The Hobos, Chapter #04
Summary: Mirai Trunks and Gohan have been lulled into a boring and dull existence living their luxurious and sheltered life. After they realized this, find out how they will escape their gilded cage and their ensuing adventures following this peculiar decision.
Author’s Notes: This story is based on an idea proposed by Lord Truhan and developed with help from him! This is a rewritten version of the original story. We hope you’ll enjoy the improved version.
Bright sunlight peeked through fluffy white clouds, drifting lazily past the corporate jet. The sky was robin’s egg blue, one or two shades lighter, then Trunks eyes, Gohan thought. Sky and ground were clearly delineated for a few hours before the vast expanse of the ocean stretched beneath them. Then the clouds partly interrupted the azure surface rippling and tenting with small minute whitecaps. Far above the jet soared the icy cirrus clouds, the only ones higher than the blanket of puffy cumulous occasionally that it flew through.
Inside the cabin, the excitement was palpable to Gohan and Trunks. Perhaps the end goal made the journal far more enjoyable then all the flights before. His heart pounding more rapidly the closer they flew to their goal, the more Gohan couldn’t keep his anticipation to himself. Next to him in the other wide seat, Trunks reached over and squeezed Gohan’s hand.
A playful smile teased at the corners of Trunks lips. Ever present now was that playful yet shy twinkle Gohan missed so much. Likewise, Trunks delighted in the soft depths of Gohan’s bottomless black eyes, no longer dulled by the mundane nature of work.
“I’m quite happy about who we picked for running Capsule while we’re gone,” Mirai said.
“I agree. We were most fortunate to have Ivan Balmer. He’s successfully guided our Eastern Province division for the past fifteen years,” Gohan nodded, turning his hand over to interlace his fingers with his husband’s. The gold band on Gohan’s left hand gleamed brightly in a flash of sunlight, almost laughing the same way it did beaming over the wing of the plane.
“All the strategic plans, as well as the authorizations are in his hands now. Come Monday he’ll preside over the board meetings for the shareholders and we’ll be conducting our own sort of business,” Mirai said.
“I’m also glad because he will keep an eye on Chibi and Goten. He’ll make sure they’ll stay on task and not get too distracted while we’re gone,” Gohan also reminded him.
“Yes, so they won’t be tempted to follow the old saying, ‘while the cat’s away the mice will play’,” Trunks chuckled, raising Gohan’s hand to his lips and kissing the back. Lately when Mirai held Gohan’s hand, he felt the rough skin of calluses catching on his.
Over the loudspeaker came the pilot’s voice, “Mr. Briefs and Mr. Son, we’ve reached cruising altitude. Feel free to move about the cabin.”
“Thank you,” Trunks said, depressing a control on his chair’s armrest.
“Nice timing,” Gohan chuckled, reaching for the buckle of his seatbelt. Letting go of Trunks hand he unfastened it, hearing the responding click from his husband’s belt.
As usual, Trunks lavender hair was fastened into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Those tendrils of hair on the sides he let free to frame his tanned face so perfectly. Some of it fell before his eyes, veiling them in a partly seductive manner. Gohan caught himself thinking such things, and then laughed because only months before such considerations were gone. He now saw Trunks through desiring eyes almost constantly.
“Goten and Trunks sure seemed anxious when we left them at the airport,” Trunks mentioned.
“They’re just excited about going on that extended working vacation, if I know Goten,” laughed Gohan.
“You could just feel them trying to keep themselves from bouncing out of their seats when they were seeing us off. I can’t help but wonder what they’ll do the minute we’ve completed our transition,” Mirai mused.
“That’s something Ivan will have to deal with, not us. It’s such a relief to know that we won’t be sitting at those long tables anymore waiting for someone to ask us if we want tea.”
“Instead someone will be yelling at US not to slack off,” Mirai joked.
“Slacking off, there are parts of that I like. Though one man’s slacking off is another’s idea of relaxation,” Gohan drawled.
“Likewise one man’s definition of what makes hard word is another man’s definition of busywork,” Mirai added to the conversation.
“You’re just getting me to think about all the cleaning, ditch digging, and other manual labor we’d end up doing,” Gohan laughed, brushing his nose to Trunks.
“You love the thought of me hot, sweaty, and half naked, don’t you? As much as I drool at the thought of seeing this gorgeous body of yours the same way?” Trunks whispered, leaning his head close to Gohan’s ear. His hand rested on Gohan’s thigh, rubbing up and down it sensually.
“And we’ll be working side by side together instead of having walls between us. We’ll see as MUCH of each other as we want.”
“No phone calls or computer screens to interrupt,” Trunks sighed with pleasure, feeling Gohan’s hand sliding up and down his own thigh in retaliation.
“I can hardly wait. Perhaps that’s what’s causing this plane ride to be far more enjoyable,” Gohan suggested, turning in his seat to face Trunks more fully.
“Oh, you’re actually ENJOYING yourself cooped up in a plane instead of flying by yourself?” Mirai teased him. He gave Gohan’s muscular leg a pinch, causing his husband to gasp a bit.
