After The Explanation
by Flipfloppandas     More by this Writer
It was a second later when Goten spoke. They were words that no one in a romantic relationship wanted to hear during an argument. Three words that made Trunks freeze and question the past few minutes. It was a proven fact that Trunks was right 99% of the time, but it seemed that the 1% Goten lived for had finally arrived.

Art Source :

https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?id=4763925

There were two things that Trunks realized the moment he woke up that morning: his head felt like it gotten run over at least twice by a very heavy tractor trailer, and his breath smelled like hell.
He groaned and buried his head underneath his pillow to shield it from the light emanating from the window, which had been serving to further irate his headache. He ignored the dampness of his body, shifted, and promptly fell asleep again. He repeated this at least three times before he finally found the strength to twist his head and unlock the cellphone that lay next to his head. With a quick glance at the digital clock it became apparent that it was well past midday, and he probably should make an effort to do something with his life. Yawning loudly, he registered the fact that his head felt somewhat more tolerable, and his breath smelled somewhat less tolerable, the latter which he deemed unacceptable. He tossed the pillow away from his face and kicked the blankets away from his sweaty body, his shirt and boxers nearly completely soaked through.

Ew.

Stretching his arms high over his head, he stood. In the back of Trunks' mind, he registered that there was not the familiar aroma of breakfast wavering through the air like normal, but he did not think too much on it. There were more pressing matters, like the fact that Trunks' left foot was cold from losing a sock somewhere in his sleep, and that his breath had recently gained the ability to fatally harm every living creature in a ten-mile radius.

But these were problems that could be fixed once he had a shower. Yes, a nice, long, hot shower sounded heavenly.

So, gathering clean clothing and making his way into the bathroom, he did exactly that. Or at least that was what he did after he made the necessary detour to stop and stare at himself in the mirror with a perfectly acceptable amount of horror. Bloodshot, nearly dead blue eyes stared back at him. His skin glowed unattractively from the coating of sweat over it, and trailing from the corners of his mouth were trails of drool and vomit. And too top it off: his normally perfect styled hair was sticking up so wildly that he would have mistaken himself for a super saiyan if not for the lavender color.

This was awful; who could've possibly let this atrocity happen to him? Maybe he went somewhere with Marron? The girl was barely sixteen but damn she could really tear shit up.

What happened last night?

Once the shower was running, he hurriedly stepped in. Even once his body was washed, he stayed under the spray, relaxing his muscles, as he desperately tried to recall anything he could from his forgotten night. Nothing came, much to his frustrations. There was not so much as a blur of memories, simply nothing. The only clue he had to go by was the lack of soreness in his backside, which told him that the events of last night had lacked sex. Or if there was sex, it had to have been very, very gentle sex. That was unlikely, because Goten just wasn't a fan of slow screwing. Fast and hard had always been more his style. Not that Trunks was complaining. Well, that was a lie, Trunks almost always complained afterwards, but that was only so his dim-witted Son didn't know how much he liked it when things got a bit rough. Even still though, gentle or not, Goten was simply too... endowed not to feel something afterwards.

Great, now Trunks' head hurt, his mouth smelled like vomit, his cheeks were pink from such embarrassing (and quite off-topic) thoughts, and he hadn't even gotten a decent fuck in the process.

Deeming that he was adequately bathed, he toweled off and pulled his clothes on. Next he went to the sink and grabbed the blue toothbrush from the back slot. He brushed his teeth thoroughly until he was sure that his gums were close to bleeding, rinsed with mouthwash, and even used floss (yes, he admits that he did not do that as often as he probably should, but honestly who had time for that?)

Once Trunks was sure he had cleaned his body to the best of his ability, he decided that he was thirsty. Directing himself out of the bathroom, he walked down the hallway, nearly passing by the couch and missing the body-shaped mass draped across it.

Sprawled across the couch with his limbs hanging out in all directions, was a still slumbering Son Goten. His t-shirt depicting his favorite baseball team was bunched far up his chest, painfully wrinkled, and had definitely been worn the night before. He was without pants, but his denim jeans were soon found to have been abandoned in a heap on the floor. He didn't look to good himself, all things considering, and when Trunks looked closer he could see the outlines of scratch marks on his back (the detail that had him questioning once again if sex had actually happened the night before). Trunks also noted that half of Goten's dick was scandalously exposed through the opening of his dark-colored boxer briefs.

Trunks huffed and averted his eyes in an effort to preserve modesty, as if he hasn't already seen Goten indecent a million times before. More importantly, with Goten knocked out cold, who was going to cook breakfast? It certainly would not be Trunks, who—for lack of a better description—could not cook for shit.

Still, they needed to eat. Maybe they should go out? Yeah, Trunks would call ahead and let Bob Evans know that they should just close for the day, because he was hungry and in the mood for just about every breakfast food imaginable, and Goten would probably feel similarly once he awoken.

He would give Goten ten more minutes before he woke him, Trunks decided as he bent at the knees to pick up the jeans from the floor before they could start to grate his nerves.

Trunks had only fluffed the pants out a bit so that they would be easier to fold, but apparently that was enough force to make a crumbled up piece of white paper fall from one of the pockets. Trunks stared at it for a moment, confused, before curiosity got the better of him. It was probably just a receipt or something.

It wasn't a receipt. The paper turned out to be a napkin. Written shakily in pen was: 'Ami's Cell'. Underneath the two words was a series of digits, just enough to make up a cellphone number.

It took a couple of seconds for the full-effect of what Trunks was seeing to truly hit him. Slowly, as if like a puzzle, the pieces started to connect. A woman's phone number, Goten's state of undress, the scratch marks on his back, the glitter all over the side of Goten's pale face...

