Welcome to Boxer & Rice

Gohan was sitting by a fast rushing stream he had grown up fishing in with his father. He stared at the cool, babbling brook’s churning waters, and shimmering rocks, trying to find the peace which had eluded him for several months. He knew it was futile but he still tried. He was here to make a decision about the future and he couldn’t afford the fog which kept interfering with his judgment.

During the rainy season, the now small brook would overflow it’s banks, battling the granite ravine walls that stood at least thirty to forty feet back from the current flow of the mellow singing water. The now tranquil scene would become a holocaust of fury as the water swept through the steep channel, fighting for liberty, howling it’s rage at being contained to the iron grey sky above.

Gohan brooded on the mental image, thinking that if it had been winter rainy season, instead of the bright warm summer, the water would readily have perfectly echoed his own tattered emotional state.

He had been training Trunks for several months now, only his growing attachment to the younger demi-Saiyajin was leading him well beyond the fondness of a big brother, or the companionship of a best friend. Gohan feared he might get Trunks hurt, maimed, or killed if he couldn’t gain control of his unruly heart, and wayward thoughts. He was deeply afraid that his fixation with Trunks was going to cause him to do something incredibly stupid that he would pay for with much more than his own already heavily scarred body. Losing Trunks would kill him much faster than any Android’s attack if he lost his focus at the wrong moment. He had to get rid of this mental and emotional preoccupation that he was becoming enslaved by and quickly, or he had to continue to stay as far away from Trunks as he could, until the effect of his bright-eyed companion wore off permanently, whichever came first he reasoned.

Gohan shook his head trying to clear the images that plagued him when he thought about Trunks. Images of the lavender haired youth grinning up at him, a feisty smirk on his face as he charged towards Gohan, daring the older man to try and take it easy on him in training ; or of the tears that Trunks cried at the scene of another android massacre, the pain those all too expressive brilliant blue eyes screamed out to Gohan to repair the damage around him, trusting implicitly in Gohan’s ability to solve every problem, or so it seemed.

“Gotcha!” A wiry arm shot out and wrapped around his shoulder, yanking him backwards, and tossing him onto his back, to be pinned under Trunks trim fighting form, before Gohan even realized anyone was nearby. Gohan shifted his weight instinctively to deliver a crushing blow, but identified halfway through the swing that it was Trunks’ voice he had heard, and was Trunks’ face glaring down at him with definite challenge clearly defined in the thin lipped countenance that he wore.

Gohan jerked back mentally at the grim determination, and blatant anger Trunks radiated in palpable waves. “Darn it Trunks don’t do that!” Gohan pushed Trunks off of his chest, leapt to his feet, whirling to glare at his fourteen year old protégé. “Do you understand how dangerous it is to sneak up on me like that?!” He ground out between clenched teeth, trying to stop his limbs from trembling at the image, that rose unbidden, of Trunks, badly injured, by his own hands, flashing across his mind’s eye.

“Well, Maybe if you hadn’t been hiding on me for the past three weeks I wouldn’t have needed to sneak up on you Gohan. Besides I actually tried to get your attention several times before I decided to tackle you. You were so deep in whatever corner of your mind you’ve gotten yourself hung up in, that you obviously wouldn’t have heard a freight train blasting through this little canyon if you couldn’t hear me yelling, hey, Gohan, what’s up?” Trunks snarled back, unfazed by his best friend’s sudden temper.

“So spill it Gohan. You’ve been avoiding me for three weeks now and I want to know what’s bugging you.” the mutinous set of Trunks’ jaw gave testament to how determined he was to get the answers he sought.

“Never mind Trunks. You wouldn’t understand what’s on my mind right now.” Gohan sighed and started to turn away from this temptation, with hopes of retreating from the situation completely in mind.

Trunks followed, resolute in his choice to get Gohan to open up. This wasn’t like him, and he knew that whatever was wrong had to be dealt with, and soon. Gohan wasn’t distant by nature. Something had to be drastically wrong for Gohan to withdraw from everyone like he had, so suddenly, and without explanation.

“I’m not going to let you out of talking to me Gohan, so just spill it and get it off your chest before whatever is bugging you drives you crazy!” Trunks suddenly poured on his maximum speed, jumping in front of Gohan, eyes snapping with anger at being told he couldn’t understand what was seriously wrong. “I’m not a little kid Gohan. Nobody is that lives in this world, and you know it as well as I do.” Trunks voice had dropped an half octave, thrumming like an animal’s warning growl, deep in his throat, as he blocked Gohan’s exit, fists balled and ready.

Gohan glanced sideways at Trunks, not daring to look him in the eye at the moment as he fought down the urge to grab Trunks and kiss him senseless.

“Trust me Trunks, you wouldn’t understand this time. It’s my own problem. IT will stay my own problem. Got That?” Gohan’s tone was harsh and intolerant, but Trunks wasn’t giving up unless Gohan managed to knock him out cold.

“You are the most important person in my life Gohan and I’m not going to let you get by with hiding whatever is eating you alive. You’re mother even called my mother today and asked if you’d been eating at my house. She says you haven’t been eating much when you bother going home. I’m not stupid and I’m not leaving here, and neither are you, unless I get to the bottom of this mess!” Trunks grabbed onto Gohan’s arm, when he sighed, turned and tried to take to the sky, jerking him back down before he managed to get airborne.

“Let go Trunks. I can solve this myself.” Gohan snapped impatiently at his adolescent infatuation. The contact was unsettling, as were the words Trunks had spoken so passionately a moment before. Gohan didn’t know what to make of being the most important person in Trunks’ life, unless he put himself in the roles of surrogate father, big brother, and teacher. He couldn’t believe that Trunks might possibly have the kinds of feelings that he was currently wrestling with, he reminded himself as he flexed his biceps trying to break the strangle-hold Trunks had on his arm.

The glare that the hot tempered, purple headed demi-Saiyajin was leveling on him was enough to make him swallow hard in dread, but he didn’t dare attempt to explain things he wasn’t even comfortable with facing, yet. Trunks was fourteen, and the fact that he was a guy made the situation twice as unsettling, since Gohan had always been taught that he would grow up and marry a nice girl someday. Gohan set his jaw in a similar, stubborn line, as Trunks had, and chose to attempt to glare his younger opponent down.

“You want me to let go Gohan, then tell me what’s wrong! I get the feeling I have something to do with it. So tell me what I did so I can fix it already. I’ll fix it anyway I can. You really are everything to me, Gohan. You’re the only person who can understand me, so please don’t shut me out like this.” The angry tone disintegrated into an emotional plea that ripped at Gohan’s walls as surely as if Trunks had been bleeding from an open wound.

Gohan grimaced as he turned his head away from soulful, bright blue, searching eyes, fighting to keep from crumbling under the weight of Trunks’ words. He knew Trunks wasn’t lying about how he felt. He just wasn’t certain that Trunks would appreciate the knowledge that, to him, being everything, in the form of surrogate father, mentor, and friend weren’t enough for him any more. “Trunks I can’t talk to you about this. I have to get a grip on myself first. OK? When I have things sorted out in my own head so I can find the right way to talk to you about this..”

“So I really am the problem!” Trunks groaned as he realized how frantic his voice sounded. He must have failed Gohan by not being able to turn Super Saiyajin. Maybe Gohan had decided that training him any longer was unnecessary, Trunks agonized heavy hearted. The training had given Trunks the excuse he craved so that he could spend time with Gohan, which he desperately needed. “It’s my failure to make it to Super Saiyajin, isn’t it Gohan? That’s why you haven’t been around to train every day for the last three weeks. You don’t think I can make it do you?” He turned his anger inwards against himself as he mentally kicked himself for not being strong enough to impress Gohan, and win his approval, if not his heart.

He couldn’t hide the disgust that he was directing towards himself from Gohan’s ears. The older demi-Saiyajin’s head whipped around, stunned, charcoal eyes boring into his own.

“Whaa…?” Gohan’s jaw worked reflexively as he tried to find his voice. “You’re so much farther along than I ever thought to be when I was your age…, and you think I’m disappointed in your training?” His voice was filled with disbelief.

The bewilderment in Gohan’s voice gave Trunks a second’s pause as he observed Gohan very closely, noticing the shadows, from too little sleep, that clung to his eyes, dulling their normal shine. Gohan’s hair was rumpled and in disarray, proving that he hadn’t been home in the last few days, nor had he rested, by his disheveled appearance. It infuriated him to see Gohan this tired and worn out and stubbornly trying to fix everything alone as usual. He’d get answers even if it killed them both he silently vowed, his jaw clenching even harder in determined belligerence.

Trunks wondered if Gohan had stopped training with him so suddenly because of his actions? Was there some subtle sign, such as the looks that he must not be quick enough at hiding, that might have tipped Gohan off to his feelings? His emotions were much more involved and complex than those of little brother adoration. Trunks’ mind raced and raged through the many possibilities with his hard pounding heart keeping time.

“Would you listen to yourself for a minute Trunks?” Gohan’s voice slapped him out of his private whirlwind fears. “I can’t believe you are trying to take responsibility for me. This isn’t your problem to try and take over Trunks. Do you understand me?” Gohan shook him by his shoulders hard enough to snap any other person’s neck like a twig caught a hurricane force gale. Trunks looked into those blazing eyes, wanting to ask Gohan if he knew, the worry of what conceivably could happen, holding him silent. Trunks chose to fight back, verbally lashing out at Gohan with every bit of hurt he had inside instead.

“What else should I think Gohan? Answer me that question!” Trunks fists were planted squarely on his narrow hips, his body shaking with the combined pain and fury generated by his recent suspicions that Gohan was specifically abandoning him. His lips drew back in a savage snarl exposing his canines in a fashion reminiscent of fangs. “You just up and vanished without so much as a goodbye three weeks ago, and avoid me completely like I don’t exist for no reason at all. And you expect me to believe that this has nothing to do with my failure as a Super Saiyajin, or, at the very least, with my training in some other fashion..?” Trunks spat the words with more venom than Gohan had thought possible for Trunks to be able to feel.

He almost gasped aloud as Trunks’ lavender hair began to ripple and rise on an unseen current of energy, as if it were being whipped up by a heavy gust of wind. Gohan quickly noted that Trunks’ energy levels shot far beyond anything he had ever accomplished in any of their training sessions, generating the golden hued aura that suddenly shimmered like a thin band of sunlight around his body, as his eyes shifted to that unique green-hued turquoise that denoted a super Saiyajin’s transformation. His hair alone stayed it’s normal, silken, lavender hue.

Oblivious to the shift he was on the verge of making, Trunks continued to roar at Gohan, resentment, dread and heartache whipping through his quivering figure. “I’m not that stupid, Gohan! I know you better than anyone else possibly could. I know you as well as I know myself, maybe even better than you know yourself, in some ways! I mean it when I say you’re everything to me damn you! So stop playing games with me because I’m not going to give you up without a fight!” Trunks was levitating so that he was slightly above Gohan, and semi-crouched over his quarry in a threatening manner, ready to do bodily damage if pushed any further towards the edge.

Gohan blinked at him owlishly for a moment, digesting what Trunks had yelled at him. His gut reaction demanded that he pounce on Trunks and kiss the teenager into mindless submission, even as his mind reeled, and fought back, trying to rationalize the look on Trunks’ face and what it meant.

Trunks eyes widened as realization of what he had just screamed, washed over him. He slapped a hand over his mouth, watching Gohan cautiously, waiting, without breathing, for the explosion he was sure would follow his own volcanic fit of temper. It was too late to take back his words now, so he had to hope for the best. He dropped out of the air, trembling with doubt, and sudden fatigue, all fight evaporating as rapidly as it had overwhelmed him.

Gohan didn’t realize that he had moved to wrap his arms around Trunks until he felt the younger man’s relieved tears on his shoulder. He just held on without a word. Trunks moved to hold onto him tighter, as if losing contact would tear him apart completely. Gohan ran a soothing hand through Trunks’ lavender hair, his chin resting comfortably on top of Trunks’ head, as he contemplated what to do or say next. He admitted to himself that he was completely in over his head with matters of the heart. The only thing he knew for sure, was that he had to try and find some kind of middle ground where he could keep from hurting Trunks and stay sane too.

He felt Trunks shift his weight, and tilted his head so that he could look into Trunks eyes, which were wary, but calm. Gohan secretly wished he could feel half so calm as Trunks. “I’m not letting you go until you talk to me Gohan. I’m never going to let you get by with holding onto secrets.” Trunks flashed a knowing smirk at Gohan, who had caught himself shaking his head in bemusement by the far too observant younger man in his arms. Something in Trunks Eyes seemed to warn that he was plotting something but Gohan couldn’t imagine what Trunks might be up to in a situation that was as awkward as this one.