“Sounds surprising huh? Yes, I’ll admit readily the flights until lately were just a long stretch of time waiting to be filled. Now, I’m just sitting here next to you wanting to get my hands on you…” Gohan whispered seductively, walking his fingers up Trunks thigh, past his hips to dance over his chest. He unbuttoned Trunks suit jacket to do so, playfully slipping his hand between the silk lining and the expensive material of the salmon colored shirt.
When he felt Gohan’s hand tickling him through the cloth he let out a slight whimper when Gohan’s fingers brushed over the cloth-clad nipple. “I have to admit I’ve thought the same thing…”
Abandoning Gohan’s thigh Trunks slid his hands further up, teasingly brushing over the front of Gohan’s pants before reaching over to unbutton Gohan’s navy blue blazer. With both his hands, he rubbed up and down the material, massaging the muscles underneath. Gohan tipped his neck back into the chair, sighing deeply. “This is one of the advantages of flying in the corporate jet versus on our own power… THIS…”
“You mean me mapping out your sexy body through those designer clothes?” Mirai cooed into his ear.
“That, and the fact one is free to engage in sexual activities miles above the earth,” Gohan purred back, leaning over and kissing Mirai’s cheek.
“You referring to the ‘mile high’ club then?” Mirai bantered.
“The very same,” Gohan nodded, sighing as Mirai caught his earlobe in his teeth and bit it lightly.
“And as part of the initiation into this club, there is the added bonus of taking my time to look at your body, and you to see mine,” Mirai suggested, fingering at Gohan’s buttons.
“A required inspection of the merchandise before the main event?” Gohan laughed, loving the lustful twinkle in his husband’s eyes.
“More that I want to see your body and what our lifestyle changes have done to it,” Mirai urged, slipping the buttons through their holes.
“Ah, a most thorough investigation is warranted then? Do continue,” Gohan moaned longingly, as his fingers danced over the buttons of Trunks shirt.
“Stand up, and let me strip you down, and then you me,” Mirai instructed. He stood up first, extending his hand to Gohan, who took it. He loved the strong tug of his husband pulling him up to stand opposite him. In the bright light of the noon sun beaming through the windows, Mirai finished unbuttoning Gohan’s shirt.
Gohan’s hands brushed against Mirai’s, at the same time removing and spreading the cloth as he tugged it out of his husband’s belt. Both of them shrugged off their blazers, folding them and laying them over the backs of their seats. Gohan then waited as Mirai undid his belt buckle, and then moved back so he could slide his fingers over the tanned leather of Mirai’s belt and do the same.
Mirai tugged his necktie, pulling it off. “I won’t be sad to stop wearing these.”
“Nor me. Mom made me wear them ever since she thought the stupid idea of slicking my hair back made me look good,” Gohan wrinkled his nose.
“What is it with moms and the thought that slicked hair looks in any way except dorky?” Mirai laughed. “The only way I like your hair slicked back is if it’s because I’m making you sweat after pounding you.”
“I concur,” Gohan purred, pushing back the cloth from Mirai’s chest to see the tanned flesh beneath. He unbuttoned his husband’s pants, watching Mirai shimmy his hips and let them drop to puddle around his ankles. When Mirai unzipped his, Gohan braced himself on Mirai’s forearm, stepping out of his carefully. Next, the pants were folded and placed with the blazers that matched. Other items soon joined them.
Gohan feasted his eyes on Mirai’s body, noticing how more defined Trunks appeared. From the creases in his chest to the line running down his six-pack, the ridges were far more apparent. Down from the abdomen to the thighs, then to the knees he traveled his gaze, noticing the roughening skin on Trunks knees. Finally, he finished his visual inspection at the base of Trunks feet, the skin tough and hardening on the bottoms.
Simultaneously Mirai filled his vision with Gohan’s creamy flesh, his mouth watering at the valleys and ridges comprised by his powerful torso. From the washboard flat of his belly, he trailed to the spread of Gohan’s narrow hips, and the flaring of his muscular thighs. Preceding down those gliding muscles on his thighs he noticed the difference in skin color on Gohan’s knees. Long legs terminated in shapely calves, angled with far more definition.
Reaching up Gohan slide his hand around Trunks neck to unfasten his hair tie. Long lavender hair now liberated spilled over his chest and shoulders, partly obscuring and softening Gohan’s view of his husband’s chest. How much more golden would Trunks skin become when they saw the continual light of outdoors. The sun would bake and toast Trunks skin to a lovely tan, and he could already see the improvement from their forays outside.
Trunks hissed in delight to feel rough pads of Gohan’s fingers sliding down his neck to walk across his pectorals. They paused, the callused pads rubbing over his sensitive nipples for a lingering moment. Then Gohan danced his fingers over the ridges of Mirai’s muscles, memorizing each one again. Like a sculptor, Gohan was mapping out his husband’s flesh, but with the rougher hands of a manual laborer. Catching Gohan’s hand Trunks lifted it to his lips, and then kissed the hardening palm.