Trunks wasn't quite sure how he got there, but he had somehow found himself behind the couch that the second-to-youngest Son was slumbering peacefully against. He did not dwell long on the supposed magic act he had just performed, and instead lifted the couch so that Goten rolled to the floor in a loud heap.

"Ow, fuck!" Goten cried, all sleep cleared from his mind as his head smacked against the floor.

See, the plan had been to rudely waken Goten (as was deserved), show him the evidence, talk one-on-one, and figure out what their next step would be. It seemed as though that would not happen however, because the moment he sees those black eyes blink up at him, something inside of him snaps. "Shut up, Goten! Just shut the fuck up!"

Said Son's face filled with incredulousness as he clambered up onto his feet. His mouth—the mouth that Trunks had kissed so many times—gaped as if he was about to speak, but Trunks silenced him.

"No, Goten, just shut up! Just shut up, and don't say shit! You motherfucking piece of shit! Oh my god, oh my god! How could you do this? Oh my fucking god!"

His next words were oddly calm, looking Goten directly in the eyes, his hand raised to emphasize his point. "But it's going to be the last time you do some shit like this to me."

His next words started out calm: "let me tell you something, Goten. You're going to get your shit together, and you're going to get out." But then they ended like: "No, I don't give a fuck! I don't give a fuck about it! You lying ass piece of shit, fuck you!"

Goten was still gawking at him, as if he really didn't know why Trunks' world was falling apart. "Wh—?"

"Why? Why? Let me tell you why! Let me tell you exactly why you fucked up!"

"I-I fucked up?"

"Shut up, dammit! Let me tell you why you fucked up. I'm going to tell you what has become quite clear to me, and you tell me if I'm right or wrong!"

Trunks seethed at Goten's shocked confusion, his chest tightening with unimaginable tension as he started, "Last night you decided to bring your drunken ass in here, take your fucking pants off and leave them on my fucking floor, and pass out on my fucking couch."

Trunks was pacing back and forth, his body lurching with each word he enunciated. He felt a prickling behind his eyes, and a small knot forming in his throat. Gods, he couldn't believe this was happening. "So you know what, I picked up your motherfucking pants! Then what I thought was a basic piece paper falls out your pocket. You know what was in your pocket? A fucking phone number, that's what! You know who put the damn phone number in your fucking pocket?!

"The basic bitch that you were with," he finished almost tranquilly.

He could feel the hot and angry tears gathering in his eyes. No matter how pissed he was, he wouldn't stoop so low as to cry in front of Goten. It would be undesirable to make that stupid Son think these were tears of sadness over him. No, there was no sadness here, at least not yet. Now was the time for unrestrained anger, even if he knew that that was not the right answer either. Trunks knew in the back of his mind that he should calm down and talk it out with the other hybrid in front of him, but he just could not bring himself to do it. The evidence was here, he didn't need anything else to know that Goten had done something (or was trying to) with someone else.

Fuck reason, he was pissed.

"That's who gave you that phone number! Shut up your ass up, shut up!" Trunks shouted, even though Goten hadn't said anything. "You're caught, you piece of shit!"

Trunks' hands balled into fists. He wanted to hit something, and he wished that Goten was close enough so he could take out his new desire on him. Goten had cheated. On him! How in the fuck could he do this? "Goddammit look at you, with that glitter all over your fucking face and your mismatched socks and your motherfucking dick hanging out! It's bad enough that you had to do this to me, but then you had to come here and rub it in my fucking face? I can't believe you would do this shit to me! I can't even fucking look at you! And you just want to stand there smiling and WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING?!"

Indeed Goten stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, and his hand cupping his chin as he arched a dark brow at Trunks. His shoulders shook from his inner chuckling, and his lips were pulled up into an almost unfriendly smile, his head shaking back in forth as if in disbelief.

"Don't act like I'm fucking crazy!" Trunks snarled, only to have Goten's grin deepen.

It was a second later when Goten spoke. They were words that no one in any type of romantic relationship wanted to hear during an argument. Trunks wasn't used to hearing them, because they hardly ever fought. Even when they did fight, Trunks was most always in the right. It wasn't like Goten could get a word in even if he wanted too, because considering the fact that Trunks knew everything, how could he ever be wrong?

Still, despite that fact, the three words still made Trunks freeze, and evaluate the last few minutes. They were three words that made Trunks question his entire argument. They were three words that basically meant 'shut up, because you're about to look dumb as shit'. Yes, Trunks knew he had the facts on his side, and yet he had a nagging feeling that Goten was indeed about to make him look uneducated and rather shitty. And that was strange, because Trunks never looked dumb as shit. Trunks was hardly ever wrong (especially when it came to arguing with Goten), but for once in as long as he could remember, he believed that he might have just fucked up.

It was a proven fact that Trunks was right 99% of the time, but it seemed that the 1% that Goten lived for had finally arrived.

"Are you done?"

Trunks stood with his mouth open, lost for what to say.

"Are you done? Are you done?" Goten repeated, his tone and smile cocky. "You're done, right? I don't want to disrupt your logically concluded allegations or anything."

Trunks bared his teeth at the younger hybrid. He tried to deny it, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that he had become horribly mistaken somewhere along the way, and Goten was going to correct him in the most humiliating way possible.

"So you're done? Okay, good." Goten placed his hand on his chest to indicate himself. "I'm laughing, because whatever crazy ass, psychopathic, 'hypothesizing' shit you just came up with is probably the farthest thing from what really went down. You're screaming your ass off at me, when you don't even know what happened! I'm laughing, because for the first time in my life, I get the pleasure to tell you off for your ignorance."

"Well then why don't you tell me what the fuck happened then?!" Trunks growled.