Gohan had known for a while that Trunks had been forced to grow up a lot faster than he had, and was emotionally as mature as any adult he had ever known. Still, he found himself worrying about what Trunks was, or wasn’t, ready to deal with, especially if it was something he might regret later. Gohan wasn’t even sure what he should or shouldn’t do in this situation, never mind the possibility of regrets later.

Trunks, comprehending the silent war being waged inside of Gohan’s head, made up his mind to force Gohan to choose to accept or reject the offer of his love by reaching up and pulling Gohan’s mouth to his own before Gohan grasped what was happening. He lightly touched their lips together, tempting Gohan to join him in discovering what was between them. A moment’s hesitation passed before Gohan gave in to the feather light touch of Trunks’ questioning lips against his own.

Long suppressed emotions exploded as their lips collided in an ancient dance of instinctual need. Gohan felt his discipline slipping as Trunks molded his body to his own, curling his fingers through his unruly, black locks. It was all the invitation Gohan needed to devour Trunks’ mouth greedily. His discipline began crumbling more rapidly as Trunks made a deep, throaty, pleading noise in the back of his throat, asking without words for even more.

Gohan’s knees threatened to buckle when Trunks parted his lips, inviting a more primal, and intimate embrace. What little ability Gohan had left to reason with was quick to notice that Trunks had obviously decided what he wanted, and wasn’t afraid to pursue it with the same incredible focus he pursued everything that interested him. Being the object of that intensive focus was mind boggling for Gohan, who felt like he was drowning in all the sensations that Trunks was evoking in him, wreaking havoc on faculties already heavily strained by too little sleep and far too many questions he hadn’t been able to answer on his own.

‘Maybe Trunks does know me better than I know myself.’ Gohan thought in a flash of insight at discovering that he and Trunks were both on their knees, still clinging to each other, tongues entwined in a heated battle for supremacy. His mind went momentarily blank as Trunks pulled him down, to sprawl across the top of his smaller frame, on the richly carpeted grassy embankment, enticing him with light nips across his lower lip to participate completely in this new experience.

Gohan went willingly enough, shifting so that he was in a more comfortable position, with Trunks snugly held against his body, his head pillowed under Gohan’s arm. In a flash he was deepening their kiss, and stealing Trunks’ breath away. Gohan couldn’t get enough of Trunks’ lips, but at the same time, he wanted to taste every inch of the sensual youth’s body, starting at his ear, and not stopping until he had nibbled every inch of the lavender teen who was so ardently returning his every touch with his own heated nips and caresses.

Trunks took the initiative away by nipping lightly on his earlobe, causing Gohan to squirm, as newly awakening nerve endings shot every sensation straight to his groin. “Trunks, wait a minu..” Gohan couldn’t get the sentence he tried to form past the rapidly building groan that Trunks was inciting with his tongue flicking across Gohan’s throat in erotic circles, evoking even more arousing reactions to flare through Gohan’s system. A growl startled Gohan momentarily, until Trunks soft chuckle merged with the instinctual sound coming from his own throat.

“Frustrating you am I?” The provocative tone in Trunks voice mesmerized the older man, who looked down, flustered, at Trunks smugly grinning countenance, completely at ease with the fact that he had Gohan against the ropes emotionally, and knew it only too well.

“Damn it Trunks, we haven’t even thought this through yet. What happens afterwards? Have you thought about that?” Gohan tried to reason with his blatantly horny, if inexperienced partner, trying to drum up enough shreds of control to get the upper hand before Trunks had him completely beguiled. “I’m not exactly an expert on this subject either Trunks.” Gohan spoke quickly before he lost his nerve to confess his own lack of dating experience.

“I’m hoping that we can have plenty of time to do lots more of whatever happens right here, in the future.” Trunks whispered tantalizingly in Gohan’s ear, a sly look in his eyes. He nibbled on already hyper-sensitive flesh, generating a deep throated moan from his captivated lover, knowing he was on the verge of winning the fight with Gohan’s overblown sense of propriety. “Wouldn’t that be you’re first choice Gohan?” Trunks whispered as he ran a hand down Gohan’s lower back, gripping the tunic fabric lightly, as he nuzzled closer. “I think we can figure out things together if we both just trust ourselves and want to make each other happy. Don’t you?”

Trunks pulled up on the fabric of Gohan’s gi top, tickling the small of Gohan’s back with his fingertips as he slid the material up, kissing the base of Gohan’s neck, disarming the older demi-Saiyajin completely. With a quick maneuver he pushed Gohan over onto his back and was straddling his waist, in one fluid motion. Gohan gasped, wondering exactly when he had completely lost control of the situation.

Gohan’s eyes slid shut and his mind stuttered to a complete stand still as Trunks lips found their way to his nipples, and his tongue, lips and teeth went to work with enthusiasm. The images of what was bound to happen, combined with the heady feelings Trunks was creating, wreaked havoc on the last traces of society trained protocols that attempted to hold Gohan back.

Instincts raged to the forefront with Trunks newest assault, as Gohan shifted, helping remove his gi top, already caught up in the next expected wave of Trunks’ ministrations, the clamoring sensations that flooded his system sweeping through him like wildfire. His fingers curled in Trunks’ hair impulsively as he shivered, gasping in pleasure as Trunks ran his hands across rapidly heating flesh, quickly followed by his dating tongue.

An answering chuckle tumbled past Trunks lips, as the younger demi-Saiyajin reveled in his moment of victory and wondered for a moment why he hadn’t thought to attempt such a direct assault weeks before. He nipped lightly at Gohan’s well defined wash board stomach, reveling in the hard muscles rippling beneath his touch. His hands already busy with the waist band of Gohan’s pants.

Gohan turned the tables on him without warning, when he released Trunks’ hair, and grabbed onto his waist, twisting his body so that Trunks was again underneath him. “Getting a bit too far ahead aren’t you Trunks?” He grinned down at his pouty lipped tormentor. “I think it’s time I did some of the exciting Trunks, because much more of yours and I’m done for.” Gohan smirked as he spoke, already tugging at Trunks shirt.

“Hmmmmm, promises, promises. But I will finish what I had on my mind first chance I get.” Trunks purred, a wicked gleam in his eyes, as he snatched his shirt out of Gohan’s grip, yanking it over his head, and tossing it to the side. ‘You’re moving too slow old man. I’ll take over again if you don’t start keeping up.” he taunted Gohan mercilessly, wiggling a lavender eye brow suggestively.

“And just where did you learn to be so sassy Trunks?” Gohan teased, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he pinned Trunks’ smaller frame beneath his muscular, and much more substantial form.

“Oh, that’s a secret I’ll keep for now, Gohan. I’d much rather have you figure that one out by yourself. But for the moment, shut up and kiss me.” He drug Gohan down into another mind blowing kiss, before relinquishing control again.

Gohan growled as he took over once again, this time without hesitation. He let his mouth trail across Trunks’ throat leisurely, trailing his own tongue across the hollow planes and erogenous zones that he found and exploited with fierce attention. He had Trunks writhing and panting in wanton abandon as he nipped, sucked, kissed and licked his way from the hollow at Trunks throat to his naval, not leaving an inch of skin untouched, or untasted. Gohan’s palms molded themselves to Trunks waist, just above his hips as his tongue darted into his navel, teasing, tantalizing, and suggestively promising other explorations that pushed Trunks imagination into overdrive.

Trunks hips twitched as he tossed his head in response to the extremely heated yearnings flashing through his body and pooling in his groin and lower abdomen. Gohan hadn’t been kidding when he said it was his turn to inflame passions.

He was going nuts, and Gohan was having a very nice time indeed with insuring that he was a lot hotter than he had ever imagined it was possible to be, and they hadn’t even gotten to the really steamy stuff that Trunks had read about in those magazines his mother had stashed in the top of her workroom closet yet. She had no idea that he had found them of course, and he wasn’t dumb enough to get caught snooping.

He had learned a lot about what went on behind bedroom doors from those magazines, or so he had thought that morning. He was beginning to revise his opinion of what those books had illustrated behind their glossy covers. Either that, or Gohan had been joking when he said he wasn’t an expert at this because the way Trunks felt, he would explode without being touched below the belt and soon.

He felt the snap on his pants release, but was incapable of more than a stammered “Goh.., han,” and a throaty sound of encouragement, as he was freed from the confining material. He looked down through arousal glazed eyes, to see Gohan pausing to look over him hungrily as if he would completely devour him. Trunks shivered in anticipation, longing to yank Gohan’s gi pants off of him and wrap his legs around his waist and beg to get his way if need be.

Gohan glanced up and smiled sensually at the provocative look Trunks was giving him. He tossed the sweat pants he had in his hands aside, not breaking the eye contact, even as his hands returned to skim along Trunks calves lightly, teasing even more responses out of nerves already on fire. He lowered his head and lightly nipped the inside of his thigh teasing as he traveled upwards slowly. Trunks moaned and reached down towards Gohan with beseeching hands. “You like that hmmm?” the silky tone washed over Trunks, a purr ignited in Trunks throat in response.

Gohan was intent upon pleasing Trunks, touching him slowly, watching his every reaction, pushing the teen to the limits of his endurance. To judge by the sheen of sweat and the almost desperate tone of Trunks panting he was doing everything right so far. Gohan was glad that he was succeeding in driving Trunks wild. He wanted this to be something that Trunks would treasure as a memory.

Gohan had let his instincts guide him, and he followed them now back up Trunks thighs, needing to touch and taste every inch of his lavender haired lover, needing to feel what Trunks felt, but knowing that he couldn’t truly feel everything Trunks felt, no matter how annoying it was to have to judge by sight, sent, touch, taste and sound alone. It was too shallow an experience something cried inside of his mind. But Gohan didn’t know how to fill the need to be inside of Trunks mind, so he continued to taunt and tease and delight Trunks in every conceivable way he could think of.

Trunks tensed, gasping, when Gohan’s hand touched his swollen and throbbing manhood. Gohan made a noise of approval as his hand more firmly grasped Trunks’ engorged member causing a throaty cry to spill from Trunks’ lips. Gohan chuckled appreciatively at the heady reaction his fondling induced in his lover. He stroked Trunks as he taunted him by nipping and soothing with his lips and tongue along first one thigh then the other, getting an even more aggressive reaction to his caresses as Trunks thrust upwards. He wrapped an arm around Trunks’ hips as he moved his hand up and down in a slow sensual rhythm fanning the flames of Trunks’ passion while he continued to tease him with slow burning kisses, and erotic nibbles that ever moved closer to his destination.

Trunks was shuddering with anticipation by the time Gohan lowered his head to take his manhood in his mouth. Trunks hands snaked into Gohan’s hair as his hips thrust upwards in silent entreaty. Gohan spoke softly to him, trying to calm the teen who thrashed in the throes of this newly awakening desire. Trunks’ chest heaved with his attempt to gain some control of himself, as Gohan soothed him with words, even as he moved his heavier frame into position to help him hold Trunks down, before he resumed teasing him by twirling his tongue around Trunks’ sensitive head eliciting another broken cry of need.

Gohan admired the muscular hips that trembled beneath his touch, and his straining cock, before once more taking him in his mouth, drawing him deeper, sucking him with infinite care. The sensations had Trunks fighting to not writhe in ecstasy even as he cried out begging for the release he desperately craved. If not for the arm Gohan pinned him down with, Trunks would have thrust in an ever increasing rhythm, seeking relief that the sensations crashing through him pleaded for.

Gohan began to provide the rhythm that Trunks was begging for by pulling back and dipping his head forward again to draw his throbbing shaft deeper into his mouth again, mimicking the thrusts that Trunks, in his inexperience, unintentionally kept fighting to make, in his current, hyper-aroused state.

Gohan was aware of how much Trunks needed release and he took more of him into his mouth with each downward dip of his head. He had to make certain Trunks didn’t choke him, as the teen was well endowed, before he allowed Trunks any leverage to move with him. Gohan fondled Trunks heated sacks eliciting whimpers and moans that excited Gohan and drove him to attempt to get even more heated reactions from the lavender haired boy.

Gohan didn’t pause in his ministrations, shifting so that his hand could continue pumping Trunks’ manhood, while he moved his mouth to lap at the sensitive sacks, circling them with his tongue before gently taking them one at a time into his mouth and sucking on them to enhance the sensations Trunks was feeling. When Gohan again took Trunks’ shaft into his mouth, he allowed Trunks to supply the rhythm he liked, by giving his young lover a small amount of freedom of motion as he moved one hand down and cupped Trunks butt possessively.