He licked over Gohan’s rough index finger, sucking it into his mouth. Gohan moaned erotically, wishing it were another part of his anatomy. Now Mirai passed his hands over Gohan’s torso, giving his husband the chance to feel the rough patches of skin catch on his muscles, and enjoy the difference in contact. In his throat, Gohan’s breath hitched, when Trunks dropped to his knees and ran his tongue over Gohan’s inner leg. A gasp escaped his lips at the sensation of his husband’s hot tongue raking over the rough skin covering his patella and femur, bathing it before nuzzling his left knee.
Gohan slipped his fingers into Trunks hair, tugging him up. Blue eyes glanced up at him, hungry and aroused. “My turn,” Gohan growled.
Trunks murmured as Gohan lightly pushed him by the chest and he fell back into the chair. Dark eyes burned with authority now, and Trunks knew it was selfish to worship those callused knees without letting Gohan return the favor. “Mmm, your hard working hands feel fantastic on me.”
“That’s the idea,” Gohan growled, bending down. Spreading Trunks knees apart, he bent to kiss the left, then the right. Resting his head against the headrest, Mirai closed his eyes and concentrated on the delicious softness of Gohan’s lips pressing multiple kisses to his knees. Then he felt his left leg being lifted and his ankle held in a pair of strong rough hands. He yelped to feel hot air and moisture brushing over the undersurface of his big toe. Drawing it into his lips Gohan sucked it briefly, and then moved onto the next.
“Ohh shit,” Trunks whimpered, tossing his head.
“Your feet feel like fine cured leather, Trunks,” Gohan purred, licking the arch of Trunks foot. He rubbed the heel sensually, and then kissed it as well. He couldn’t wait for Gohan to treat his right foot just as sensually, sucking and licking each toe in a pretext of another organ.
“Just wait till it’s your turn, Sexy,” Mirai promised, his voice deepening with desire. Gohan’s ministrations unlocked waves of hot desire, causing blood to pulse to his saiyanhood and push against his underwear, the last piece that they did not yet remove.
“Got to take these off,” murmured Gohan, sliding his fingers in the interior of Trunks legs. Lifting his hips Trunks allowed Gohan to pull his boxers down and off so cool air hit his developing erection.
“Now you,” Mirai pleaded, his voice cracking with the effort to keep himself from coming far too soon. No, there was much more fun to be had.
Gohan pouted slightly, but sat down next to Mirai. Boosting himself out of the seat Mirai then genuflected on one knee before his husband, slipping callused fingers into the boxers so Gohan could lift his pelvis and slide them down. Yet Mirai stopped pulling them at the knees, at the time Gohan set his ass down in the seat again. Blinking at him Gohan asked, “Why are you stopping?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Mirai crowed, then dipped his head. He brushed the tip of his nose to Gohan’s knees, rubbing his cheeks against the rough flesh like a cat marking its territory. Then he boosted both of Gohan’s ankles on his one shoulder, tickling the back of Gohan’s knee so he laughed beautifully.
“Hell that tickles, watch it!” Gohan yelped.
“I can’t help it. I love the sound of your laughter when I touch you there,” Mirai purred. “And THERE…”
“Ohhhh….” Gohan groaned, loving how Mirai licked the ball of his left foot in broad strokes. Each toe he rubbed and dragged his tongue over instead of sucking on them. Rough fingers pressed and kneaded his hardened feet, causing him to hiss and gasp when he finally felt the heat of Trunks breath blowing on his skin.
“Reminds me of how your feet were when we trained all those years ago. Your feet feel beautiful and they’ll continue to become perfect as that silky soft skin of yours becomes a light gold, Gohan. You’ll be even sexier still,” Mirai said in that deep voice that drove Gohan wild. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, feeling Mirai finally relent and suckle his big toes both at once. He wrapped the underwear around Gohan’s ankles, binding them together.
Glancing up Mirai saw Gohan’s dark eyes closed, the long lashes fluttering while he pulled Gohan’s legs apart. He pushed his head between them so Gohan’s knees were on his shoulders. Licking and kissing up the flesh, he used his callused fingers to tease the sensitive inner parts of Gohan’s thighs, causing his husband to moan deeply. Already Gohan’s dark hair reached his collar, curling and spilling in a lovely fashion, he remembered from years ago. He said, “Gohan… you should continue to let your hair grow out like mine.”
“Anything for you,” Gohan promised, glancing down at his husband with passion deep eyes, bottomless and needy.
“And you should sleep in nothing… at all, next to me under the stars,” Trunks commanded softly, blowing on the prominent erection Gohan now sported. Skin strained around the rosy tip, twitching under the assault of Mirai’s breath. Lightly he tickled the underside, before kissing along it.
“Don’t stop,” Gohan whispered.
“Now it is your turn, sexy,” Mirai whispered, ducking out from between Gohan’s legs. Suppressing the urge to grab his hair and pull him down, Gohan merely plotted a suitable sensual revenge. Mirai would not soon forget their plane ride when he was through.
Gohan slid to the floor, on his hands and knees on the thick carpet that covered the cabin floor. Soft in contrast to his hardened and chaffed knees he wondered how much more his flesh would change as their new phase in life together commenced. On all fours, he walked towards Mirai, who sat on his knees and watched him predatorily.