"Okay, you want to know what happened? Here's what happened. It was you who was at the club last night, drinking three bottles of Vodka all by yourself, no matter how I tried to stop you. It was you who passed out drunk right on the bar table. Miss Ami—such a lovely girl—came into the picture, when you in your drunken stupor, ran into her and almost knocked her the fuck over! She offered to give us a ride home, and once I told her we were walking, she gave me her number and said to call if we ended up needing her! It was me, who picked up your completely useless body and dragged you to some alleyway like ten minutes away so no one would see me flying off with your drunken carcass. It was you who decided to slap and claw at me because you wanted to go back to the club and make an even bigger ass of yourself. It was me who thought 'Gee, I love Trunks, so let me save him from any further embarrassment and take him home anyway', so I flew faster so I could put you to bed already!

"When we got home, it was you who decided to keep quiet about how my flying was making you sick, and proceeded to run upstairs to throw up. I was just about to take my clothes off and go to fucking sleep because I was tired, and maybe a wee bit annoyed, but I never got the chance because then you start calling me: 'Ten, help me, I'm throwing up'. So I come in, and you've got throw up everywhere. Lucky me, I stepped in it. Ew. I got mad, ripped my sock off, and took yours. Yes, I took yours, because it was your throw-up that ruined mine in the first place, and I don't like not wearing socks when I sleep, as we have discussed! I then threw you over my shoulder because I'll be damned if you get sick all over me. The reason I got glitter on my face—as you have so kindly noticed—is because you fell down in the club, and got glitter all over your ass, and it was rubbing all over the side of my fucking face!

"We get to the room, and I tucked you into bed. The reason I ain't get in with you, is because you smelled like fucking THROW UP! You think I want to get in the bed with someone who smells like throw up, so I can throw up my own damn self!? But you know what, I pulled myself together, and found it in myself, to go back to the bathroom, and clean up your mess! Double ew. You're very fucking welcome for that by the way!

"Fast-forward, I go into the living room, got myself comfy on the couch. Through all this mess, turns out I was a little drunk myself, and I had been hoping, that we would actually get some sex in, or at least a fucking kiss, but nooo, you decided you'd rather be half-dead and covered in vomit, so I said fuck it, I'm going to jack the fuck off, cry for a little bit, and go to fucking sleep! With that being said, I'm done. You're wrong, so don't say shit else to me! I'm out!"

And then Goten was moving. It wasn't until Goten was pulling on his discarded jeans that Trunks jolted from his shocked trance.

"Goten, wait. Come on," he was unsure of what to say, but was steadily becoming crushed by not only mortification, but also guilt.

Goten ignored him, grabbing his cellphone off the coffee table and stuffing it in his pocket.

"Goten, you're right, okay? I was wrong, I'm sorry!"

Goten was stuffing his feet into the boots that had been kicked off carelessly next to the couch. Trunks doesn't think that there's ever been a time that Goten was so angry with him.

"Baby, come on, don't leave," Trunks detested pet names, but he was getting desperate. It was too no avail however, because Goten was still continued on as if Trunks wasn't even there.

Goten brushed past Trunks, and in another attempt to keep the younger from walking away, he reached out and grasped his wrist. When Goten twisted his arm, instantly freeing it from Trunks' clutches, the elder began to panic. As he watched the large number '04' of Goten's baseball shirt get further and further away, Trunks immediately lowered all of his defenses, and shouted the first thing that popped into mind.

"I'll suck your dick while you watch the baseball game!"

The speed at which Goten halted all movement and pivoted on his foot had Trunks jumping in shock.

"For real?" Goten questioned, his dark eyes wide.

It was then that Trunks realized what exactly he had just said, but it was too late to take it back now. "... Yeah."

"For the whole game? Like, commercials and everything?"

"Yes, Goten!" Trunks nearly hissed, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. The effect was totally ruined however by his deep crimson blush. Gods, how low he had sunken and it was only noon.

Goten's face morphed into that of pure delight. "You got yourself a deal."

"Wha—really?" Trunks sputtered in disbelief.

"Fuck yeah. I'd be an idiot to pass up an opportunity like that."

If it was possible, Trunks' cheeks fired up even more, having just been given a full-on reminder of what he had just promised. It still hadn't quite set in. "I swear, you're such a pig sometimes..."

Goten's grin slipped into a soft smile. "Don't cry, babe."

It took only a moment of confusion for Trunks to realize that the angry tears he had been holding back had finally fallen. Goten wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and kissed Trunks' still-flushed cheek. "It was just a misunderstanding. You really think I can stand to have someone else after I finally got you?"

No, Trunks didn't think he could, and that only made him feel like an ass all over again. Of all the times for him to suddenly not think something through…

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you." Goten rubbed his thumb against the corner of his lips. "I was just upset, you know?"

Trunks thinks that maybe for once, he deserved to have Goten raise his voice at him, but decided to leave it unsaid. He was sorry for yelling too, but he didn't have the strength to say it any more than he already has.

Trunks used the back of his hand to quickly wipe any possible stray tears, and nudged Goten away. "Alright, alright, I'm fine."

Goten grinned brightly, before a dinging sound emitted from the pocket of his jeans. He fished his hand in, and pulled out his cell phone. "Oh shit it's almost one. I've got to go. I'll see you at six?"

"Six?" Goten tended to just come home whenever he felt like on Sundays after lunch with his mother.

Goten's grin then morphed into something completely devoid of innocence. "The Tigers play the Dragons at six, tonight."

Tigers? Dragons? Those were baseball teams...

"W-wait, we're doing this tonight?" He had kind of hoped that Goten's own apology and brushing away of tears meant his desperate promise could have been left forgotten. It was a stupid thing to hope for, of course. He knew Goten far too well.