Trunks tried to thrust upwards in nearly uncontrolled lust to meet the hot mouth that was tormenting him, and bringing him closer to the edge with ever increasing friction and speed, pushing Trunks to the brink of full euphoric eruption in a matter of moments. Gohan met each short thrust with a quick darting of his tongue around the tip of Trunks shaft before taking him completely into his mouth again. He made sounds of encouragement deep in his throat, adding to the pleasure of his lover immensely. Trunks surged against him, losing control in a shuddering climax that had him screaming out Gohan’s name between ragged gasps.

Gohan swallowed hard as he felt the hot ejaculation hit the back of his throat, though some escaped along his chin to splatter on Trunks’ groin. He bent his head to lap up the last of the carnal offering, giving Trunks another ardent erection in a matter of minutes. Trunks lifted his head as he felt the intense sensations building again, more slowly, but with twice the intensity as he had felt with this first initiation experience. He couldn’t think coherently yet, but he knew Gohan was probably at least half as aroused as he was, and he was still in his gi pants, some small part of Trunks mind reminded him.

“Gohan?” Trunks tried to speak, still gasping for breath even as he felt his lover’s touch soothing, and erotic simultaneously, moving along his body, as if memorizing ever plain and valley of his form.

“Mmmmm?” the sound was more purr than question.

Trunks tugged a bit to get Gohan to raise his head, and look him in the eyes.

“I love you.” The soft smile that played on Gohan’s lips was incredibly sexy and Trunks thought he was going to drown in their dark brown mysterious depths, as something deeper within seemed to shift, floating free within himself.

“I know Trunks. If it wasn’t for that we wouldn’t be like this at the moment.” He moved up along Trunks body, until he could kiss his lover with tender reverence.

“You know you’re still wearing way too many clothes don’t you?” Trunks grinned up at his dark haired half, arms wrapped around Gohan’s neck by the time they broke their steadily more heated kisses for air.

“Depends on one’s perspective. I’m only wearing too many clothes when I decide I’ve had my fill of exploring every inch of you.” Gohan breathed in Trunks ear, sucking on the sensitive flesh to urge another unbridled response from his fair haired beloved.

“Mmhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrr” The irritated tone of Trunks throaty growl caused Gohan to raise up a fraction, unwittingly giving Trunks leverage to move, which he did with elasticity, pushing Gohan over and straddling him. “Oh no you don’t Gohan. I plan on having plenty of time for investigating each other over a long period of time. So you can just save some of your investigating for another day.” Trunks glared down at Gohan, lavender hair swirling in his eyes as the wind blew softly across their skin. With a gentle caress, Gohan moved the overly long bangs out of Trunks eyes, grinning wickedly up at his temperamental paramour, seeing the impetuous gleam that sparkled within his sky blue eyes.

Gohan was transfixed by the sudden onrush of emotions, complex and profound, that he hadn’t been aware of a moment before. He couldn’t break the tenuous, electric contact with Trunks’ slightly glowing eyes. Gohan was jolted by the sudden feeling of being caught in an almost overwhelming emptiness that desperately needed filling to make him whole. The thought slammed through him simultaneously that he was the only one who could fill that emptiness and the image that swirled through is mind so rapidly was of him being filled by,….. himself?

In a flash of dazed insight Gohan realized that he was feeling, and seeing what Trunks felt, instead of his own emotions, or thoughts, although the sensations were so powerful it was easy to mistake Trunks’ emotions for his own, in the crazy whirlwind that was currently his mind.

The thing that immediately allowed Gohan to differentiate between his and Trunks emotions, was the intricate texture of the younger demi-Saiyajin’s mind. Gohan had always stifled his Saiyajin nature to please his mother, while Trunks had always been allowed his Saiyajin based instinctual heritage, with the exception of fighting. Bulma had always found ways to help him focus his instinctual fighting spirit into more positive channels instead of trying to make him completely give up all of his instinctual Saiyajin attitudes and activities, unlike his own mother ChiChi.

Trunks smirked at him as he picked up on the train of Gohan’s thoughts. “You know it’s never to late to stop denying who and what you are. She can’t run your life forever, my own.”

“What? How?” Gohan stuttered a bit confusion evident in his expression.

“I can hear your thoughts just as you can hear mine once you figure out who’s thinking what.” Trunks leaned down and nipped the tip of Gohan’s nose affectionately.

“Oh. Um well, gosh. I guess I get to figure out who’s thinking what and fast then don’t I?” he chuckled self consciously, lifting his hand to his head and scratching his head in a most adorable, if goofy fashion.

Trunks leered at Gohan’s nervous antics before lowering his head and kissing him thoroughly, while his hands maneuvered to remove the one object that was still between him and his current goal, Gohan’s pants. He found the pant’s sash, and waistband in record time, and had them both untied in seconds flat. Trunks shifted his weight to make it possible to pull the fabric down off of Gohan’s hips, rubbing his already nude body along his lover’s as he moved.

The slow movements of his hands as he gently tugged at the fabric, heedful of Gohan’s aching cock, confined within. He pulled the fabric down to Gohan’s mid-thighs, stroking lightly with his hands, as he migrated towards Gohan’s boot clad feet. Trunks eyed Gohan’s newly revealed manhood with yearning. Soon enough he would have every obstacle out of the way so that he could give all of himself to the one he loved in the manner he wished.

Trunks locked his eyes with Gohan’s once more, to insure that he could continue to share his thoughts and feelings with his lover, unconditionally. He noticed that Gohan’s eyes had begun to glow faintly, in response to his own mental bridging technique. Trunks knew that he had always had unusually strong psychic powers, as his mother could vouch for with alacrity, as he had repeatedly stopped her from dieing when she had fallen victim to a severe heart attack three years earlier.

He was using his telepathic abilities now to gently force Gohan to accept his Saiyajin nature altogether, as it was the instincts of their fathers’ race drawing the two of them to each other in their mutual need of each other’s strength and emotional rapport.

Gohan was in a quandary over this new development in their sudden, rapidly shifting relationship. He wasn’t quite sure of what to think of the intense images that flashed from Trunks’ mind to his own, although the suggestive nature of the images was better than any aphrodisiac on his already highly inflamed libido. He had never considered that Trunks might be so far advanced where sex was concerned.

It hadn’t been until his nineteenth birthday that Gohan had even considered what went on behind closed bedroom doors, much less tried to get any physical contact of this nature. The fact that Trunks was not only actively chasing him, but in fact had him right where he wanted him, was a shock to the dark haired demi-Saiyajin’s system. He wanted the lavender haired tempter in a desperate way that frightened him.

He felt Trunks every intention like a physical blow, due to the mental link they were now sharing with each other. Trunks wasn’t censoring what he wanted, and what he knew he would get if he was persistent in his pursuit of his goal. Gohan didn’t want to fight what was happening, although he worried he might hurt Trunks unintentionally if not extremely cautious. As they proceeded, especially with the current lack of control he felt he was exhibiting, Gohan was certain that it could become a very real issue.

Trunks, reading his worries, tried to calm his anxieties with his own feelings and emotions. Trunks moved provocatively up Gohan’s body, rubbing every inch of his nude body against him. He caressed Gohan’s lower lip with a finger tip as he spoke, tracing the outline of it’s full, kiss swollen flesh with tenderness. ” I know you won’t hurt me Gohan. You can’t hurt me because I know that you love me and that is all that matters to either of us right now.”

Gohan reached out grabbing Trunks wrist, nipping provocatively on the digit before he pulled it into his mouth, licking and sucking on it in a suggestive manner. Trunks moaned at the image evoking contact, grinding his pelvis reflexively against Gohan’s own arousal, generating a throaty reaction as Gohan reached down and grabbed on to his hips, gyrating against Trunks nude body in reply.

Gohan watched Trunks reactions through veiled eyes, sensing the reactions of the youth, who was so ardently asking to be taken with his every action, that Gohan wondered how much longer he’d be able to constrain himself from taking Trunks up on his wordless offer.

The newly awaking empathic connection between them was staggering his senses, as he was becoming lost in Trunks’ impressions, as well as the passions that Trunks was generating in him, as their bodies touched. His logical mind had become submerged in the tidal wave of physical stimulus, so that Gohan wasn’t certain what he had thought before. He knew that somewhere in the back of his mind he needed to slow things down, but couldn’t recall why, as Trunks maneuvered ever lower along his body, eliciting frenzied responses to erupt along his already overly sensitive nervous system.

Gohan was ready to explode by the time Trunks had worked his way down to his waist, intent upon pleasing his dark haired lover, as well as getting his own needs finally met. Trunks went to work on Gohan’s erect manhood with a vengeance once he had the older demi-Saiyajin flat on his back and helpless to slow things down any longer.

Trunks wanted to be Gohan’s in every way, no matter what happened in the aftermath of this day’s liaison. He knew that it was meant to be and he was taking no chances of losing this one chance to break the last barriers between himself and the object of his deepest desires. He rose up on his haunches, pinning Gohan with a brilliant stare, pushing the limits of Gohan’s own instincts to break any remaining inhibitions that Gohan might still harbor with his mind. He pulled emotionally upon Gohan’s more primal side, embedding the sense of rightness that was rippling through both of their hearts.

He moved over Gohan, lowering himself onto his arousal. He held back the touch of momentary pain that assailed him intuitively, to that of a slight, momentary twinge of discomfort. The mental link between the two wouldn’t allow the complete blocking of Trunks’ discomfort, bringing Gohan’s concern once more to glaring life.

“Trunks, are you alright? Why did you move so fast damn it?” Gohan raised up on his elbows, reaching out towards his lover, gasping at his beau’s discomfort.

“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me, my own.” Trunks soothed Gohan’s brow with a caress. Gohan’s forehead had furrowed with the strain of concentrating on not reacting too quickly to the blissful heat and tightness surrounding his throbbing cock, until he was convinced that Trunks was in no danger of physical harm, due to his naive and reckless course of action.

He focused on slowing his breathing, trying to regain some semblance of personal control to insure he didn’t move before Trunks was ready. “Why didn’t you warn me you were going to move on to the next stage Trunks? You weren’t prepared for me yet.” Gohan groaned as he thought about how smooth this could have been, had he had thought to let his fingers roam more freely, when he’d had the chance, during his exploration of Trunks’ body. “You really should have let me help,… mmmrrnn..” Trunks silenced Gohan with a long ravenous kiss, moving slowly into an intuitive rhythm, to continue their tryst.

Gohan responded by moving his hands to grasp Trunks’ hips, while his mouth molded to his teenaged lover’s, tongues entwined as they both became lost in each other completely. Each moved in harmony with the other, learning the signals of what the other needed through the mental bond that was guiding them.

Gohan felt Trunks euphoria upon finding an angle that sent pleasure reverberating throughout his trim, muscular form. Gohan quickly focused his being on making certain that Trunks continued to feel the heated rush of newly discovered feelings washing through his intoxicated body, moving both of them into a new position that stabilized the angle of his thrusts for the maximum pleasure he could bring.

Gohan held onto Trunks securely, once he was up on his knees, Trunks legs wrapped around his waist, his arms moving to the small of Trunks back, arching his passionate young lover into an even more intensely erotic position. Trunks cried out, with incoherent, carnal sounds that begged for deeper strokes from him immediately after the first impact against that beguiling bundle of nerve endings that begged for more attention.

Gohan answered hungrily, nipping at Trunks’ throat as he moved to the pace Trunks’ emotional state commanded of him, holding back his own almost insatiable need for release, until he felt Trunks’ climax. He took Trunks arousal into his hand and began to move his hand into rhythm with their undulating bodies, sending Trunks over the edge into rapturous abandon, following within moments, generating powerful aftershocks that increased the depth of Trunks’ own completion.

***

ChiChi had waited for three days to find out where Gohan had vanished to. Three days had been far too long for Trunks to have been gone, in search of her wayward son. She didn’t care that he was a grown man and could take care of himself. For all she knew he had gotten into another of his one-person wars with the androids and had been killed.

Bulma had shown up with a million unanswerable questions on her lips, demanding to know what had become of her son, as he hadn’t returned, after promising them both that he would bring Gohan back home before forty eight hours had passed. Trunks was no match for the androids either. Both women had begun to comb the area around the Son residence, hoping to pick up some clue as to where the two demi-Saiyajins had vanished to.