Gohan kicked his underwear free, and then seized hold of Trunks shoulders. Pulling his husband to him, he climbed on trunks thighs to straddle him. He bumped the underside of his cock against the tip of Mirai’s erection, causing him to whine with need. Then wrapping his legs around Mirai’s waist, he captured his husband’s lips in a kiss. Trunks imprisoned him in an embrace, sighing as Gohan’s tongue coaxed and teased his mouth open. Hot breath merged, dancing between them as their tongues glided along one another. Slowly Gohan ground his hips down, pressing himself to Trunks own need.
“Ohhhh,” Mirai groaned, feeling his sensitive cock tip rub against Gohan’s.
“You like that? Feeling my rough hands over every tanned inch of your gorgeous body, Handsome?” Gohan purred, keeping his voice deep and feral.
“Hell yes,” Trunks swallowed hard, bucking his hips up. “I want to be in your lap, Gohan.”
“I think we can allow that,” Gohan whispered, scooting back. Sitting Indian style, he reached for Mirai. Swinging his legs over he sat in the triangle of Gohan’s legs, so their cocks sensually brushed like their tongues had done seconds before.
Together they panted, reaching down and caressing one another’s lengths. Gohan closed his eyes at Trunks grinding down and rubbing him just so. Simultaneously he slid his hands along Mirai’s slick shaft, pressing the rosy tip and rubbing the moisture that leaked over the broad head. Lying back, Gohan felt Mirai balancing on top of him so his erection rubbed against his belly. Bracing his hands on Gohan’s strong chest Mirai rocked back and forth.
“You feel so good there, Gohan,” Trunks whispered, bending down so his hair fell in a curtain around Gohan’s face.
“I want you Trunks… want you now…” Gohan growled, grasping Mirai’s hips in his hands. Holding his wrists Mirai lifted himself and stood on his knees so Gohan’s tip rubbed his opening teasingly.
Mirai reached for the tube of scented lube he’d stashed in his pants pocket. Gohan heard the flick of the cap snapping back and the spurting sound of lube squirting onto Mirai’s palms. Rubbing his hands together and blowing, he warmed the liquid before reaching down to rub his hands on Gohan’s erection.
Gohan slicked his index and middle fingers, and then waited for Mirai to sit on his knees so he could slip his fingers inside. Mirai groaned, loving the invasion of those rough fingers spreading and kneading him in preparation. “G… Gohan… I need…”
“I know… I can’t wait either,” Gohan panted, lifting him reverently. At the same time, Mirai ground down Gohan thrust up into tight heat.
“Ahhhh feels so good,” Mirai sighed, bouncing his hips up and down. Gohan flexed his hips up, finding the rhythm they both loved so much. It didn’t take long for the silver sparks of pleasure to explode along them. Grinding pressure and squeezing flesh wrestled the inevitable result while Gohan reached up to stroke Trunks and knead him to the same place.
“Trunks… I love you,” Gohan ground out, exploding in bliss. Mirai howled the same words, savoring the molten heat bathing his insides, while spurting his own seed over Gohan’s chest. The milky white liquid showered Gohan’s ivory flesh, mingling with the already gleaming sweat. Rolling on their sides, they tangled their legs together and embraced tightly.
“Gohan, I do love you too,” Mirai whispered, kissing his lips lingeringly. Gohan’s fingers smoothed Trunks hair from his face, his eyes sated and misty.
“It’s your turn next,” Gohan smiled contentedly.
***
Blue expanses of oceans stretched for miles around the small island. A warm breeze passed over their cheeks as Trunks and Gohan climbed out of the taxi. Gohan heard the thump of the door behind him, and the sound of their driver’s shoes on pavement.
“Thanks,” Trunks said, climbing out of the cab first. “Just pop the trunk, we’ll get the bags.”
“Here you go,” Gohan said, reaching through the glass partition to hand the money to their driver.
“Thanks,” the driver nodded, accepting the zenni and the generous tip. Outside the car, Trunks already pulled the bags out of the trunk and set them on the curb. Gohan exited the cab next closing the door behind him. Already Trunks had removed all the suitcases, so Gohan waved to the driver.
Each of them grasped the handles on their bags, and easily hefted their luggage. Walking side by side, they set off down the meandering path towards their villa. Its windows peeked out from between the branches of trees with graceful twining branches. Instead of a straight walk, the stone path curved left and right to create a sense of randomness.
“Not much of a workout schlepping these,” Mirai commented.
“Not really. I think we are used to something far more substantial,” Gohan agreed as they reached the front steps. Fishing in his pocket Trunks pulled out the keys. He set his bags down to stick them in the lock.
Gohan stopped to admire the rear view of his husband presented to him. Slowly the door glided open, revealing the marble floor of the entryway. A slightly dusty smell wafted over Trunks nostrils, and he stood for a moment before he felt Gohan’s arm wrap around his waist.
“Been a while, hasn’t it?” asked Gohan.