"Of course," The Son replied: "If we wait any longer, I run the risk of you coming to your senses and pretending you never made this promise in the first place. I'm looking forward to it too much to let that happen. Why, you got plans?"

Trunks rolled his eyes as a perfectly acceptable excuse to avert his gaze elsewhere. He couldn't do much about the blushing though. "Alright, I get it. Tonight is fine." He almost wished that he had thought up some imaginary evening plans, but figured that it would only be pointless. His pride had already taken a catastrophic blow, and making up some silly lie that Goten would catch him anyway would certainly not help anything.

Goten grinned and kissed him again. He rushed to shower and change his clothes, and said his final goodbyes. Then he was gone, leaving Trunks to contemplate what exactly just happened, and what he had just gotten himself into.

Trunks stood awkwardly in the hallway. Hours later had found the living room spotless, probably the cleanest it had ever been. At first he had tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, but he was anxious, and the mundane act of cleaning had cleared his mind just enough to calm his racing heart temporarily. Also given the situation, it seemed like the necessary thing to do.

What else should he do? How do you set the mood to perform fellatio on someone? Dim the lights? Burn some candles? Set out flower petals? But Goten was watching a baseball game, so it wasn't like this was a particularly romantic occasion. Should he turn the lights off altogether? It's wasn't like Goten would need any to see the television, and Trunks didn't necessary need the light to su-

Trunks decided to leave the lights on, so it didn't seem like he viewed this whole ordeal special, even if the living room was sparkling unnaturally and smelled suspiciously of carpet freshener.

So with not much else to do, Trunks waited. He tried to read, but found he could not focus on the words that were too big to ever be considered a 'light read', as Goten would often tease him about... which lead him to thinking about Goten, which was exactly what he was trying not to do. He then tried to watch TV, but the moment he sat down on the couch, he couldn't help but think about what would soon be occurring on said couch, and his self-induced torment started all over again.

To top it off, Goten was much later coming home than usual. He was probably doing it on purpose.

It wasn't until ten minutes before six that Trunks realized he had no idea what the fuck he was doing, or rather, what the fuck he would be doing. Sure Trunks knew what it was like to receive oral, but not so much the other way around. Trunks had tried once and failed miserably. He had gotten Goten's head just past his lips before he became unbearably embarrassed and was forced to stop. To make up for his failure, he had rode Goten reverse cowgirl, and that had been the end of it. That had been a while ago, back when they first started having sex. He's never tried again, but that was mainly because the opportunity hasn't presented itself. Trunks is sure that he has matured enough to the point where he would not die of mortification this time around, but that didn't make his knowledge on the act any better.

Should he have practiced? They did happen to have some bananas sitting untouched on the counter...

No, no, no and no! He would not even think of going there! Goten would get what Trunks gave him and that was that! He was giving this too much thought, and that was all! Goten has sucked him off plenty of times. How hard could it possibly be?

'Then again, Goten actually knew what he was doing. Just imagine how embarrassing it would be to make Goten sit through three hours of a shitty blowjob...'

Then a horrible thought passed through his head.

'What if it's so bad that he can't even get off?'

Well, if it came to that, Trunks might just have to shoot himself. He would deserve it after all, if he genuinely gave Goten a blowjob so bad that a five-star pervert like him couldn't even get off from it. He was using his mouth for fuck's sake! It wasn't rocket science!

And then another horrible thought hit Trunks. It was more of a horrible reminder, really.

Hewas going to be sucking Goten's dick for three hours... A whole three hours...

Before he could become properly horrified about something that he probably should have already come to terms with by now, the knob to the front door is jiggling. It's only a second later before it is finally unlocked and swinging open.

Goten doesn't notice him as he shuts the door, nor while he's toeing off his footwear. Trunks admits that he somewhat liked listening to the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing when Goten returns, bringing in a burst of heat or cold depending on the weather. He's grown to love the noisiness of Goten heavily kicking off his shoes, and the rustling of whatever bag he carries in with him. He likes how Goten announces himself, as if it wasn't obvious that he was the one who was returning through the door at the end of each day. He likes the kiss Goten always gives him once he finds him in whatever part of the house he's in, and the way he smells when he crushes Trunks in a hug. There's something comforting about it all.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, it just adds new nerves on top of the old nerves that Trunks had been feeling since Goten left that afternoon.

"Welcome home," Trunks says, trying to hold on to some sense of normalcy. Maybe if he doesn't bring it up, they can pretend he never made such a request in the first place.

Goten looks up, surprised to see him there. "Oh hey, babe."

Trunks' eye twitched at the name, and Goten doesn't even pretend to not have notice, as he sets down his bag—leftovers, Trunks pointlessly notes. Instead, Goten smiles, and takes the steps necessary to wrap Trunks up in a hug and peck his lips.

Given the position of his arms, Trunks doesn't really have much a choice aside from wrapping them around Goten's neck, not that he minds. Despite how much he's been thinking about it, their fight earlier seemed like it had happened ages ago. "How was your mom's?"

"It was alright. Pan needed me to help with her math homework, so you know I got to feel pretty good about myself for a minute there. Mom expects you next week so don't make any plans. Oh yeah, but did you eat? I brought leftovers."

"I'm fine." By fine he meant that he had choked down two boxes of crackers since Goten had left that afternoon. He had felt too anxious to really eat, but it had always been a sort of habit to nibble on something when he was nervous.

He was glad that he hadn't eaten anything heavy though. What if he tried to suck Goten to deep and hit his gag reflex? The thought of throwing up all over Goten's genitals made him nauseous.

"If you say so," Goten responds, kissing Trunks again before releasing him. The Son steps to the side to get around him, giving Trunks enough time to think he might just actually be in the clear.

It's ruined by Goten stopping, twisting so his face was right by Trunks' ear, and whispering: "And I haven't forgotten."