They believed that Trunks would have started his search for clues near the Son residence, as the last time anyone had seen Gohan, had been when he had returned home for dinner, and had slept in his own bed, several days ago. It would be the most logical place to start searching from the Son residence area, since Gohan knew it so well and could probably find many places to reside temporarily.

Gohan knew the basics of surviving, from fishing to wild foraging, from having done so much of it over the years to supplement the family food stores. He had also learned about it from his time training under Piccolo before Vegeta and Nappa had arrived to try and destroy earth and claim the dragon-balls for a wish of immortality. This was one of the major factors that made it such an obvious choice, the two women agreed.

Gohan had been in the position to take refuge in many of the little canyons during storms, and had mentioned several caves over the years, in various areas, which had become temporary shelters during the truly violent storms that hit the region on occasion.

ChiChi, being more familiar with the terrain, had taken the harder routes with a small air-bike. She only needed a small transport, as the larger car or air-car based variety vehicles wouldn’t readily set down in some of the small gulches that she had chosen, from the maps they had perused, to investigate.

Bulma had agreed to sweep the more open and easily accessed parts of the district, where Gohan might have gone to. Both women carried communications gear, and first aide kits, as well as basic staples for camping. They had both packed for three days in the wilderness, Bulma with her capsule house and fancy gear, and ChiChi with the true roughing-it style tent, and such, en-capsuled within one pocket fitting capsule to save space.

Bulma was about to start her second day of sweeping the country side, when a voice that had haunted her dreams for so many years spoke from behind her. “Hello, Woman. I see you haven’t changed very much over the years.”

She whirled, long hair whipping into her eyes as her pony tail reacted like a whip to the force of her turn. “Vegeta?” Her eyes widened at the ghostly apparition of her long dead lover.

“Looking for someone I take it?” he grinned at her through the veils of blue haze that made up his temporal body.

“Trunks and Gohan are both missing and ChiChi and I are trying to find them. Please tell me that you aren’t here because the Androids got them.” Bulma’s eyes begged, even as she took on the tones of a woman demanding that she be given exactly what she wanted.

“The brats are fine so you needn’t have bothered. They’re just imprinting and should be left alone.”

“What do you mean imprinting, and what are you talking about Vegeta?” Bulma demanded suspiciously.

“Unlike you puny humans, Saiyajins require a form of bond that allows the two individuals a viable energy feeding system. You remember how I used to feed you energy don’t you?” The Saiyajin prince smirked wickedly at Bulma, who blushed to her toes at the memory of the incredible nights they had spent together, before the androids had murdered him so ruthlessly.

Suddenly, her red faced embarrassment turned to a look of fury, “You mean to tell me that Trunks and Gohan are, …. are..” She couldn’t force the words out as she stammered in outrage at the thought of her only son having sex with another man. Of course she would have been upset had he had sex with a girl at this point in his youthful life as well, though she wouldn’t have been so blatantly obvious about it.

She stamped her foot in outrage. “Oh when I get my hands on Gohan I’ll,… I’ll Kill him!” She shrieked at the spectral form of her dead lover.

“I don’t think so, Woman. They are imprinting and without that Trunks will continue to stay at the power levels he’s now trapped at. Besides it may be of help to get Kakarrotto’s brat to a higher power level as well so that he can kill those Androids and get revenge for me, and the rest of those foolish humans, who tried to stop their terror before it got a chance to get out of control.” Vegeta folded his arms across his stomach, in a superior fashion, as he floated in front of Bulma.

“That is still no excuse for Gohan to be,.. well you know….” Bulma still couldn’t force her self to say what was flashing through her mind. “Trunks is still a kid Vegeta! He’s way too young to be doing something like that with anyone, much less Gohan of all people! He’s taking advantage of Trunks if he’s, having,… sex with our son” she finally blurted the phrase out after a long drawn out pause.

Vegeta chuckled in genuine amusement. “You still can’t say the word sex without blushing and a lot of stammering in between can you Bulma?”

“Oh shut up you insensitive Jerk! Just because you weren’t raised with any manners doesn’t mean that I have to be such a gutter mouth!” Bulma snapped back, hands on hips, in her own unique battle ready pose.

“I knew there was a reason I miss your nagging at times. You look so much more appealing when you want to attack me, or didn’t you know that?” Vegeta looked at her thoughtfully as he continued to hover just above the physical ground.

Bulma momentarily softened the glare she had leveled on her ghostly apparition’s profile. “Even though you were the most annoying man I ever met in this world, I miss you too Vegeta.”

“Enough of this silly sentimental nonsense. You need to get to Kakarrotto’s mate before she gets herself killed by interfering with Gohan and our brat’s imprinting.” He turned as if to leave, then looked back towards her. “Well what are you waiting for woman? Do I need to give you a written invitation to get into that contraption you use to get from one place to another or what?”

“Oohhrrrhhhhhhhh! Vegeta!” Bulma barked in frustration. “It’s called a car damned you. And I am not Woman! I have a name and you damned well know that! Besides I have no intention of doing anything but helping ChiChi put an end to this craziness you’re talking about between Gohan and Trunks. I’ll make sure that perverted son of a bitch never gets within half a mile of my son again for this Vegeta!”

“No. You’re not going to interfere, at least not if you’re as smart as I think you are. Gohan will be dead soon if you interfere, and so will our brat. So get in that car of yours and lets go now!” Vegeta bellowed right back at his blue haired, surly tempered, mate. “And just for the record, Woman, it was our brat that started the imprinting, not Kakarrotto’s.” He began to move away from the now silent and shocked Bulma with every intention of getting his mission completed before he was forced to return to the realms of the dead.

He was on a very limited time budget, as well as having only a small amount of energy left with which to get Bulma to the correct area in time. ChiChi was too close to finding the demi-Saiyajins in their current quarters, and Kakarrotto hadn’t been in a position to come himself and stop his mate from doing something suicidal. His death by that virus had insured that he was now securely locked behind the Higher realm gates and couldn’t use even the most ghostly of temporal bodies, hence Vegeta had been pushed into volunteering for the job as a favor for his long time rival, and only real friend.

Bulma had recovered, and gotten her car started, and was now chasing after him full throttled, he noted absently, as he mentally scanned the area for the demi-Saiyajins and ChiChi’s ki signatures, trying to determine if there was still enough time to get to the female before she had a chance to be shocked out of her wits by walking into the two males engaged in the act of imprinting. He was reassured by the distance between ki signatures when he managed to locate ChiChi’s energy. They still had time t o stop her from getting herself killed he smiled with certainty as he moved even more rapidly towards his destination.

***

Trunks watched Gohan’s sleeping face with longing. The older demi- Saiyajin’s face was peaceful for once, something that Trunks noted as he looked up at his beloved from the comfort of his chest. He knew that Gohan was no longer in danger of getting ill, as he had been, when Trunks had initially arrived to confront him on his evasiveness, and outright abandonment tactic. Gohan hadn’t been eating or sleeping, in his struggle to control his emotions and his attraction to his youthful student, thinking it was a flagrant breach of Trunks trust in him.

Gohan had begun to deteriorate as he had wrestled with the demons that had plagued him over the lavender haired demi-Saiyajin’s safety and happiness. It had taken Trunks actively forcing the issue of their mutual attraction through a beseeching and submissive kiss, combined with his own natural empathic abilities, to get beyond Gohan’s obsessive sense of propriety, instilled in him by ChiChi before he had been born. Trunks had to force Gohan to eat the first evening they had spent together through the same empathic tactics, as Gohan had continued to struggle with his deeply ingrained sense of what was and wasn’t acceptable behavior based upon his upbringing. Thanks to Trunks youthful vigor and feisty will to fight back with every ounce of wit and wile he possessed, Gohan was back to eating with typical Saiyajin relish, and sleeping without trouble, much to Trunks’ immense relief.

Time was blurred and soft edged, leaving Trunks uncertain of how long exactly they had been languishing on this small, out of the way shelf under an outcropping of granite, that acted as a natural shelter from the worst of the elements, while allowing a perfect view of all sides of the small ravine they had stayed in. All that Trunks was certain of, was that they had eaten on a couple of occasions from the bounty of the little canyon, fishing and foraging from the various wild bushes and trees that were heavily laden with fruits during this time of year. They had been insatiable with each other in almost every conceivable corner of the small canyon that they were inhabiting at the moment as well.

Trunks was aware, in a detached manner, that there had been nights under the stars with a campfire to warm the overhang they were sleeping under, when sleep could intrude upon their passion. Most pronounced, and sharpest focused of all that had transpired, was the knowledge that he and Gohan had been incapable of keeping their hands to themselves in their mutual exploration of their new relationship status. They had explored each other and what each needed to be most fulfilled in may ways, dominating and submitting alike to each other in their love play.

He snuggled in closer to his lover’s chest, inside the sleeping bag he had been carrying when he left the Son residence in search of his wayward mentor, wondering if he dare wake Gohan up the way that he had been contemplating since he had awoken. He had been teased unmercifully by Gohan the night before over his new-found, passionate desire to touch, and be caressed in return, though he knew that Gohan didn’t really mind this newfound engrossment in concrete embraces, and sensual arousal. If anything, Gohan was as bad as himself, neither being able to keep their hands off the other for very long.

Trunks turned so that his back was to Gohan’s chest spooning against Gohan’s larger frame, concentrating on returning to sleep for a while longer in an attempt to push away the impulse to stroke Gohan’s body into wildly heated passion that would lead to another bout of frenzied abandon between them.

Trunks found that he liked the out of control nature Gohan exhibited when he was still more asleep than awake. There was no possibility of barriers between them in those moments, and he showed a lustful freedom that was delicious to Trunks’ youthful senses. Gohan was all unbridled enthusiasm and powerful hunger before he became mentally focused enough to remember to exert his ever present self-control over his own aroused needs, thinking to protect his young lover from some nonexistent potential damage that Gohan believed such raw abandon could inflict on Trunks.

Trunks semi-annoyed thoughts were interrupted by a soft snort from his obviously very awake, dark haired demi-Saiyajin lover. A hand glided across his stomach as Gohan lifted his upper torso over Trunks’ smaller frame to better view his face, as he pinned Trunks hips against his own obvious aroused need. “You like it when I’m out of control huh?” The smirk on his face relaxed Trunks’ suddenly taut, and mortified nerves, even as the growled tone sent a shiver of anticipation shivering through his rapidly heating body.

“You doubt it?” Trunks raised an eyebrow in challenge, twisting his upper body towards Gohan, a hand darting out to taunt an already hardening nipple in flirtatious invitation.

“No, and since your thoughts woke me up to tell me just how much you like me out of control, who am I to argue?” Gohan’s voice rumbled from deep in his chest, a gleam in his eyes, as he swiftly set himself to the task of tantalizing Trunks, embracing his youthful soul mate tightly, his lips plundering without reserve.

Trunks was momentarily stunned by the blatant, forceful hunger in this assault, but quickly recovered, enthusiastic to join in their private erotic dance. Without reserve he surrendered to the heated fervor of his lover’s touch, stroking Gohan’s shoulders and chest as he returned the same ardor that was being lavished upon his own body with his lips, teeth and tongue, anywhere that he was able to reach.

Gohan moved too low for Trunks to taunt with loving nips before he had his fill of his lover’s skin. Infernos erupted throughout Trunks’ nerve endings as Gohan caressed, nipped, suckled and licked his way down Trunks torso, tracking a well traveled, and now intimately known pathway to his destination.

Gohan was merciless in his assault on the younger demi-Saiyajin’s body, quickly reducing Trunks to a quivering mass of need and longing. Trunks was already incoherently pleading for more intimate possession as Gohan prepared him for his entry. Gohan didn’t have to put much effort into the endeavor, as Trunks was blatantly turned on by his every advance and insatiable for more exquisite erotic contact.

As he slipped inside Trunks’ velvety heat, Gohan was shaken by the almost violent manner in which Trunks arched his back to more fully accommodate his entry. A cry erupted from Trunks’ throat, a heady combination of raw, carnal demand and wanton entreaty that incited Gohan to plunge his shaft into his nubile lover’s body with ever increasing fervor.

Trunks met each thrust with his own sensual counters, an arm reaching back to pull Gohan’s lips to his own, wrapping a leg over Gohan’s hip, trying to draw him ever deeper, as their tongues dueled for dominance within each other’s mouths. With quick surety, Gohan pulled the limber youth and himself into a sitting position, exposing their sweat drenched bodies to the cool morning air, and as yet unseen, shocked eyes.

