified noise with the sheer amount of lubrication filling his mouth and throat. He found himself leaning into the couch to avoid toppling off the edge. His ears flicked, and he tilted his head to the side, impatient and dismayed by the delay.

Chichi, on her back below him, ached for his touch, the feel of him within her, the pounding of his heart in her ear. But this… Today…

“You get carried away,” her breathing was heavy, “and it’s you who really needs the attention, hmm?” Even panting, the mother of two managed to sound sultry, alluring. Her thumb stroked Piccolo’s lips, quickly becoming coated in the slick combination of their fluids.

Piccolo’s eyebrows shot up, any feelings of discontent promptly dashed by the familiar look in his wife’s dark eyes.

“I… suppose,” he swallowed, and his tongue darted out once more to clear his lips of the film of mucus, touching her hand. His mouth did not fully close, allowing her to slip a finger past his lips. He closed his eyes reflexively, relishing the feel of Chichi’s expert touch on his tongue, farther back as she added another, seeking out the most sensitive of places.

A low, strangled sound escaped him. Piccolo wrapped his arms around Chichi’s toned body, his sex pressing against the middle of her thigh. He cared little about it in that moment, too enraptured by the sensations created by her hand.

There was something intensely pleasurable in this sort of intimacy, Chichi mused, delighted as her no-longer stoic husband crumbled under her touch. His lips closed around her fingers - three of them now - tongue curling and drawing her towards his favorite places. A fang nicked her knuckle. On a different day, when they were not attempting to bring a new baby into their lives, she may have been annoyed by the infinitesimal wound. As it were, she was unbothered by the minimal amount of blood that trickled from her finger onto his tongue as she caressed and touched him, feeling the alien-yet-familiar musculature of her husband’s mouth and throat constrict.

She listened carefully to his breath - he could grow so excited that he ended up literally wheezing for air. It was unnerving at times, but Chichi had always attributed it to the placement of his sexual organs - trying to ensure that he did not reach the point of dizziness, as had happened many times in the past.

Her hand and a good deal of her arm was covered in the slick fluid dripping from his mouth. She smirked, pulling her hand away and wrapping both arms around his neck, beckoning him down to her face.

The tangy taste of his arousal was pleasant, electric on her tongue as their lips connected. Chichi’s legs crept up Piccolo’s waist, literally wrapping herself around him she deepened the kiss. She could feel tension rising in his neck, mouth, in the trembling of his lavender tongue. He was close…

Piccolo’s breathe came in short, wheezed gasps around Chichi’s mouth, air hastily inhaled through his nose. He knew Chichi hated seeing him getting out of breath, and tried to more efficiently pull air in and out of his lungs. Tried, and failed, but it was effort that counte - his thoughts were rudely, wonderfully interrupted as a long, shuddering groan spilled from his lips onto hers, his tongue spasming over Chichi’s, his throat constricting in a rhythmic ripple of pleasure. His arms tightened around her body, and he shifted, accidently rolling them both off of the couch and on to floor.

They landed with a bump, Piccolo on his back and a surprised Chichi on his torso. She broke off the impassioned kiss. He whined, but did not protest, head lolling back as he gasped, laughing quietly.

Chichi squeaked as they fell, more than slightly relieved that Piccolo had cushioned her landing. He was heavier than he looked, what with all of that damn muscle.

“Idiot,” she grumbled, blushing and covering her chest reflexively. The woman stiffened as she listened for any signs that Goten had been roused by the sound.

“Goten’s still asleep,” Piccolo panted out, body rising and falling beneath her. She shook her head and sighed, looking down at her violet-flushed husband, expression softening. “Take m’r’n that to wake him up.”

“I know,” Chichi murmured, adjusting her position and flicking her hair out of her face. It fell down over her back and shoulders in raven cascade. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t need to be careful, Mister ‘I’ll-have-sex-in-a-changing-room,’” she teased, shifting her body back before reaching his hips.

“That was your idea,” Piccolo countered, not looking up, breathing heavy. He could feel the heat of her body moving down his own, and he finally managed to bring his head up, eyes glazed.

Chichi snorted, shaking her head. It was not worth arguing over, although it had been all Piccolo. Pinning her up against a fitting room wall, kissing her like that! As if she, a mother of two, would even think of such a thing. The first time, anyway… She put it from her mind, rubbing her palms over Piccolo’s chest and rippling abdominals, reveling in the way his textured skin caressed her body…

Her hand gently encircled his sex, fingers stroking it as she poised herself just above him.

“I… don’t suppose you want to continue…?” Chichi raised a rather seductive eyebrow, watching her husband’s handsome face open at the pleasure created by only her fingertips.

Piccolo nodded, hands reaching for her hips. He moaned as she slipped down over him, fingers tightening on her bum. He held tightly to her hips, fingers pressing against soft flesh, gripping tightly.

“Chichi,” he whispered, timing his movements with hers, groaning as their bodies met in intimacy.

The floor was certainly more spacious than the couch, he thought, the thick area rug as good a cushion as any mattress. Piccolo moaned, his hands sliding up her body, dark eyes reveling in the way her skin felt under his fingertips.

Hips, stomach, breasts, back down to her belly, lower…

Chichi held his wrists, rocking her body against his, bouncing and grinding. She dropped her head back, arching her spine and closing her eyes. She could feel his fingers tightening around her, sense what ever remained of his steely resolve dissolving, his body tightening under her.

Hips in tandem, Piccolo’s fingers roving her lower body, the combination of their sounds - sharp gasps, low moans, breathy exclamations - the sheer closeness of their bodies… Chichi rolled forward, supporting herself and clutching Piccolo’s powerful shoulders. Heat flooded her hips, her sex, belly tingling with mounting pleasure, abdominals clenching in ecstasy. His name spilled from her lips in an only partially coherent cascade, her body squeezing around his, delight flooding her blood. Seconds later, she felt him follow, and was soon bundled against his chest.

Piccolo sighed, rolling onto his side with Chichi held against him, sex retracting and returning to its sheath beneath the pink patch of armored skin. Momentarily, the symptoms of his heat abated, satisfied. Whether or not they would return within the next few hours remained to be seen - he seemed to recall Nail knowing that the dammed yet wonderful condition would end should conception occur - but for now, he was beyond content. Speaking of Nail, it had been a while - no, don’t be ridiculous, he chastised himself. There was no time for such….activities… It was probably Nail putting the notion in his head, damn him. Although it was fun when the other… Piccolo twitched his ears, forcing the thoughts from his head, and returning his thoughts to his beloved wife. Nuzzling her neck tenderly, Piccolo’s lips found the bite he had left earlier, and caressed it lovingly.

“Think it worked?” his voice was hoarse, thick still with his residual arousal.

“Hmmm,” Chichi cuddled closer, closing her eyes as the heat from their nude forms mingled. “I don’t know, but I think we’ll have plenty of opportunities to make sure…” She smiled coyly, tilting her head back to kiss Piccolo’s chin. “I love you,” she whispered.

“And I you,” Piccolo replied, closing his eyes. If only they could remain like this… But alas, his sharp ears could already hear Goten stirring upstairs…

Piccolo x Chichi dribbles are highly desired!