“Indeed,” Trunks agreed, leaning back into Gohan’s body a bit. Softly Gohan kissed his ear, and gave Trunks a squeeze.
“Bags?” Gohan whispered.
“Yeah,” Mirai whispered his heart pounding. He exited the entryway to grab his belongings, and set them just inside the door alongside Gohan’s. Grasping the brass knob, Gohan swung the heavy oak door shut behind them with a definitive slam.
Glancing about, Trunks wandered over towards a decorative table near a clothes tree. The table held a glass dish into which he tossed his keys, then glimpsed his reflection in the mirror hung over it. From behind, he saw Gohan glancing over his shoulder, and felt his husband gently sliding his hand over Mirai’s.
“Time to stow the bags and unpack. Then we can take a walk and relax a bit,” Gohan suggested, hugging him from behind.
“Sounds delightful,” Trunks nodded.
***
Wandering from stall to stall Gohan and Trunks made their purchases. Their latest stop brought them to the vegetable and fruit stand they had seen in their stroll the day before. A whole symphony of color greeted their eyes in the various peppers, tomatoes, carrots and other fresh produce. As Mirai picked up a tomato, he felt the grit of dirt on his fingers.
“Soon I’ll feel this dirt all day long,” he reflected, reveling in the smell alone as he brought it to his nose.
“We’ve also got green peppers sir,” the woman interrupted.
“And red?” Trunks asked.
“We also need to stop by the butcher’s, Trunks,” Gohan reminded him, standing beside the baskets of nectarines. Carefully he turned each one over in his hands, giving each a small pressure with his thumb. Not sufficient to bruise, but enough to tell assess its ripeness. He remembered doing this for years when his mother sent him to the local village market with their produce to sell each week.
“I’ll take these,” Mirai said, gently placing the tomatoes into the scale for weighing.
“Two pounds for three zenni,” the produce merchant wrote down on her sales slip.
“And the green peppers,” he added.
“I think we can make a nice fruit salad with these, Trunks,” Gohan announced, carrying his basket over. With great care, each piece of fruit was positioned on the scale next as if it were a precious commodity. Indeed, it was, Gohan realized because he was remembering the value of how far a zenni would go.
Once they had selected their items, the grocery vendor tallied everything. Items were wrapped or placed in the cloth bag they had brought with them. Folding out several zenni Gohan handed it over to pay. A smile and nod were also exchanged.
“Over there, across is our last stop,” Mirai said, shading his eyes with his hand. Unlike other days, he let his long hair hang freely around his shoulders. Gohan’s hair reached his collar by now, growing rapidly but still far shorter than his husband’s.
On the crown of his head, Gohan felt the burning heat of the late afternoon sun. Instead of wiping the sweat off his brow, he simply allowed it to evaporate and cool naturally. They would be sweating far more in the future, so he figured it did not hurt to become accustomed to putting up with it. Besides, Mirai saw the sweat as an aphrodisiac. The sweatier, the better.
“Gohan you’re tanning so nicely,” Trunks said, leaning over to kiss him.
“Yeah. Another few days and I’ll be looking less like an office style vampire,” Gohan joked.
“And more like a regular person, make that a person who’s worked outdoors,” said Mirai.
“You’ll be able to work more on that tan today by the pool.”
“Looking forward to that. Ah, here we are,” Gohan answered, leading the way to the butcher’s shop.
Several young men and women moved among the cases that frosted slightly, picking up slabs of meat and taking them towards the rear of the shop to slice them. Mirai advanced to the main counter and grasped one of the paper tags from the number dispenser. Gohan watched as the customer in front of them slipped their hand on the side of the scale before pulling it back. Several pounds of bacon freshly sliced landed on top, pushing the digital reading up to three.
“No worries, I don’t put my thumb on the scale miss,” he teased.
“Sorry, force of habit,” the customer laughed, nervously. Gohan sighed, remembering how some of the vendors would bias their customer’s weights with a thumb strategically placed. However, he was glad to see that sort of corruption was not rampant here.
“Can I help customer 5?” asked the young man behind the second counter.
“Oh yes, I’d like several pounds of sirloin… I mean back cut, two whole chickens, and um…” Mirai glanced down at his list.
“Must be having quite a party?”
“We’re good eaters,” Gohan chimed in.
“No problem,” the man answered with a smile. In the meantime, the woman’s purchases were being wrapped from a long roll of brown paper. The end ripped off with a loud shredding noise, folded around the parcel, before being tied tightly with string. Gohan watched the spool of twine spin as the attendant turned the newly wrapped bundle on its side, then upended it quickly. Most likely, those hands were callused from the fibers of the string.
Once invisible people from behind counters and running to the rears of stores were now quite visible to Mirai. His sharp eyes caught sight of every behind the scenes person, and his mind even reflected on those who he did not see. Just by seeing the great care in the wrapped parcels, or presence of dirt from someone’s hands on fresh produce. Not to mention the strategic placing of meat in the butcher case on beds of green lettuce to lift it off the ice, showing its best side to the customer. It was an art form in itself.