The two demi-Saiyajins moved in perfect time with each other, harsh, broken, panted mewling becoming the only coherent sound Trunks was capable of making in this new position, as his head leaned back against Gohan’s shoulder, giving complete access to his long, slender, sensitive neck and bare shoulders, as well as making exploitable every spot that Gohan had previously learned enthralled Trunks, which he pursued with relentless adoration, as well as seeking out new erogenous zones along Trunks shoulder blades, finding new places to nip and tease with very satisfactory results.

Trunks clung to Gohan with one hand on a thickly muscled thigh, his other arm bent back so that he could cup the side of his lover’s face in a reverse embrace as he leaned back against Gohan’s powerful chest. The riptide of sensations that overloaded his lithe form made it impossible to do more than cling to the solid physique behind him whose hands firmly grasping his hips, guided him over the precipice of ecstasy. The intensity of Trunks release acted as a catalyst that drug Gohan into the same rapturous oblivion as they both shuddered, crying out each others names.

***

ChiChi sat on a large boulder in the ravine, eyes staring blindly at nothing, along the edge of the clear babbling brook, as she tried to absorb the full import of the images still burning in her mind’s eye. She had backed away, dazed and in denial, when she had entered the ravine, searching for the source of the outcry that had caught her attention less than half an hour earlier, only to become an unwilling witness to her son, and Bulma’s, making passionate love to each other.

ChiChi shivered in disgust as another outcry echoed off the crevasse walls, a blend of two voices united as one. She put her head in her hands, fighting off the tears of bitter betrayal that threatened to choke her. She drew on that all too familiar sense of self righteous rage that had seen her through so many hard times before to stop the tears, and force herself into action.

It was a rage based upon being left behind by her dead husband. It was fury born of all the times she had learned of her son’s disobedience in fighting with those two detestable machines that pretended to be humans. It was the resentment over Gohan’s lost chance to become the great scholar that she had always wanted him to become, combined with the ire she felt over the ruthless murders continually committed by those same androids, who had cost Gohan his future, in her eyes. ChiChi drew on her sense of bitterness and betrayal as well, forging these emotions as well with all of her hurt, loss, and grief, for the sole purpose of confronting her son about his vile deed. With renewed fire in her eyes, a snarl upon her lips, and a predator’s grace, she squared her shoulders, lifted her head, and stood up, a deadpan expression masking her thoughts, as she prepared to hike over to the granite outcropping and shelf that she had seen the two young men upon earlier.

***

“Blast it woman, would you hurry up already?” Vegeta’s ghost snapped at Bulma as she stumbled for the fifth time in as many minutes, trying to forge her way through the steep, rock cluttered, narrow walled passage that harbored the small main valley floor that Vegeta was so certain she’d find her son in.

“I’m not a spirit, nor do I fly, and if you call me ‘Woman’ one more time I’m going to find a way to make you pay for it, even if it kills me, you damned Jerk!” Bulma thundered back at the vaporous, blue wisp that glared at her impatiently from a few feet away, arms folded with that same classic hauteur that had so irritated and beguiled her in his lifetime, as it did still.

“Well it seems like I have to do everything for you even now!” Vegeta smirked as he vanished momentarily to re-coalesce right before Bulma’s startled nose. With a sure grip, as his upper body took on a more substantial shape, Vegeta pulled her up from her hands and knees, wrapped her up in his suddenly all to solid arms, and blasted up the arroyo before she could utter any sound.

They landed almost immediately inside of the valley, Vegeta panting and losing the solidity of form he had a moment before. Bulma watched in sorrow as his last phantom force quickly dissolved, a smirk on his face and a hollow, unearthly sounding “Keep yourself safe woman. I can wait for you a while longer. Our brat has to grow up some before you join me,” whispering in her ears.

Bulma looked up towards the sky speaking softly to his departed ghost in hopes that he just might be allowed to hear her parting words. “I know you used the last of your power to get me here on time. Thank you, Vegeta. Don’t worry, Trunks won’t get abandoned for a long time to come. I still have to make sure he’s settled and happy before I come looking for you in the afterlife. And I love too, you big jerk.” She grinned impishly as she called out her favorite pet name for her lost Saiyajin prince. Without any further hesitation, Bulma turned on heel and trotted down the valley floor, determined to handle ChiChi’s temper tantrum that was assured to come the moment she found out what their sons had been up to for the last couple of days.

***

Gohan and Trunks were curled up against each other, simply enjoying being together, when they heard a volatile shriek of a voice they both knew all too intimately in the distance. Trunks’ head whipped up at the same moment Gohan’s did. Both turned towards the main entrance to the small hidden valley with identical guilty looks on their faces.

“Oh man. That’s my mom out there, Gohan.” Trunks paled significantly as he spoke.

“Yeah, I thought I recognized the voice alright.” Gohan answered in return, dropping a quick kiss on Trunks’ brow before grabbing the teen’s clothes and tossing them to him. “Here’s your stuff. Let’s go and get cleaned up in the pool. If we hurry we should both be able to get cleaned up before she gets here with whoever it is that she’s with. It wouldn’t surprise me if it’s my mother.”

Trunks nodded and jumped into the air without hesitation, moving rapidly towards the shallow pool, at the foot of the tiny falls, which blocked the tiny canyon off from the rest of the world, at it’s North- West edge.

Gohan sighed in resignation, grabbing his own garments, and their sleeping bag, which he was determined to clean up also, and took to the air immediately on the heels of his teenaged lover. He suppressed a knavish grin at the hentai thoughts whirling through his mind, as he eyed Trunks’ slender frame for the moment they were suspended in mid-air together. Images of prior love play in the water danced erotically across his mind, unedited and explicitly tantalizing.

A soft groan escaped before he could stifle it, gaining him a devious, backward glanced smirk from Trunks over the thoughts he couldn’t hide, even had he intended to. They had landed already, and tossed their clothing and the sleeping bag down, jumping into the cool water to quickly clean up before they were forced to leave their private hide away, as they both were convinced they would be made to do by their respective mothers.

Gohan knew that, although he might resent the fact that Bulma had come looking for her son, he would have done the same thing in her place. Gohan had to remind himself of Bulma’s right to be worried over Trunks constantly, as he fought hard against the erotic images flashing across his mind’s eye, while trying to get cleaned up and get the sleeping bag washed out in haste. With more than a few ideas whirling about his conscience that were definitely Trunks’s added handiwork, however, the exercise in self control was next to useless for the dark haired demi-Saiyajin. Trunks wasn’t about to allow for a temporary break in the mental link between them, and the ideas in Trunks’ head were primal, heady, libido rousing flits of fancy, tailored to delight his paramour’s sensitivities.

“Trunks.” Gohan ground out, trying to keep from succumbing to the horny teen’s telepathic imagery, “Not now damn it. We have company coming, remember?”

“I know, but I can’t help but think about it.” Trunks gave him a sassy grin. “Besides it’s not all my hentai mind acting up Gohan.” He snickered at the older demi-Saiyajin’s rapidly reddening cheeks.

“Alright, alright already. I know I’m not helping matters.” Gohan raised his hands up in the air as if surrendering. “I’ll behave if you’ll at least try to stop giving me too many ideas that I can’t do anything about right now. Deal?”

Trunks leveled a mischievous grin on his dark haired beloved and dropped beneath the surface of the water.

“Darn him.” Gohan groused with a shake of his head. He knew Trunks wasn’t about to make a promise to him that he had no intention of keeping. He tried to catch a glimpse of what Trunks was thinking of doing to catch him off-guard from under the cover of the rippling, swirling, churning waters.

He wasn’t able to get the information he wanted from Trunks mind before Trunks was upon him. With a quick gasp, Gohan went under as Trunks yanked his feet out from under him, using the momentum of gravity and the slippery rock to his advantage.

Gohan came up spluttering a moment later, intent on paying his young fair-haired beau back with a sound dunking or two of his own. He narrowed his eyes and locked in on Trunks’ ki, waiting until the submerged teenager was in easy striking range, moving with the incredible speed that only a super Saiyajin was capable of. He grabbed Trunks around the waist and hauled him up to the surface, levitating so that they were suspended high above the falls, then tossing Trunks into the pool below with force.

Trunks broke the surface, laughing. “Gee Gohan, what’s the matter? Don’t like getting your hair wet?” He teased, an impish grin teasing his full pouting lips.

“Hey turn about ‘Is’ fair play Trunks. You douse me, I douse you, only harder.” Gohan smirked back, his own chuckle floating away on the early afternoon breeze.

“Fine then I get a rematch.” Trunks shot up towards Gohan, still laughing.

“You’re way too slow Trunks.” Gohan quipped as he slipped to the side, years of fighting making the endeavor appear almost lazy in it’s execution.

“I may be slow, but I have a plan to help me dunk you but good this time.” Trunks darted back towards his mentor, clearly having fun. Hearing Gohan laughing without his near-perfect facade made Trunks thankful that he was alive at that moment.

ChiChi watched the laughing duo from close by. Her anger mounted as they battled in mid-air for supremacy over who was to be the dunked, and who was to be the one that insured the loser got thoroughly drenched. She had never seen Gohan act in such a childish manner and she was furious that he was ignoring his responsibilities for a tryst in a small canyon in the middle of nowhere while she and Bulma worried themselves sick over their respective sons.

She walked towards the pool a short distance away, noting that Trunks had dodged Gohan’s attempt to grab him, and was closing on his mentor from behind. He wrapped his legs around Gohan’s waist, as his arms went around Gohan’s shoulders. “I got’cha.”

“Yeah and what do you think you’re going to do now?” Gohan turned his head, still smiling at this rare glimpse into Trunks’ nature. He was enjoying this happy-go-lucky-devilish side, which so rarely surfaced. His young counterpart was often serious, and this rare glimpse of what he might have been like, if the androids had never surfaced, gave Gohan a momentary twinge of deep regret that he hadn’t been able to defeat his most hated enemies years before, freeing Trunks to be the happy kid he should have been.

Trunks nipped his ear sensually in reply, sending shivers shooting through Gohan’s body and inflaming the newly kindled hunger he had only just begun to accept as his own. “Trunks?!” Gohan floundered in mid-air as Trunks teased the sensitive spots on his neck with his tongue.

“You were saying?” Trunks whispered, after exciting a groan from his lover.

“Mmmmmnn. I can’t think …. when you do….. that…. Trunks.” Gohan gasped out in between clenched teeth as Trunks tormented him with delightful caresses, nibbles and kisses.

“Who wants to think when we could be doing other things?” Trunks wicked toned purr tickled his ear, and destroyed the last shreds of coherent thought that Gohan had managed to hang on to before.

With a quick motion, he landed lightly on a large rock outcropping that framed the falls. He reached around to grasp Trunks’ arm and pull him into a position where he could kiss him with all the ravenous hunger that was clawing at his groin once more.

Trunks evaded him with a soft giggle, dropping to the ground, and running his hands along the older man’s ribs, tracing a path from between Gohan’s shoulder-blades, and down his spine with lips and tongue, tracing erotic patterns ever lower on Gohan’s body.

Gohan was panting by the time Trunks reached the nub of scar tissue where Gohan’s tail had been. He understood just how sensitive the area just above their tail scars were, and was quick to take advantage of the highly titillating spot. Gohan’s knees buckled, as Trunks had known they would, when he ran gentle fingers across the supersensitive flesh. Trunks’ hand on Gohan’s hips steadied him as he sank down, trembling.

***

ChiChi was shocked by the things she was witnessing. Her son was being seduced by Bulma’s son instead of her son doing the seducing as she had assumed earlier was the sole case. Trunks was taking the lead in their love play, even though he was a fourteen year old.

Chichi was having as difficult time reconciling the unfolding events happening before her eyes. She would have thought it impossible for a fourteen year old to seduce a grown man, yet here was Trunks doing so, and quite efficiently it seemed. The fact that he was Bulma’s son, and he had been born outside of wedlock, gave ChiChi one more thing to add to her overly long list of things to detest about her dead husband’s cliché of friends.

ChiChi was certain that all of Gokou’s friends had lacked manners early in their marriage, but she had hoped that Bulma Briefs would have taught Trunks to behave in a better manner. ChiChi was unwittingly powering up in a blaze of fury, as she stormed forward, bent on putting an end to what she considered an inappropriate and very unnatural situation.

***

“Son Gohan! How could you?” ChiChi screamed at her son, eyes flashing murderous intentions at her grown son as she stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the duo on the other side of the pool.