Trunks cursed to himself, his face flushing. "Of course you haven't."

Goten smirked and leaned in closer, his hot breath igniting the nerves in Trunks' ear. "That would be kind of hard, considering it's all I've been thinking about since I left. Do you know how hard it is to try and teach some kid how to multiply while imagining those sexy lips of yours around my dick? It's downright unclassy, really."

Goten is gone before Trunks could reply, which is good, because he was far too consumed with shock and embarrassment to give one. By time he's composed himself, he realizes that Goten has already disappeared into the bathroom, evident by the distant sound of water running. His nerves have returned full-force, and once again, he's lost at what to do with himself.

Goddammit, why did he make such a stupid offer? Goten would have been angry for maybe a day tops before he would have calmed enough to listen to Trunks' proper apology. Why did he suggest such an unnecessary, humiliating proposition when there really was no need for one?

Because he's an idiot, that's why.

After a thorough mental kicking, he opts for leaning against the wall again, and crossing his arms over his chest. He closes his eyes and evens his breathing, desperately trying to force away the tremors of his body. He already told himself it wasn't that big a deal. Logically, he knew it wasn't a big deal at all. There was just something about the thought of putting someone's genitalia in his mouth that freaked him out. It couldn't be that bad—Goten seemed to like doing it, after all—but there was something about imagining himself doing it that rubbed Trunks the wrong way. It would be okay though, he was sure. All he had to do was relax and he would be fine.

'I can do this. I can do this.'

It is a couple of minutes later when Goten reemerges. He's got a cheeky grin on his face as passes by Trunks, his eyes set on the living room. Trunks is annoyed at being ignored, but he follows after him anyway.

'I can do this. I can do this.'

His fingers are drumming against his biceps nervously as he watches Goten search for the remote controller, the one that Trunks knows is on the end table behind the lamp. He knows, because he had placed it in six different places before deciding that there was the most natural (he had briefly contemplated hiding it, but that would only have been counter-productive). He keeps this information to himself, however, because he doesn't trust himself to speak. He might also be trying to delay the inevitable a bit, despite how futile it was.

It doesn't take Goten long to find the controller, and he flips it in his hand triumphantly before he points it at the television. He flops down onto the couch as he flips through the channel, and Trunks feels his heart skip a beat as he hears the familiar music of Goten's favorite sports station emit from the TV.

Goten's eyes are focused on the television for a moment, reading something on the screen that Trunks doesn't have the resolve to look at, before his eyes trail over towards him.

Goten arches his brow, amused. "Are you coming or what? Well, I guess I'll certainly be but…"

"Goten, shut up," Trunks grumbles, glaring at him hard enough to fatally wound.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Goten exclaims, waving his hands in surrender, "just trying to lighten the mood! You seem nervous, just in case you thought I didn't notice."

Trunks fights the blush that tries to creeps up his face as he says: "I'm not nervous."

"Well come on, then," Goten says, sticking his foot out to effortlessly push the coffee table out of the way. It's then that Trunks realizes that he had just been standing there like an idiot. He figured that if he was going to slip over there with the least bit of awkwardness possible, it might as well be sooner rather than later.

So that's how he found himself taking the necessary steps forward. He kept his arms crossed tightly so as to avoid clenching his fists in an attention-grabbing manner and also to control the shaking that seemed to have made an inconvenient reappearance. His heart pounded harder with each step he took, and there was not enough distance between them for him to have enough time to even his breathing.

He really needed to calm down. It was his stupid idea, after all.

As humiliating as this ordeal surely was going to be, he could not deny that he was a bit pleased with himself for thinking of it. It annoyed him, of course, how easily Goten could be manipulated by sex, but he could not deny that it definitely helped in close-call situations like this. Sure Goten was likely to forgive his irrational accusations eventually, but if Trunks had the opportunity to dissipate the Son's displeased feelings with him faster, he'd certainly take it. Besides, Trunks had been wrong, and Goten had been right. Goten rightfully deserved this stupid little reward and he was going to get it.

He wonders if maybe this would have been less nerve-wracking if they were in the bedroom, the moment flowing naturally in the midst of their love-making. It didn't matter of course, because the scene had been decided, and as a man should, Trunks would always keep his word.

Clinging to this mentality, Trunks stopped in front of the spread thighs of a patiently waiting, but obviously self-satisfied Goten. He did not let it deter him as he dropped down to one knee.

He had nearly reached forward before he stopped, looked up, and glared. "This is only a one-time thing, you hear? I don't care if you propose to me, the world is ending, and it's your birthday. I'm not doing this again."

Goten frowned glumly. "It would be so depressing if the world ended on my birthday. Like, what did I do deserve the world deciding to have a suicidal crisis on my special day?"

The look Trunks gave him could only be described as 'really bitch?'

"Okay, okay, I hear you. Now less talking and more—" Goten cut himself off at the second murderous glare he received. "Just kidding, just kidding!"

Trunks rolled his eyes as he shifted to be more comfortable on his knee and foot. There was nothing left to say, no other ways to stall. Waiting any longer would only prove Goten's theory of him being nervous, and while that was quite obviously true, Goten did not need any more confirmation than he already had. Pushing through his nerves, he reached forward towards Goten's belt. He could do this... He could do this...

The buckle of Goten's belt was cold against his trembling fingers, and the shocking coolness sent a shot of anxiety through him.

'I can't do this...'

'Yes, you can!' Trunks told himself adamantly, promptly unhooking the silver buckle. He was in full-on business-mode, nudging the two halves of the belt out of his way smoothly. He unbuttoned Goten's jeans with tremble-free fingers, not even a tad of hesitation to be shone. He didn't even allow the usual twitch of his ear at the sounds of Goten's zipper being unzipped. He was Trunks Brief, after all, and it would do him good to act like it.