Even catching his reflection in the polished glass or the glossy counter told Mirai the story of how the shopkeepers meticulously cleaned every inch of their store. His mind flashed to his and Gohan’s own cleaning efforts and he smiled. Months before he would not have given it much of a second thought but now he appreciated it.
“There you are, sir,” the butcher said with a smile, handing several wrapped bundles to Trunks. Gohan reached into his pocket and folded out the bills from the cheap plastic wallet he carried.
“Thank you,” Mirai and Gohan said together. They grasped the wrapped packages of meat and carefully placed them in the cloth bags, separate from the other food.
***
Charcoal briquettes tumbled of out a bag into the grill, as Trunks poured them. Gohan poked them tentatively to shift them into position. The smell of lighter fluid filled the air along with a minute amount of smoke. Sulfur and the scratch of a match later caused small flames to lick along them. A large metal cylinder poked over the center of the pile created a chimney, coaxing flames from the carbon.
“All right, that’s started,” Gohan nodded with appreciation. In the small outdoor kitchen, Trunks washed his hands and turned back to the huge bowl. Spinach and other vegetables tumbled about between the two wooden salad forks he used. He smelled basil that he sprinkled and heard the glooping of the vinegar and oil drizzling into the bowl. Oil and vinegar mingled but did not dissolve, though it spread over all the salad components in a glossy sheen.
“A few peppers?”
“Just a few, but not too spicy,” Gohan said. He covered the coals and then turned his attention to a cutting board. He sliced pieces of green pepper, red, and pieces of fresh pineapple. The sharp tines of the shishkabab skewers would soon be busy.
Gohan picked up the glass frosty with condensation to his left, and sipped the bittersweet tang of lemonade. Slices of lemon swirled in the top and he eagerly drank down the sugary concoction.
In the cooler Trunks set the bottle of red and the bottle of white zinfandel to chill near the bottles of water. It sat on the counter nearby the sink, filled with crushed ice. He caught a glimpse of Gohan’s toned tanning legs visible from the blue swimsuit. His chest was bare and gleaming with sweat, exposed to the rays of the sun angling down in mid afternoon. Moreover, Trunks amorous gaze.
“Shall we swim while the charcoal gets to the right temperature?” Gohan asked.
“Sounds appealing, that and a glass of wine,” Trunks agreed.
For the next hour or so they relaxed by the pool. Custom ceramic tiles ran along the side, forming a small but comfortably sized area where a few umbrella tables sat. Wrought iron chairs bore comfortable seat and back cushions. Sun brewed iced tea sat in a pitcher, absorbing the rays of the Mediterranean sun. Potted palm trees also gave more natural shade, reminiscent of Kame house.
Together they took turns watching the grill, one jumping into the large kidney bean shaped pool dancing with the swimming rays of light sparking on its surface. While the other kept watch and turned the steaks, shish kebab, and salmon over the hot coals on the rack. Small foil wrapped sweet potatoes were placed alongside them to roast slowly and evenly. When Gohan announced the food was ready, Trunks head and shoulders broke water. He clung to the edge of the pool with roughened fingers, glancing up at his husband removing the food from the grill to put on china plates.
Wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe Trunks picked up glasses and removed the wine bottles from their nest of ice. He poured himself and his husband two glasses, while Gohan placed generous portions of the huge salad in bowls for them both. Between them, the never-ending bowl of salad diminished, followed by juicy steak and salmon. Gohan sprinkled cinnamon and brown sugar generously on their baked sweet potatoes, each mouthful melting over their tongues.
Gradually the sun set in shades of rose and lavender, much the same hue of Mirai’s hair. Conversation remained relegated to various small talk. Once the dinner dishes were soaking in the outdoor sink, they continued swimming lazily in their pool. Entire bottles of white and red wines were polished off between them. If Trunks glanced up, while floating on his back in the pool he could see the first stars of night peeking through the fluffy clouds.
Overall, it was a perfect last dinner together.
***
By the time the sun had set, resembling a disk of brilliant gold, the two of them had cleared up all the dishes. Trunks helped pull the solar blanket along with the pool cover to close off the pool. All the patio furniture was collected and locked in its storage shed. The last item they attended to was the grill, which Gohan closed and locked up. Reverently they strode towards the cabana, where a change of clothes awaited them.
Glancing at the last rays of the setting sun, Gohan nodded to Trunks. Mirai returned the nod, taking his husband’s hand and walking into the changing area. Stripping off their swimsuits, they entered the showers together. Gohan lathered his hands with the inexpensive soap they had used for the past few weeks, this time soaping his husband’s body with a ritualistic solemnity. Trunks ran his hands over Gohan’s body with similar ceremony. As if washing the last traces of their rich lifestyle off, they scrubbed away the chlorine smell of the pool. Tanned flesh twitched under Gohan’s fingers, as Trunks stayed still and kept his eyes closed.
Then they stepped out, each taking towels to dry one another off. Completely nude they wiped the water away from their bodies, neither one looking with lust but with admiration. Already their muscle-toned bodies were works of art, far superior to their former state. Instead of binding his hair up, Trunks allowed it to hang freely around his shoulders. Gohan’s own hair touched the back of his neck, curling up haphazardly as it dried.