“Yipes!” Gohan jumped as if he had been shot with a teaser gun on high voltage. He ducked his head, cringing from the tone in his mother’s voice, wincing guiltily as she glared at him from across the small oasis that he and Trunks had been enjoying the tranquility of for the past two days.

“Uh mom, just calm down.” Gohan tried to forestall the explosion that he saw forth coming. He moved at top speed, scooping up his and Trunks clothing, and leaping back to the shelf that Trunks was sitting on blushing furiously as Gohan’s mother glared daggers of icy venom at him.

When Gohan handed him his clothes, Trunks dove into them as fast as he could, without destroying them in his haste. Gohan was also quick to put on his pants, though he was more concerned with calming his mother’s fury than with his shirt, and so abandoned his young paramour to try and calm his screaming mother down while Trunks finished dressing.

Gohan had decided the moment he had heard, and seen his mother that he would take the full blame for anything that she might think about what she had plainly seen with her own eyes. Trunks was far too young for him by most people’s standards, even if Trunks had reached the legal age of consent by the books. Most youths didn’t actually follow up on the right to consent for another year or two. Those who did, usually chose other youths in their age range, not adults that were nine years older. He knew that his mother was thinking along those lines as she scowled at him with disgust evident in her expression.

“I thought that I had taught you better than to do something despicable like this Gohan! Where on earth did you learn this kind of sick, …” She slashed a hand in Trunks direction, who had landed beside Gohan, head lowered, as subdued by the verbal assault Gohan was taking from his mother, as if he were the only one at fault in this uncomfortable situation. “… depraved andinexcusable behavior from? Was it that bald old hentai Roshi, or that nut case Krillin when you went to Namek?” ChiChi continued haranguing her son at the top of her lungs.

“Mom, Krillin and Master Roshi never did anything sick, or depraved in the time I knew them. They were father’s friends. You should know better than most that they all died trying to save our world from the Androids, so don’t you dare disrespect Krillin around me.” Gohan didn’t raise his voice, but the tone he used was almost as frigid as ChiChi’s.

“Well someone taught you two some pretty twisted things, and I know it sure as hell wasn’t me that taught you to sleep with another man, much less a boy!” The black haired termagant shot back, red fire shimmering around her body as she continued to power up, her ire growing with every word she said. “Maybe it was that green demon freak that stole you from me when you were a baby. You never did say much about what happened in the year you were gone. You made it sound like he basically tossed you in the middle of nowhere with a sword and told you learn to rough it or starve.”

Gohan’s jaw twitched in anger. He fought down the urge to break something violently over this latest spate of vitriol that his mother was unloading on Piccolo’s memory. “You’re dead wrong about Piccolo and always were. You always judged him by the color of his skin, and your anger at his trying to teach me to fight so we had a descent chance to save this world, and you know it as well as I do.”

Bulma dog trotted into view at that moment, sweat drenched, rumpled sweat shirt showing that she had been in a very big rush to get to the group before the fireworks really got started. “ChiChi, stop.” Bulma bellowed at her long time friend, and at one time, fiercest rival. Blue hair hung in damp wisps that had escaped her pony tail. She panted, trying to get enough air to blurt out the information she needed to tell ChiChi before the headstrong brunette did something that would provoke Gohan into a killing spree in defense of her son.

Bulma was quick to note the unusual narrow eyed stare that Son Gohan had locked on his mother, an unheard of thing for the young man. He would normally have been shaking in his shoes, had he been wearing any.

“Don’t you dare tell me to stop Bulma. You have no idea what was going on here when I arrived or you’d be trying to kill these two with your bare hands yourself” ChiChi snapped in outrage at being given an order by her older friend.

“If it’s what I think is happening then I am not only not stupid enough to get myself killed by interfering, I’m going to do everything in my power to shut you up and get you out of here before you set your son off and get a lot of people killed, starting with yourself!” Bulma shouted back at her friend, trying to override her screeching tone.

“Excuse me but I doubt that! These two were having … They were in bed together Bulma! They were in plain site actually. Ooooohh! You know what I’m saying!” The rage in ChiChi’s tone was maniacal.

“So what? You mean that they are imprinted to each other as Vegeta called it.” Bulma shot back, hands on her hips, brows furrowed in a thunderous expression that would have done the Saiyajin No Oji proud, as she stood over the shorter woman, teeth bared in challenge.

“Whaa…?” ChiChi looked at her, repulsed by the idea that Vegeta might have had anything to do with what was happening before her eyes.

Bulma gave her no time to recover as she barked at the shorter woman as fast and furious as she was capable of. “That’s right ChiChi. It’s a trait our husbands carried with them on a genetic level and both of our kids got the genetics for imprinting.” She gasped for breath and continued rapid fire as ChiChi’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Gokou found someone that was strong enough to fit the imprint criteria when he fought with you at the tournament. Vegeta had already lost the person he was imprinted to before he came to Earth the first time. Since he grown when his energy sharing imprint partner died he didn’t have to find another one. That didn’t mean that he never shifted energy to others though. He shifted a lot of it with me while he was alive. It’s a survival requirement of the Saiyajin species.” Bulma was feeling light headed and oddly detached as she spoke. Her tone was almost trancelike, or more like a text book recitation she didn’t remember reading any pages from.

She remembered the few moments when Vegeta had materialized fully to move her through the canyon mouth at breakneck speed and the light-headed, tingling sensation that had slammed through her for a split second as she had been held air borne in his solid, yet spectral arms. With a sudden insight as she continued her barrage of information hurling, Bulma knew beyond doubt that Vegeta had made her an expert on Saiyajin biology somehow, without having uttered a word aloud.

“Wait a minute, Bulma.” ChiChi threw up her arms in a desperate attempt to slow the blue haired scientist down before she became so hopelessly lost that she would never be capable of untangling her thoughts for all the rapid-fire words that were slapping her in the face, without getting comprehended.

“SHUT-UP!” She shrieked so loudly that the canyon walls reverberated with the high pitched tone, loosening rocks in some places.

Bulma stopped, taking the moment of dead silence to get a breath of air into her starved lungs, watching the brunette who stood inside of an energy aura that hummed ominously. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I can’t believe you Bulma Briefs. Our sons are having sex, and all you can come up with is some crazy excuse about energy trading.?” ChiChi’s voice had dropped from the high pitched scream she had been hurling upon the heads of the two demi-Saiyajins standing off to the side. It was now a low thrumming snarl after the painful pitch it had reached before.

“You may not realize it ChiChi, but I bet if I wanted to get really graphic and embarrass you so badly that you wanted to crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of your life, I could explain things in terms you might just be able to understand. It’s not my fault that Gokou was the only man you ever slept with! If you hadn’t been a perfect little virgin bride you might have realized that there is a huge difference between a human and a Saiyajin when it comes to how they perform in bed for one thing!” Bulma spat out, teeth clenched as she tried to force her dark haired nemesis to listen to her.

“Oh sure, that’s some advice coming from a hussy like you!” ChiChi whirled away from the taller woman and leveled her eyes on Trunks and Gohan once more. “Well I see how this all came about. Like mother, like son.” The scathing tone dropped Bulma’s jaw in astonished outrage. In two sentences ChiChi had just declared war on Trunks, without even realizing how lethal a mistake that would prove to be.

“I am no hussy! I only knew two men in my life you purist prude! It’s not my fault Yamacha wouldn’t agree to getting married!” Bulma fought the urge to throttle ChiChi as she forced herself to concentrate on the more important matter at hand. “Look at Gohan real close ChiChi. Tell me that he’s acting like his normal self if you can? You don’t believe me. He’ll kill you if you even think anything stupid that might make Trunks worry.” Bulma fought down her first instinct to slap ChiChi as hard as she could.

“Don’t try to tell me about my son, Bulma. I think I know him better than you ever could!” She turned her head away from the blue haired woman who was so desperately trying to stop her from doing what she believed was best for Gohan, removing him from the situation and insuring that he never had another moment alone with the lavender haired youth who was tempting him.

She noted in a detached corner of her mind that Gohan was watching her every move with an unusual intensity, but dismissed it being part his ever present, deeply ingrained, respectful nature. A look at Trunks, with the same detached corner of her mind, and she admitted silently, that in his own fashion, Trunks was a very lovely youth, and could entice many into his bed if he so chose with ease. ChiChi noticed that Trunks was holding onto Gohan’s hand, almost as if he were restraining him somehow, but banished the thought as ridiculous as quickly as the thought surfaced.

Trunks held tight to Gohan’s hand, pale faced, yet strangely fascinated that his mother knew so much about his father. All of the things she was saying were things which she had never shared with him. It was strange to think that his father had loved someone before his mother. He had been startled by his mother’s declaration that there were vast differences in Human and Saiyajin lovers as well. He had never thought of his mother as having had a sex life before his father had entered the picture, even though he had known that she had been dating Yamacha for a long time before his father had even come to Earth.

Trunks felt the strange way that Gohan was reacting to his mother. He worried about his lover more than he worried about his own safety. He knew that Gohan was in control of himself for now, but he sensed the undercurrents of primal possessiveness that lay underneath the surface of Gohan’s steely disciplined calm. He held onto Gohan’s hand trying to give him added calm, but knowing he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

The thoughts were whirling through Trunks’ head at breakneck speed over the information that his mother had just divulged about imprinting, among the rest of the jumble of facts that she had spouted so quickly. If what she said was from his father, who knew about Saiyajin biology, then he and Gohan were acting in a Saiyajin fashion, based on some form of chemical reaction. His stomach twisted in a knot. He didn’t like that answer. He knew he had feelings for Gohan that were anything but biological in nature.

The biology aspect could explain why he couldn’t get enough of being with Gohan, but it had nothing to do with how he felt. He had felt this way for far too long for genetics to be solely responsible as his mother had made it sound. In short, she wasn’t happy about his being involved with Gohan either, but at least she had found a way to cope with it. He knew that she had chosen to try and find some happy medium, and that involved removing Gohan’s mother from the picture as quickly and peacefully as she could.

Gohan felt as if he were being caged. He didn’t like the feeling. He heard what Bulma said and was aware of everything Trunks thought about the information. He was also aware of how malicious his mother’s fury could be. He had felt the bite of her power when he was a young boy and the black water had been released on the planet by Garlic Jr.

Gohan knew how useless it was to argue with her when ChiChi was furious. Gohan also knew that she was capable of doing damage to Trunks in the state of mind she was in. Gohan watched her carefully, scrutinizing her every move for the attack he knew instinctively would come, irregardless of how hard Bulma was trying to talk her out of venting her bitterness on Trunks or himself. He felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck, his own power levels rising slowly, even as Trunks hold upon his hand tightened sharply.

He still felt obligated to defend Bulma, Trunks and himself from her venomous, verbal assaults before he was forced to hurt anyone. Bulma was right that he would protect Trunks with every fiber of his body, he was shocked to realize as instinct forged it’s way to the surface, submerging his peaceful, loving side in a tidal-wave of over- protectiveness. “Mother, stop it and listen to yourself. You’re too mad and obviously hurt because I didn’t measure up to what you wanted. Take it out on me. Leave Trunks and Bulma alone. I’m the one you have the right to yell at, not them.” Gohan growled in a low tone at his enraged mother as she advanced once again on the younger of the duo, fists clenched in retribution.

She ignored Gohan all together as she stalked Trunks, animosity rippling off her in palpable waves of heat. “You will never get the chance to mess up my Gohan’s head again you little slut.” ChiChi hissed quietly. Trunks winced at the words, but he never got the chance to defend himself as ChiChi lunged, murderous intent lending her power, normally far beyond her limitations.

The kick she delivered to Trunks’ chest knocked him off his feet, winding him. His face had barely registered his surprise before she was on him again, a well aimed fist heading for his throat to deliver a death blow to his windpipe. Instinct saved him as he dodged the oncoming blow, staring in drop jawed amazement at the woman he had called aunt as long as he could remember. He couldn’t attack Gohan’s mother in return without hurting Gohan, he reminded himself sternly, as he rolled once more, gaining his feet as he went. He fought to keep calm and rational, and to convey that he was alright to the man he adored so that Gohan wouldn’t do something that he would regret later.

Trunks crouched in a defensive posture, trying to simply avoid the crazed woman until she had a chance to calm down and return to a more stable mental state, where they could reason with her. He was frightened almost witless, however, when Gohan jumped into the fray, a look so savage upon the older man’s normally handsome face that Trunks barely recognized him. Trunks fell back a few paces trying to conquer his sudden, irrational fear. The possessive, feral emotions that Gohan radiated were deadly expectancy, fused with dark instinctual intention to kill that was so forceful and cruel, Trunks could barely reconcile the emotions with the man he knew and adored.