He froze however, once he was faced with the dark grey boxers before him. He figured his safest route was to do a bit of fondling while he planned his next move, so he did just that. Goten was hard and growing harder underneath his hand, but that was not a foreign feeling. He had done this before—touched Goten down here, he means. He had done this a lot of times in fact, so he confidently considered this action safe. Contrary to what one may assume, Trunks wasn't a total prude. He can admit that he liked when Goten touched him, and that he liked touching him back. He was mature enough to know that sex with the person he cared about most wasn't taboo, even the less... traditional aspects of it.

To prove his point, he dropped his head down and moved his hand aside to place a kiss.

'My face is in Goten's crotch.'

He will not freak out. He repeats: he will not freak out. He will calm down, and he will go with it.

Trunks would like to make it known that he was not anywhere near clueless. He learned best by observing, and thus could remember most (if not all) of Goten's bedroom habits, and had watched enough porn in his life to know what he was supposed to do, as far as foreplay and teasing and the actual act itself went. Looking at this scenario with the most realistic variable, he should probably be able to give Goten the best damn blowjob he'd ever received in his life. That is, if you subtracted his overload of nerves from the equation. His weakness towards embarrassing situations was the only real issue. He was, after all, Trunks Brief. He was the—more or less—president of the most profited company in the world. He has attended meetings with some of the most influential people on the planet. He survived altercations with enemies who had the potential to destroy the galaxy. He had spent his childhood trying to live up to a stone-hearted alien prince, and had the pride to match. If there was such a thing as perfect, he was pretty damn close to it. He wasn't used to embarrassing himself, and thus wasn't good at properly reacting to it, but if he could somehow just get over it...

He could probably give the best blowjob to have ever been a blowjob in the whole damn universe.

So that's exactly what he did: he swallowed his embarrassment and his nerves (and a bit of his pride), and threw himself into the task at hand. He kissed and licked Goten through his underwear, stroking his thighs where the bits of pale skin were exposed with his hands. Goten may be feeling especially cocky, but that did not change the fact that it was only Goten.

When he decided that he should move along, he hooked his fingers in the rim of Goten's boxers and pulled them down. Trunks already knew what Goten's equipment looked like obviously, and it was pretty much as impressive as always: white like the rest of him, thick, hard of course, with a smooth patch of oddly straight black hair around it. From this distance the details were obviously more defined. Such was the fact that the hairs surrounding it really weren't as straight as they appeared but was actually a bit jagged, and that the veins contrasted greatly against the paleness of his skin, and that he was a whole lot bigger up close.

He wasn't used to having this part of Goten so close to his face. It was in fact, much to close than strictly comfortable... but that was the point, wasn't it? He could feel his cheeks beginning to flush anew.

'Stay focused!'

Trunks stroked his hand, rubbing his thumb over his head how he knew Goten liked. The Son shifted above him, his dark eyes reflecting back the images of the television. Hoping to receive another reaction, Trunks stuck out his tongue, and before he could freak out over it, licked an experimental line. He felt Goten's thigh twitch under his hand, and dragged his tongue up again. He licked long lines and he licked short ones, his tongue dancing around just above his hand, his lips kissing the veins and ridges that he found.

'It's like I'm worshipping it.'

He was more than a little horrified by that thought, so before he could lose his resolve, he abruptly swallowed Goten into his mouth.

Goten gave a shocked noise, his eyes breaking away from the screen the look down in surprise. Trunks wished then that he had gone ahead and turned the lights off, as his embarrassment at his own forwardness was undoubtedly written all over his face. Still, he held strong, and gave a timid bob of his head. Once he was certain that Goten's eyes were back on the television, he bobbed his head again, and then again.

It was weird, he thought, the feeling of Goten's most intimate part rubbing against his tongue. His flush hadn't faded at all, but he was growing more confident. He found that it wasn't as hard as he had thought it'd be to keep his teeth out of the way, and that he had already gotten a decent amount of Goten into his mouth without even coming close to his gag reflex. He was beginning to think that all of his earlier nerves had been for nothing. He was still trembling a bit, but was remarkably holding himself together.

One of Goten's hands found itself on his head, stroking his hair. He found that he didn't mind it and moved more enthusiastically, swirling his tongue as he hollowed his cheeks. The hand in Trunks' hair started to guide him and he let it, bobbing his head to Goten's pace, humming all the while. He learned that Goten liked that, if the especially loud moan he received was anything to go by. He didn't have the nerve to look up just yet, but Goten's noises were all the encouragement that he needed. Every groan that fell from Goten's lip sent tingles down Trunks spine.

He was still as a part the game as he normally was—you'd think he was playing it himself. If his team hit the ball, he moaned happily, if they struck out his groan would have an irritated quality to it. It was actually quite interesting.

"Fuck," Goten groaned, and whether or not it was because his favorite player got out at third base like the announcer described, or because of the strong suck at the head of his cock was unknown, but it had Trunks shivering.

It was then that Trunks realized his body wasn't trembling because he nervous, but rather because he was turned on. If that wasn't clear from his own happy humming, the boner in his pants made it so.

'Oh gods I've been around Goten so long that I've become a pervert like him!' There was simply no other explanation as to why he found himself erect by sucking someone else's dick in an embarrassing position, while said person was steadily ignoring him in favor of a baseball game.

Trunks screwed his eyes shut tight; his facing flaming up to a degree he hadn't even known was possible. What had he done to deserve this?

He was pulled out of his reverie by the act of Goten's tip scraping against the back of his throat, eliciting another moan and a delicious spike of pleasure. Goten's hips had started to jerk off the couch erratically, and Trunks stilled himself in favor of letting Goten fuck his mouth. He sat back obediently; humming in shameful gratification each time his throat was nearly filled.