Cool tile met their bare feet as they strode out of the cabana bathroom. They toweled off the wet floor, and then made their way into the changing room. Laid out on the wooden benches in the ‘locker room’ was a pair of white pants next to a pair of blue. Still silent, Gohan reached for his pair, leaning on Trunks arm for balance as he slipped into them. Then Trunks stepped into his, both of them zipping up the rough pants and buttoning them. Bare skin itched slightly like a penance around Gohan’s thighs, and he saw Mirai shifting in a similar matter that indicated he too was suffering the minor discomfort. Even after days of wearing the pants during their cleanup chores, they never failed to feel the itchy fabric reminding them of what they were.
“Onto the next phase,” Gohan whispered, as if it was sacrilege to speak too loudly.
“Yes,” Mirai nodded. They turned off the lights and closed the cabana door, locking it carefully. Carrying the keys, they strode back to the main house. Already the back yard was secure for the long duration they would not be there.
Once inside the house they strode across the polished floors. Cool smooth wood contrasted with the roughening skin on Trunks feet. Gohan wandered over to the sets of curtains, drawing them closed after checking to see that each window was locked. Trunks draped the furniture in white sheets, covering the piano, the sitting room chairs, and other carved pieces. Next, they strode up the stairs, making their way through each room in the house. Lights were extinguished and doors shut and locked, as if saying farewell to old friends.
The last place they dallied was the bedroom, both of them pulling the furniture drape over the large mahogany bed and its matching suite. Only mere slits of moon and starlight peeked through the slats in the drawn blinds, and then covered by heavy velvet curtains. Again, they took hands, Gohan giving Mira’s finger a squeeze. He dug his toes into the carpet and gave a smile to Gohan.
“I think I like the feel of grass much better already, don’t you?”
“Rather than thick nap carpets? Yes, I have to say I do too,” Gohan nodded, leading the way down the hallway of the last and uppermost floor. Towards the main staircase, they trekked, walking the long way down into the central core of the house. Small gleams of light twinkled faintly on the main chandelier dominating the vaulted ceiling. Feet touched tile, cool on their feet, as it had become a routine sensation.
All over the home, they now walked barefoot, where before they had considered cleaning this place. There were no shoes or socks to interrupt their exploration or touching of the surfaces they stood in. As if a vital flow of energy was now present, that rooted them more firmly to the earth. Trunks reflected that it was that missing link that early humans treasured but modern people missed sorely surrounded by artificial habitats.
Towards the hallway, they marched, stopping before a large painting that Mirai swung open. He reached for the dials of the safe combination lock, turning them. Boxes and folders sat inside, already indicating the valuables they had put within. Holding up his hand Gohan saw the light flash over the golden band. Trunks too held up his hand slowly turning the gold of the ring. Reaching inside, Gohan pulled out a small box and opened it.
“The very last thing to go,” he whispered to Trunks.
“This is the one thing I’m sad to let go,” Mirai admitted, reaching for his wedding band. He tugged it off, watching Gohan do the same.
“Well you’ll get another one from me when we get outside,” Gohan answered.
Reverently they placed their bands in the small box, and closed the lid. Together they sit it into the heart of the safe atop the other piles of valuables. Picking up two items in a small cloth bag, he backed away and let Gohan close the heavy safe door. It clicked definitively before the painting was replaced.
“That’s done then,” Mirai said with a serious nod. Gohan merely murmured, then followed him towards the front door.
Just inside the doorway entry area sat two army surplus backpacks, made of faded green fabric obtained second hand. Carefully Trunks picked them up as Gohan turned the knob in the center of the intricately carved front door. They stepped over the welcome mat, standing on the front portico. Cool stone greeted their toes, barely chilling them through the toughening skin on their feet. Mirai set their backpacks of meager possessions down, reaching together with Gohan for the front door. It gave a gentle slam in the cool breeze of night. Only the sounds of chirping crickets and the occasional noise of a distant car passing reached their ears.
Mirai locked the door, and then handed the keys to Gohan. They trotted down the steps, turned to the right and stopped before a large statue. Together they boosted it up, moving it aside so they could scrabble at the dirt. Keys jingled into a plastic bag, which was placed in the hole Gohan dug. Mirai smoothed the dirt overtop, and both of them moved the statue back over the place so it was invisible.
Another nod later and the duo returned to the front steps, walking on the stone pathway. Its uneven seams were discernable by their walk on bare feet. Both of them peered through the darkness at the silent stately homes in their shrouds of sleep. Behind them, the villa sat in hibernation, not dead, but closed off.
“We’d better leave before people think we’re breaking into our own house,” Gohan whispered.
“Right, let’s go,” Trunks agreed. Carefully shouldering their backpacks, they dashed down the front steps hand in hand. Neither walked before the other, as the two spouses raced along the stone path away from the house.
Soon asphalt stretched hard and stony under their bare feet, as their feet pounded the residential street. Chilly night air puffed Trunks and Gohan’s hair, swirling it around their shoulders. United in spirit and holding hands they felt their hearts mutual leapt in excitement.