Something dark, dangerous, possessive and primal had erupted from Gohan’s subconscious, taking over swiftly before he had recognized it’s ungovernable nature for what it actually was. He was caught off guard by these radical instincts as surely as if he had regrown his tail and gazed upon the full moon once again, as he moved between ChiChi and Trunks, menace in every taut line of his body. Eerie super Saiyajin green flickered in the depths of his charcoal eyes, as a low, violence laden growl rumbled up from deep in his chest.

He crouched in a classical battle ready stance before his mother, all civility, and obedience gone, in the wake of his instinctual response to the perceived threat to Trunks’ life. There was no rationality left in Gohan’s eyes as he stalked ChiChi, who suddenly froze in complete shock at having her own son turn on her so ruthlessly and without the slightest hint of remorse or recognition of who she was clearly evident in his mannerisms.

Bulma’s words slammed through her like a jolt of lightning. “Look at Gohan real close ChiChi. Tell me that he’s acting like his normal self if you can? You don’t believe me. He’ll kill you if you even think anything stupid that might make Trunks worry.”

Bulma swallowed her terror, moving forward, talking softly with every step she took as she grabbed onto ChiChi’s arm. Cold dread skittered up and down her spine as she tried to calm Gohan’s building primal rage with soothing words meant to disarm the innate response to the attack on Trunks moments before. Death watched her in the form of Gohan’s eyes. He hadn’t transformed yet, but Bulma could sense the immanent turning point in Gohan’s power levels like a physical blow to her psyche. She had never felt anything like this from the happy go lucky young man she had known since he was four years old.

She had witnessed the Super Saiyajin Transformation on several occasions. She had seen Son Gokou in the Super Saiyajin State, Vegeta, when she had almost been killed by the android attacks on Capsule Corporation, and Gohan’s first change, as well as others during his lone solitary war with the fiendish machines. She would never have guessed the full extent of what Gohan was capable of doing if she hadn’t witnessed it first hand.

Bulma stood paralyzed, as she noted that something was vastly different with Gohan’s transformation. She intuitively understood that this was nothing like anything Gohan had ever done before, as she watched him closely, terror giving her a deer caught in onrushing headlights stare. The flickers of green in his once dark eyes, had become rapid flashes that burst outward, flickering like lightning, then receded with alarming speed. The chocolate colored orbs she knew so well had vanished in a white, emerald lined glow, suggesting an effect that reminded her of super heated metal, such as she had seen in factories that her father had once taken her to as a small child.

Small, jagged bolts of bue-black electricity crackled about the heavily muscled demi-Saiyajin, and vanished as quickly as the green flickers of color that surfaced in his white-hot, glowing, pupil less eyes. Where energy flared about him, his body rippled with muscles that bulged, shifted, then receded back to their normal size, only to expand rapidly once again.

His spiky black locks, stiffened by his radiant power, was somehow growing longer, and if possible, darker hued Bulma’s mind screamed at her, as she fought to keep talking through the constriction in her throat. She was positive that she was going to die, and she couldn’t help but wonder in a vague, disjointed part of her mind, why Vegeta had waited so long to come to her with the information about imprinting.

Had she known about this imprinting requirement long before the actual occurrence could happen so that she could have prepared ChiChi for the eventuality of losing her son, temporarily, or for long term duration, to her own son, another demi-Saiyajin, who was powerful enough to accept and give the kind of energy that their systems required when they were younger.

Having been deprived of such strong imprinting partners when younger, Gohan might in fact have been stunted in his development of power potential, or even in some ways, control of any hidden aspects of his power if there were deeply hidden wellsprings that hadn’t previously awoken before his beginning to imprint with Trunks. She hoped that those moments of exceptional power that he had shown in the past, had nothing to do with such hidden and unknown sources of power, as the realization that losing control as a Super Saiyajin could meant he destruction of Gohan, and everyone close by, including Trunks, herself and ChiChi.

These thoughts flitted across Bulma’s mind as she tried to soothe the black haired demi-Saiyajin with whatever words she could find. “Please Gohan you have got to calm down. Think of Trunks if nothing else.” Bulma pleaded with as gentle a tone as she could manage considering how badly her terror made her voice shake. “You know it would hurt him to see you kill your own mother or me over this. You don’t want that Gohan. You two need each other and I understand that. You’re mother will just have to learn to comprehend that you two have to be together, and she needs time so please let’s all calm down and talk this over like rational, mature people.”

Trunks had gained control over the fear that had settled in his gut. He could feel the uncontrolled nature of the power up Gohan was undergoing, and the black raging of emotions that had been suppressed for the sum of his life. How many times over Gohan had submitted to his mother’s overwhelming need to control his life, Trunks wasn’t certain, but it had led to this moment of explosive, pent up frustration, long forced into dormancy.

“Gohan you have to listen to my mother.” Trunks tried to unsuccessfully gain his paramour’s fierce attention from the objects of his stalking.

“Trunks, be careful please.” Bulma spoke as softly and soothingly as before, yet her tone carried her distinct and overwhelming concern for his safety. “You are the most likely to be able to calm him down son. I just hope that you can do so quickly or we are all toast here.”

“What on earth has gotten into my son?” ChiChi asked ghostly pale, her voice a thready whisper of uncomprehending horror at what was happening.

“He’s acting out of instinct Chichi. The dominant, older aged Saiyajin will always protect the younger, and weaker of the imprinting pair. Once they are fully imprinted it isn’t like this. It’s during the first few weeks that you have to stay out of their way and pray to whatever Gods you believe in that they won’t find any reason to get bitchy with you or anyone else.” Bulma muttered under her breath, for ChiChi’s ears alone.

The salt and pepper haired woman looked over at her older compatriot, stepping back a few steps and taking up a battle ready stance against the green haired scientist, anger blazing in her eyes once more as she hissed with menacing bite, “Well why didn’t you warn me about this a long time ago. I might not have tried to break the two of them up if I had known what to expect here, you know.”

“It wouldn’t have done any good to have warned you even if I had known, ChiChi. You wouldn’t have listened and probably would have thrown an identical fit to the one you’ve had today!” Bulma unthinking of her situation snarled back with equal malice in her voice. She thrust her hands upon her hips, glaring daggers at the younger woman, heedless of the consequences as she fumed over the injustice of having to bear the brunt of her own thoughts, in the form of ChiChi’s accusations.

“What do you mean you didn’t know? If you didn’t know, then how on earth is it that you’re suddenly such an expert on the topic of what’s happening here then?” ChiChi’s fists swept up into a fighter’s ready position, palms facing up, in a classic stance.

“Look I don’t have time to try and explain this right now damn you! So knock it off chiChi before you get us both killed!” Bulma attempted to refocus on the dark haired Saiyajin who had grown considerably larger muscled, and had changed in several obvious physical ways. Before She could do more than note the thicker jaw line, heavier frame, as if his bones had thickened, and heavy muscled mass, ChiChi decided to feint dead away, as she too looked over at her son’s blatant semi-shape changed form.

Bulma was startled out of her preoccupied battle of wills and verbal assaults by ChiChi’s dead feint. She tried to rouse the younger woman, who’s strange glowing reddish hued energy had dissipated from around her when she fell. She sighed in a shallow relief as ChiChi moaned, trying to come around under the influence of the light slaps that Bulma was administering to her cheeks, in the hope of gaining Chichi’s rapid response to the mild abuse to her face.

ChiChi looked up, groggy, eyes rapidly widening in dawning hysteria as they both heard an ominous high pitched cracking, followed almost instantly by a rapidly swelling, deep rumbling as the canyon walls began disintegrating under the pressure of Gohan’s power. There was no place to go for either woman, as neither one could fly, nor had the machinery at hand to escape through the air even had they tried.

Bulma didn’t have to look up towards the area ChiChi’s eyes had already disclosed that the rock was coming at them from. She thought only to cover her head, and pray for a miracle as she used her body to cover over ChiChi’s in a selfless act. It was an action that would never have occurred to her when she was younger, but which had become natural to her in this Android tormented world, as the rock came crashing down.

Trunks moved as fast as he could to try and get to his mother and Gohan’s before the rock could hit them. The two elderly women would be crushed easily by the huge boulders that had broken from the fissures caused by too much of Gohan’s power slamming into their ancient edifices. Those boulders were big enough to do major damage to him, Trunks realized as he flashed through the air, dropping to the side of both women, forcing his own Ki to the maximum he could, trying to brace for the worst impact he would probably every feel in his lifetime.

As he grabbed his mother’s arm, not worrying about whether he broke bone, or dislocated her shoulder in his haste, grabbing as best he could for aunt ChiChi as well. He figured better that she lived and hated him for the rest of his life, than to let her die, causing Gohan a great deal of remorse and grief that he wouldn’t need added to the already immense burdens he insisted on carrying on his broad shoulders.

Trunks had ChiChi’s arm, but hadn’t gotten more than 5 feet off the ground with both women, before the first rock slammed into his left shoulder, with a hellish impact. He wobbled in the air, but managed to stay in flight, trying to focus his Ki into a blast above his head that would clear a desperate path to clear sky above him.

In a strange twist of fate, ChiChi and Bulma, both pulled up as close to his body as he could get them, while trying to zip out from under the avalanche trying to entomb them, were his lifeline, as his anger blazed up at the thought of failing to save the two women, gave him extra energy to throw at the huge chunks of stone that sought to pummel them into oblivion. Among the twisting nightmarish moments of Trunks’ attempted ascent, ChiChi’s arm lock slipped, a large projectile, slamming into his elbow, numbing the arm holding her.

ChiChi tumbled towards the ground, helpless, screaming in panic as the large pieces of canyon wall hurtled towards her, even as she was about to crash amongst the first shrapnel to have hit the canyon floor. Trunks couldn’t allow ChiChi’s death, and turned sharply, diving, Bulma still under arm, trying to reach ChiChi in time, and praying he wasn’t making the biggest miscalculation in his life by doing so.

His mother had said that Gohan was reacting instinctively to protect him from ChiChi’s anger. He hoped that the instinct to protect would extend to getting him out of the mess he was now willingly plunging himself deeper into, instead of getting his mother, aunt ChiChi, and himself killed in a moment of stupidity. “Grab her mom, my arm’s useless.” he shouted as the two rocketed towards the free falling woman.

Bulma’s arm lunged out towards ChiChi, who reached up to grab the proffered arm, gritted teeth the sign of her determination not to lose consciousness in the midst of their plummeting descent amidst the rockslide.

A howl of fury shook the canyon, as black lightning cracked across the trio, deadly in it’s concussions against the strata of flying rock. Trunks sighed in relief mentally, even as he slowed their descent, his mother now gripping ChiChi’s hand in her small fist, both women groaning under the strain to their shoulders as Trunks jerked to a stop amidst the flying debris.

Trunks had to stifle a scream of agony as a bolt of the flaring black energy flashed across his own Ki shield, slipping under his guard, and slicing down from his lower shoulder blade, to partially encircle his waist, like the fiery kiss of a bullwhip. He knew he had to get all three of them out of the canyon and now. There was no time left to worry about Gohan’s welfare, as the older demi-Saiyajin was blasting off enough energy to reduce half the planet to rubble Trunks was sure.

A part of his teenaged mind tried to grasp the immensity of the power he felt radiating like a miasma off of Gohan, and wondered why his lover had never shown this kind of force when he fought with the androids. Gohan could in fact destroy them with little enough effort if he allowed himself to channel this kind of power at them.

The other part of his mind shuddered at the darkness and wrongness that he sensed and thanked whatever Gods had seen fit to make Gohan the self control obsessed person that he was normally. The amount of collateral damage that the canyon was undergoing was enough to make Trunks think of the potential destruction that a city would undergo if Gohan were to use this kind of power, especially as vile as it was.

Trunks flashed up towards the top of the Canyon walls praying he could get himself and his two precious burdens out of the canyon before Gohan completely came unglued. He flitted between the boulders, and as much of the falling debris as he could under the circumstances. The things he couldn’t avoid, he tried to blast apart before they could make contact.

He wasn’t perfectly successful, but he did manage well enough for all that his wounded arm wasn’t very good at focusing his Ki attacks, but he made due with the limitations, as it wouldn’t support weight of any kind at that moment and he had to hang on to his mother, which required the use of his only good arm.

Although what transpired had only taken a few short moments, Trunks felt as if an eternity had flashed before his eyes, from the moment the first cracking sounds had begun to tickle his sensces several minutes before their mothers’ had heard the first ominous rumbles, until he broke from under the last of the sharp rocks that fell to the tiny valley floor below.