He was so lost to his newly-discovered forbidden pleasure that he found unpleasantly surprised when the fingers in Goten's hair suddenly tightened and yanked him back. Trunks had barely recovered when he heard Goten gasp out a shockingly loud moan, before he climaxed.

He was shocked that Goten came so suddenly, but found that the only option he really had was to close his eyes because it was still coming. Goten was jerking himself, milking himself off on the only place he could go—which happened to be Trunks already soiled face.

He should have been mortified, and maybe a small part of him was, but that thought had Trunks biting his lip to keep back a whimper, and he truly wished that the earth would open up and swallow him whole. He hated himself for it, but couldn't deny how hot it made him to have Goten jack himself off, his other hand keeping Trunks' messy face in place. He liked the way Goten rubbed his cooling tip against Trunks' burning red and sticky cheek. The simple fact that Goten was watching him while he did so practically caused him to come undone.

Yup, he's definitely a pervert now. He was a pervert who liked sucking dick with a voyeurism kink and masochistic tendencies.

'Someone please kill me...'

Trunk glared up at Goten, who had the grace to give him a sheepish smile, while mouthing his apology. His attention, however, was pulled back to the television screen at the sound of a ball making contact with a glove. "Hell yeah!"

Trunks rolled his eyes, and turned around to snatch a tissue from the Kleenex box on the coffee table. He rubbed the paper handkerchief over his cheeks and chin and even parts of his forehead. Not that it mattered really, considering that a mess would no doubt be made of his face again soon enough. Goten was rarely satisfied by only getting off once—he simply had too much stamina. Also, Trunks had promised him the whole game, after all. There was no telling how many times he'd have that hot cum spurting out onto him.

Trunks was ashamed by his shiver of anticipation, but he figured there was no point in being surprised over it.

He also wasn't surprised by the newly revived erection that greeted him when he turned back around. Instead, he stroked him just like before, and then took him into his mouth again. He tasted considerably saltier than last time, and of course like the pervert he was, Trunks took pleasure in that.

Trunks hadn't even gotten back into his rhythm yet, when the cheerful jingle of one of the latest pop songs rang through the room. Goten—barely peeling his eyes from the TV—pulled his phone out of his pocket, and pressed it up to his ear.

"Hello? Oh, hey, Gohan."

Trunks moved to pull away, but the hand that suddenly relocated itself back into his hair halted him, and Trunks had the strong desire to kill him.

'You do realize that your dick is unnaturally close to my teeth, right? Yet you purposely piss me off like you want me to do something unfortunate to you...'

"Ah, you're watching the game too, huh? We're kicking ass! It's because I'm wearing my lucky shirt, obviously."

Trunks wanted to die. To compensate, he sucked especially hard.

Goten let out a loud moan before he could stop himself. "S-sorry, I'm just really into this game so you know now isn't really a good time... Yeah, sure, I guess you could, ah, say that. Okay I gotta go, I'll tell T-Trunks you said hi, bye—ah!"

Goten muttered something about a sweet-mouthed bastard, but Trunks was too busy basking in his triumph to care. If there was anyone Goten should be paying attention too right now, it was him.

He went back to working his magic. The enthusiasm that of which he attacked Goten with was surprising even to himself, but he couldn't stop. How could he stop when he was feeling this good? The erection in his pants had hardened to the point that it was almost painful. Feeding it these wonderful tingles felt amazing, but he was going to drive himself crazy if he kept ignoring his obvious need this way.

So what was he supposed to do then? Was he really supposed to sit here and jerk himself off while sucking Goten's dick? He couldn't do that. Not only would that take his perverseness to a new, unimaginable height, it was just downright embarrassing! If Goten saw him touching himself because he was so unbearably turned on by giving him oral, he'd never let him live it down.

Well what if he didn't see?

Trunks thought for a moment as much as he could manage. Goten was rather engrossed in the baseball game, and even if he did look down, he shouldn't actually be able to see Trunks unless he was being blaringly obvious. Should he take the chance?

He would never know the proper answer because he didn't want to think anymore, and his free hand had already flown down to undo the button of his pants. Once his zipper was unzipped, his hand dove in, and he moaned around his mouthful as his fist closed around his own rigid, weeping cock.

Maybe it wasn't all Goten's fault that Trunks was such a pervert. Trunks' mouth was a rather sensitive place, after all. He found himself annoyed that he had waited all this time to try it in the first place.

He let Goten's hand guide him once again as he swirled his tongue around the hot flesh that slipped into and out of his mouth. His jaw was beginning to grow sore, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. His hand playing in his pants had him moaning, vibrating Goten in a way that had to be unbearably delicious, and he reveled in the fingers that gripped his hair in a vice-grip.

His hand jerked faster, and he could already feel the tell-tale signs of an orgasm approaching. It was then that a nagging feeling inside that only ever appeared when something was wrong suddenly arose. He blinked his eyes open and looked up, his heart dropping in horror when he saw Goten looking down at him, completely focused on the happenings below him.

Goten looked smug. "And you call me the pervert."

Trunks wanted to shout something indignantly, but all he managed to do was hum furiously.

"Ah, fuck, Trunks." Goten shuddered. He yanked on Trunks' hair, and the elder found his anger unwillingly soothing away for something else entirely. "You look fucking beautiful like this."

Goten was thrusting his hips again, though with much more purpose than last time, and Trunks' hand found itself flying once more.

"Ah, shit, you fucking love this, don't you? You love sucking my cock down your throat."

Trunks couldn't nod, so he hummed in confirmation, his mouth going slack around the hardness jamming its way through. Trunks had been expecting more sinfully improper words to grace his equally sinful ears, but when Goten remained silent, he chanced glancing up.