Gohan felt free and light, his heart soaring, while Trunks smiled deeply and inhaled the fresh air uncomplicated by any responsibility save that which he swore to. He reveled in the joy sweeping through his body now, having shed the last vestiges of their life for a time. Nothing seemed to reach out and twine around him, dragging him back to capsule or the hundreds of thousands of decisions he would make for piloting a company. All he would pilot now was the course he and his husband would take. Likewise, Gohan could breathe each sweet draught of fresh air freely, only worrying about where they would spread their blankets and what patch of stars they would sleep under. Once out of the gates, they reached the main access road that lead into town one direction, and the other to the distant farms.
Gohan only stopped Trunks after he tugged him behind a line of trees just off the side of the road. Out of view of any passersby they finally stopped, their hearts pounding and breath surging in and out of their bodies. Once they had caught their breath, Mirai reached into his pants pocket for the small bag he had gotten before they left the house.
Two wooden rings tipped onto his palm. Standing before Gohan, he held his palm face up, waiting for Gohan to place his hand underneath and cup the jewelry. Inhaling deeply Trunks spoke first, “Gohan, I love you and I’ve shared five wonderful years with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you no matter what happens.”
“Trunks, I have loved you for years, and the last five years have been the best I could have imagined. I look forward to a lifetime of happiness at your side, first in richness, now in poverty.”
“In poverty we will gladly face a new phase in our life together,” Mirai added.
Taking one of the rings in his hand Gohan removed his from under Mirai’s. He then turned and faced his husband, his eyes gleaming in the sc ant light of the neighborhood street lamps. “I Gohan Son do take you Trunks, as my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, in sickness and health, first in richness, now in poverty, and humility. Forsaking all others as long as I live. To enter into a life of scarcity, hard work, and abundant joy together.”
He slipped the ring on Trunk’s finger, and then waited as Trunks uttered, “I Trunks Vegeta Briefs take you Gohan, as my lawfully wedded husband. To have and hold in past and future, unseparated by time. In war and peace, in sadness and great joy. In humbleness and destitution. Together in the new life we have chosen as hobos, to explore our bond and renew it to that life and to each other as long as we live.”
His fingers trembled only slightly taking the wooden ring, gliding it up Gohan’s finger. Sliding arms around one another, they pressed lips in a heavy kiss. Heat passed between them, filling their bodies with its radiance. Although only their body heat warmed them, it was far more welcome then any fire or heating device inside any of their large houses.
“This is the only warmth I need,” Gohan whispered into Trunks ear. “I love you.”
“And I love you, Gohan. As long as we’re together, we’ll be happy,” Trunks answered, pressing kisses to his eyes, and then his husband’s nose. Their fingers interlaced, giving each other a tight squeeze. Backing Gohan up against a tree Mirai renewed the heavy kiss, bodies nearly bursting with joy.
Reluctantly the kiss ended, and Gohan panted, breathing softly against Mirai’s face. “I think, as the first thing we should do as a couple who has renewed our wedding vows is prepare our bridal suite, so to speak.”
Mirai chuckled, backing away a bit and keeping hold of Gohan’s hands. Small flecks of light from the stars overhead peeked through the tree leaves. He suggested, “Right this way for our accommodations then…”
Still giddy they walked hand in hand, feet touching the dirt and grass around the bottoms of the line of trees just ten or twenty feet from the side of the road. Mirai figured that it would be easier if they were just out of sight, but not so deep into the trees that they were plunging into totally unknown territory in the dark of night. As they stepped out from under the branches of the nearest tree, they entered a slight gap in the overhead canopy. A river of bright stars crossed the sky, each small point of light seeming to be far brighter than seen from the backyard.
“Very little light pollution here,” Gohan whispered sliding his arms around Mirai’s waist from behind. He warmed his husband’s back with his front.
“Here seems a good place,” Mirai said. He leaned back and kissed Gohan’s cheek, then nudged him over in the direction of the small clearing. Underfoot were patches of bare but smooth dirt, only with an occasional bump of a tree root.
“Good as any place,” Gohan confirmed, sliding his pack off his back. Mirai let his drop to his feet, and both of them opened their backpacks. Tugging out their blankets, they felt the scratchy wool on their fingers. Such material was ideal for the outdoors, because wool wouldn’t stop giving warmth even when wet. Better still, it itched and scratched their bodies as the pants did.
Material flapped as they spread Mirai’s blanket down first. Gohan placed their packs at the top of it, to use to rest their heads on. Mirai took Gohan’s blanket in his hand and then watched as his husband lowered himself to sit on the one already spread out. Reaching a hand up, Gohan helped guide Mirai down in the darkness so they sat side by side. Then they stretched out, pulling the other blanket over top of them both.
Lying face to face, they tangled their bodies together. In the cocoon of their blankets, they shared the delicious heat of their bodies. Trunks whispered, “Good night Gohan… love you.”
Gohan bent over and kissed Trunks on the lips tenderly. Tightening his arms around his husband he answered, “I love you too. Good night Trunks…”