Trunks made a rapid dash for the nearest solid ground, well back from the continuing crumbling canyon walls. He put Bulma down who still had ChiChi gripped tightly by the arm. He was in shock, but he couldn’t stop to think about it as he took in the blood stained side of ChiChi’s face with heavy remorse and a growing sense of guilt and horror. If she were dead, Gohan would never forgive himself and would become all the more determined to fight his Saiyajin ancestry.

Trunks knew Gohan would also go out of his way to try and make up for his loss of control by becoming even more obsessive in his self control, possibly locking himself away in such a manner that he would never again be able to get past those internal barriers which Gohan had ever kept his anger and frustration and other negative emotions locked up inside. Trunks looked over towards the quickly rising blackish blue hued bubble of energy that was now detonating against the rocks, ripping them out of the ground and pulverizing them with such ease that Trunks stomach clenched in apprehension.

Had Gohan continued to power up even more? He wondered as he stood, bloody, in a state of semi-shock, panting for breath as he watched narrow eyed at the blue black bolts of energy that flared and retreated with a chilling high pitched whine. He swiped his arm across his drenched forehead, grimacing at the bloody mess that greeted his eyes when he lowered his arm. He would worry about his wounds later. He had to try and stop Gohan before his power got any more out of control.

Trunks dug deep into the core of his being, gnashed his teeth in a mutinous snarl and leapt towards the cliff edge, determined to finish this mess on a calmer note even if it killed him. “Trunks! Nooo!” He heard his mother scream in anguish as he hurtled forward, hoping that he could help Gohan get control again. He didn’t have time to worry about his mother’s attempts to be overprotective of him at the moment. He was part Saiyajin, and was far more powerful than she or anyone else, besides Gohan, could ever be.

He met Gohan just as he made it to the cliff’s edge. Gohan hadn’t been powering up further, merely floating slowly upwards, the internal struggle to regain control over his instinctual rage clearly defined in the ever shifting expressions that flitted across his visage. The act of destroying the worst of the boulders that had been reigning down on Trunks and his two passengers had been the instinct and the man both reacting to pressures from within to protect the ones he loved.

Trunks had already suffered a mild taste of the power that was snaking around Gohan’s form, and wasn’t looking forward to the white hot lash of that power ripping into his body again, but he drew a deep steadying breath and moved in anyway. “Gohan stop! You have to stop now or you’ll destroy yourself and possibly the whole planet.” The bellowed command was almost drowned out by the thundering shrill of power radiating about Gohan’s body.

Trunks hand reached out, grasping Gohan’s shoulder, trying to make himself understood, as agony cut through his frame. He fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him, back down, concentrating everything he could find within himself to the task of helping Gohan get control of the long suppressed rage, frustration and primal instinct that had been denied expression for so long. His mind collided with the pure unadulterated animal hate and fury at being potentially thwarted in his choice of mates.

Years of denial of what he felt, and what he needed to feel whole and complete lashed outward on a current of blazing darkness, seeking revenge against everything and everyone who had ever stifled him. The same dark unacknowledged hatred and rage that was now fully awake and utterly obsessed with protecting the one claim that Gohan couldn’t give up.

Trunks was stunned at the depth in which Gohan’s feelings about him ran. He had never realized how much of an influence he had become in Gohan’s life, if only from his presence bringing some semblance of happiness to the older man. He was also stunned to gain a clear vision of himself as being the center of Gohan’s real dominant motivation for his ongoing, if losing war against the androids. Gohan’s need to save everything to insure that he would have a chance to be happy pole axed the younger Saiyajin.

Gohan had never even admitted to himself that he had been fighting to insure Trunks happiness. He had denied all that he had felt, which he had been taught was less than perfect conduct, until the damn had exploded with a flying kick and an unsuccessful punch volley that ChiChi had failed to deliver to his lavender haired lover’s throat. He had been in denial about many things, including the true nature of his deeper power levels, which he had avoided unleashing out of sheer terror of losing control.

Gohan’s fears had been founded, Trunks knew, shuddering as he focused on helping his dark haired teacher, friend and lover regain control over those dark forces that churned and whipped around their two forms, as Trunks fought the hammering of Gohan’s out of control power with his own brightly hued, but meager, Ki shield.

“Gohan let me help you. We can get control of this if you’ll just stop fighting it and let me help you!” Trunks wasn’t sure if he had yelled out loud, or if he had simply thrown the words at his drowning paramour’s mind, but he knew that either way Gohan had heard him by the other demi-Saiyajin’s reaction. An almost peaceful look graced the dark haired man’s lips for a moment, before being swallowed up by the blatant pain inside of his mind, which Trunks own pain was exacerbating, as Gohan’s black aura took it’s toll on the youth’s rapidly dwindling resources.

In a desperate effort to draw Gohan out of the rage that was consuming him, Trunks melded his lips to Gohan’s, sending out in his emotions all the love he held for the other within himself, hoping that it would save Gohan from this dark wave of energy that threatened to destroy his body as well as his mind.

For a silent, eternal moment, nothing happened, and Trunks began to fear that he wasn’t going to be able to reach the one he loved through all the years of pent up vexation, and inhibitions that had finally reared their heads with such volcanic fury. It took a moment for Trunks to realize that Gohan was tentatively returning the gesture when the older man’s lips began to slowly return the caress.

The black fires raging around Gohan’s body began to lighten, shrinking, as Gohan’s arms gently wrapped around his young lover’s waist, eliciting a sharp, muffled yelp of pain from Trunks, as the open wound and blistered edged surface that Gohan’s lightning bolts had raised across his back made contact with Gohan’s salty skin.

The last of the fire and black miasma vanished from around Gohan, who quickly lowered them both to the ground, panting at the exertion of so much power. His dark features, rapidly shifted back to normal, his face losing the feral snarl of bestial wildness that had so frightened Trunks moments before. Gohan’s face was aghast at the condition Trunks was in, as he looked over the many bleeding gashes, and blisters that Trunks was covered in.

“My Gods, Trunks are you ok?” the unsteady whisper, quivered with depths of emotions that Gohan would not normally have allowed to lace his voice.

“Only if you will be, my own.” the answer was soft as Trunks lifted his good arm and cupped Gohan’s chin in his palm. “I’m always alright so long as I know you’re ok, or hadn’t you figured that out yet?” He smirked at his wide eyed beau, ignoring the pain he was in.

Bulma didn’t move as she watched the bi-play between the two men, cradling ChiChi’s unconscious head in her arms, praying that the other woman would survive the ordeal that they had just gone through. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she looked from the two men now collapsed in a tangle of limbs not far from her, to her new burden, who was bleeding even more profusely than her own son.

Bulma knew she had plenty of shallow gashes, bruises and lumps of her own to tend to, but she needed to see to those who were in worse shape than herself first. She had seen the large sharp projectile that had slashed into ChiChi’s temple, as her son had fought to get them out of the barrage of powdered rock and sharp splinters of rock that Gohan’s power, combined with Trunks own attempted Ki attacks had reduced the huge mass of boulders that had been hurtling towards them, down to.

She hoped that ChiChi would have better sense than to ever push Gohan into a corner again, if she made it through the next forty eight hours. It was obvious that the younger woman was in bad shape, and Bulma wasn’t very hopeful for her younger contemporary awakening for several days, if she ever awoke again.

With a ragged breath, Bulma slowly moved herself out from under the still, lifeless looking form, and grabbed her box of capsules out of her pant’s pocket, hoping that in the insanity of evading an avalanche as well as a super angry, Super Saiyajin, of a form she never wished to see again, that the dinocaps had managed to survive in tact.

She drew a deep breath and clicked the top of the canister, tossing it away from her body, a silent plea on her lips, as the capsule exploded into a medicine kit. She unleashed the postponed breath she had been holding, moving forward on shaking legs to retrieve the things she would need to fix the horrible head wound ChiChi had taken during the last few seconds of their ascent to clear air. It would be a long night once she got ChiChi back to the Capsule Corp infirmary.

***

One month later…

Gohan stood quietly beside the casket, looking down upon his mother’s peaceful face. His Saiyajin instincts, and internal rage had killed her, even if he hadn’t actually touched her in any way. The power that he had unleashed without intention had reduced the little valley that he and Trunks had been residing in, to little more than a jumble of pebbles and powdered sand.

It had been the flying rock that had killed his mother ultimately. A shard had lodged itself in her temple, the tissues around the area slowly swelling until the shard had been forced deeper into her skull, ripping apart tissue and veins. There hadn’t been anyone capable of removing the sharp edged granite stone from her skull, and so they had watched and waited for her to give up the fight for her life, slowly and after a very stubborn battle of silent will, that he would not soon forget. She had lingered in a coma for a little more than a month before giving up the battle. Even in dying, she hadn’t gone down easily. Gohan’s shoulders shook as the full brunt of all that had transpired slapped him once more in the face.

Hind sight is always twenty-twenty had never held such poignant meaning as it did now for the twenty-two year old demi-Saiyajin, as he looked at his mother for the last time he’d ever see her in this world. He silently vowed to make certain that he never unleashed his hidden abilities once more, as he had been vowing almost daily since the tragic day in the valley had unfolded. Tears of silent remorse slipped down his cheek, emotional exhaustion giving his face an unusual pallor.

Trunks’ fingers snaked through his, giving him emotional support as the images flickered and danced through Gohan’s mind of every minute detail of that day’s horrible turn of events. Nobody had blamed Gohan for his reactions, and Trunks had even reminded him that ChiChi’s forcing him to be what he wasn’t was the root of a lot of the uncontrollable nature that had slammed through all of his long maintained walls of control, destroying his ability to choose how he reacted in a moment of blind fury.

His grandfather, Ox king moved up beside the two younger men, putting a reassuring hand on Gohan’s shoulder, “Gohan I know that look. Chichi is happy now. She’s with Gokou, so please don’t blame yourself. She was miserable after your father died, and I think she’s probably a lot happier now that she can be where she wanted to be all along.”

“I killed my own mother, grandpa.” Gohan’s eyes brimmed with tears as he looked at the huge bull of a man who watched him sympathetically. “I didn’t mean to, but in the end, it was my insanity, my loss of control that caused her death.”

He looked at his shorter, lean bodied comforter, fresh pink skin from newly healed wounds, an all too blatant reminder of how close he had come to killing Trunks and Bulma. They hadn’t completely faded from the desperate battle he had waged to get both of their mothers out of the collapsing canyon. “Trunks tried to save her, while I stood by and let them all down.”

“No Gohan. You saved all three of us by destroying a bunch of the boulders that would have killed all three of us. I’m the one that failed. ChiChi would be ok if I hadn’t lost my grip on her arm. My control over my ki isn’t very good yet which didn’t help me blast a big enough path out of the avalanche either.” Trunks ducked his head, ashamed that he hadn’t been quick enough, or powerful enough to stop ChiChi from dying in the end.

Gohan’s arm wrapped around his young lover in an equally consoling embrace as they stepped back from the grave site, allowing the pall bearers to lower the lid, sealing it shut. With a final look at the lovely flower wreaths that were sitting upon the casket’s cover, Gohan turned his head away, unable to watch as they lowered his mother into the ground beside his father.

“I hope that you’re right. I know she’s back with dad at least. That should make it a little bit easier for her to forgive me some day.”

“Don’t worry Gohan. I know she will. You just wait and see.” Trunks flashed a sad smile up at Gohan’s sorrow filled face. “For now let’s just go home and try to get our lives back together. We have a long time to be here Gohan.” Trunks tried to lighten the guilt that surrounded his soul mate in a haze of depression.

Gohan wasn’t suicidal, but he had been extremely quiet, and only with a lot of effort on his part, could Trunks gain a ghost of a smile from his live in beloved. Now that ChiChi was gone, grandpa Ox, and Gohan would be permanent residents at Capsule Corp. thanks to his mother’s bullying of the two despondent men.

Trunks felt a twinge of guilt at feeling a momentary jab of euphoria from knowing that he wouldn’t have to give up Gohan at night, or any time soon, if he could manage to prevent it. They still had to tackle the androids, and survive long enough to kill them once and for all. He just hoped that the next time they met with the vile maniacal machines, Gohan was up to the task, and not still depressed over his mother’s loss.

Bulma walked over, taking Ox by the arm, signaling Trunks to take flight for home. With a gentle tug on Gohan’s arm, Trunks pulled Gohan into the air, heading for home, where he could curl up with him, and ease the grief of this day’s sorrowful events.