Goten was watching the game again, the propelling of his hips being his only acknowledgement that Trunks was even there.

And why, pray tell, did he find that so hot?

Trunks' ears were completely filled with Goten's grunts and his own muffled humming, and yet he could still hear the especially loud crack of a wooden bat colliding with a speeding ball. It was at the same time that Goten's grunts grew deeper, and his hips moved even harder. Did a player from his chosen team hit the ball past the outfielders? Was he coming up to first base? Was he already on his way to second?

Well, whatever was happening, it was definitely a good thing. If Trunks could speak he'd be a babbling mess right now. He didn't even having the strength to suck as his mouth was assaulted. He could only hum loudly as he suddenly came, his body jerking as he painted white ribbons across the bottom of the couch.

Third base. The runner had to be near third base, because Goten's cock was ramming so hard down his throat that it almost hurt, his poor lips doing little to slow the harsh attack. It wasn't often that he gave Goten all the control he wanted over him, but there was no helping it this time. He just couldn't keep up, not with Goten going as wild as he was. The stimulation was all too much, his overly-sensitized body barely able to handle it. But he doesn't mind it so much, because while he can barely breathe, he definitely just had one of the best orgasms of his life.

"Ah, yes, fucking yes! Fuck, fuck, ah, f-u-u-uck~!" Goten screamed, coming deep down his throat. His hips kept flying until the runner slide to home plate and the TV blared in applause, and Trunks believes it may have been one of the best for him as well.

Completely spent, Goten's body collapsed dramatically onto the couch, his diminishing hardness slipping roughly from Trunks' throat. Trunks coughed against Goten's thighs, and didn't fight when said Son pulled him up and onto his lap. He rested against Goten's chest, gasping in the air he had been severely lacking.

"You really thought I'd give this up," Goten murmured against him with disbelief in his voice, clearly still on his high as his arms wrapping tight around Trunks' waist, kissing his hair over and over.

"I'm sorry," Trunks muttered back just as low. He was fully aware that at any other time, he'd probably be embarrassed by how breathless his words were. Not now though. "I'm so sorry."

They were both quiet for a while.

"Hey," Goten eventually spoke up. Trunks shifted to show that he was listening, even though most of his attention was focused on the thumping of Goten's slowing heartbeat against his chest. "I'm sorry. I got a little rough there."

"No…" Trunks' voice was hoarse and scratchy. He cleared his throat and tried again. "No, it's fine. I could've done without the whole 'coming down my throat' part, though," he finished with a huff. He didn't really mind though to be completely honest. His throat burned and his jaw ached, but he'd be damned if that wasn't one of the most intense rides of his life. And well, he deserved it after all, that rough treatment, he means. He had been sort of a bad boy...

...

He didn't just think that, you did.

"What?" Goten questioned the odd look on his face.

"Nothing..."

The Son seemed to accept that, and smiled apologetically. "I got kind of mean too. It was asshole-ish of me to yell at you."

It took a moment for Trunks to realize that he was referring to earlier that day. "Oh don't you do it. You always make me out as the victim. I deserved it, okay. I fucked up and I've learned my lesson... just don't expect it to happen often."

Goten's smile turned into his usual annoyingly happy one. "Of course not. You are always right, after all."

Trunks rolled his eyes, but when he looked back at the television, he noted the new player who was up to bat. "Er, Goten, you do know that the game isn't over, right?"

"If you just want to suck me off, all you have to do is ask," Goten responded with an X-rated grin.

"You sure do like to push it, don't you?" Trunks crossed his arms. "I just want to know if I'm still being held accountable for completing the agreement, or if I can go and take a bath. I, for one, do not like to back out on my responsibilities."

Goten thought for a moment. "Nah, your throat is sore, isn't it? I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have, and to be honest I'm pretty spent. Besides, I think it's safe to say that you've more than enough made it up too me."

Trunks wanted to tell him that he hadn't hurt him at all and to stop acting like he was delicate, but found that it really didn't matter.

"I am really sorry, though," he said instead, rubbing his fingers absently against Goten's chest. "I was just so worried and I... just stopped thinking clearly, and apparently when I'm not thinking I'm a psychopath. I promise to never go crazy on you like that again. And thank you for taking care of me yesterday, even though I can't really remember it."

Goten regarded him for a moment. Whatever he was looking for he must have found, because after he re-buttoned his jeans he pulled Trunks closer to him.

"You can finish making it up to me by watching the rest of this game with me."

Trunks held back a groan. He wasn't very fond of baseball; he found the game to be slow and boring if you weren't playing it yourself. In comparison he found football to be more enjoyable. Not American football, the one actually played with feet. There was something about watching people head-butt each other that entertained him.

Still, he gladly settled back against him, and regarded the man up to bat. "So who's this 'Hiroki Uemoto' character? He's cute but I doubt he can actually hit the ball."

Goten whipped his head around as if he had been personally offended. "Uemoto is the best player on the team! He's the only one who hasn't struck out once the whole season!"

Trunks wasn't exactly sure if that was really a good thing. He figured it was safe to assume that Mr. Uemoto was Goten's favorite player, though. "Really, are you sure? He seems kind of scrawny to me. I bet he only hits grounders, even at his best."

"Only hits grounders!? Good gods you are so misguided! Now, you just listen close and let me explain..."

Trunks smiled, and genuinely listened to yet another one of Goten's baseball rants, glad that all was right in the world again.

Trunks would be lying if he said he never went psychotic again, even after this ordeal. He can say, however, that he waited until after the explanation was given, then proceeded to go bat-shit crazy.

He's never been wrong again, thankfully. Sometimes he pretends to be, though, because Goten always requests the same reward, and Trunks is always happy to oblige.

The End

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