Welcome to Boxer & Rice

I had just begun to doze off when the door to my room creaked open. There, standing in a sheet, was my lavender dream. He lifted a long delicate finger to his lips, silencing me before I could speak. He let the sheet drop down, exposing his bare shoulders. I could not move, as I was held in his gaze. I was his naked prisoner, sprawled out on the bed, thus was his power over me. He slowly walked forward, his footfalls made no sound. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart.

I felt it must surely be a dream when he let go of the slight covering he wore. As the sheet fell to the floor, the moonlight bathed his bared flesh in breathtaking blue. He looked like an oil painting of marvellous hues, too perfect to be real. He appeared delicate, almost frail. My growing arousal sprang to full life, causing him to break eye contact with me. He crossed the remaining feet between us and came to land gracefully on the foot of my bed.

He gave me a look that went far beyond his years, parting his lips sensuously and devouring me with those blue eyes. In that moment, we were the only two beings in the world. Nothing else mattered, just he and I. He slid his hands up my legs, letting his thin fingers play along the muscles of my thighs. I couldn’t help but to buck instinctively at his skilled touches. He seemed amused. With a lick of his lips, he moved forward and drew my length into his mouth before I could cry out in amazement.

It was even warmer than I had dreamed. His lovely tongue stroked and caressed with a mind of its own. I was lost in the overwhelming pleasure. He was so perfect, a demon in the body of an angelic child, a demon that I had gladly given my soul to. Just watching that sweet face working on my erection with such diligence was almost enough to drive me over the edge, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted him, completely.

A low, deep growl began to work its way up from my chest. My dreams and reality clashed together, and my blood burned. I snarled out to him, and reached down, grabbing his arms. In one jerk, I had pulled him up to my face. I wanted to taste those sweet lips, and I did so, taking his mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss of hunger. I wrapped one of my hands around behind his neck, and trailed the other down his back. He was small against my much larger frame. My hand found his tight cheeks and ground his hips into my own.

As my fingers toyed nearer to his tight entrance, he began to pant and moan into my kisses. He wanted me almost as much as I wanted him, and the waiting was about to come to an end for both of us. I pushed one callused finger into the hot ring of muscle, making him whimper in delight. I continued to work that finger as he writhed in pleasure above me. I had to have him, my vision went red, and I pushed him off of me. I stood for a moment with him looking up at me from my bed. The lust on his face was evident to me and I could wait no longer.

I leapt onto him, crushing his smaller frame under me. After a few quick kisses, I lifted up to grab one of his thighs with each of my hands. I lifted them up, exposing him completely to my will. I thrust into him mercilessly then, folding his legs to his chest. My fingers dug into the soft, pale flesh, leaving darkening bruises. Each time he cried out to me, I moved with more fury. He was so tight, so hot, like the fires of life itself. I wanted nothing more than to be consumed in his fires.

I lost myself, burying my seed deeply into his flesh with an earth- shattering climax. As my face contorted in the madness of pleasure, I felt his essence splattering onto my stomach. It was heated with the same fire that burned within the boy. When our spasms ended, a shred of my sanity returned. I pulled out of his limp body and laid him flat on my bed. After one tender, lingering kiss, I pulled him into my arms, cradling him against me. Sleep found me quickly, and I welcomed it, feeling whole for the first time.

The demon child lay in my arms, his breath the sound of angel’s wings. I thought of how we could be together. We could go away, and find someplace where the love between the two of us would be accepted until he was of age. Love? Yes, I am sure that I love him. I am his, and I gave him my soul freely. I don’t think I regret any of it. Even now.

I awoke in the early morning, feeling chilled through. I sat up in surprise when I realized that I was alone in my bed. The evidence that it had not been a dream hung heavy in the air. The thick, unmistakable smell of stale sex clung about me. It had been real, and I needed to feel his touch again. I grabbed a pair of discarded gi pants up from the floor and pulled them on. Ignoring the chill in the air, I went in search of my obsession.

I followed his smell past my parent’s room to my younger brother’s room. It never occurred to me the smell of sex would not be my own. As I pushed the door open, my heart stopped. Two young, naked bodies were entwined together in the bed. My brother and my love slept in each other’s arms. I could feel the ice forming in my veins. It was almost enough to knock me to my knees. I so wanted to cry out in my pain.

The bruises I had left on his skin only hours before had already started to fade into light pink marks. By morning, the only proof of our encounter would be my memories. I stood, watching them in silence. Suddenly the lavender head turned, and bright eyes cut the night. He smiled up at me pleasantly. In a hushed tone, he spoke words I hear non stop in my mind.

“I wanted you, and you wanted me. We both got what we wanted. That was all it was, nothing more.” He lightly brushed his lips over my brother’s sleeping cheek. “He is a gentle lover, but sometimes, I need something more aggressive to be satisfied.” He held me in those eyes, so alien in that cherub’s face. There was a cold detachment that I had willed myself to not see before this.

I had played the fool willingly, and I had gotten what I wanted. I turned and left, unable to bear the weight of his eyes on me. I left the room and then the house. My world crumbled around me as I flew. That was almost two weeks ago. I have not been able to return since. I am not strong enough. My life went from shades of grey to colour, and then I lost my sight completely. The image burned into my mind was that of his sweet face, lips parted in inviting desire.

I cannot escape him neither in waking nor in sleep. He is in my blood, and there is only one cure I know of. I must do it; I could never face my brother again. Trunks holds me in his power, as I am sure he must hold Goten. I need to break away. I deserve my fate. What I did was wrong. I tasted the forbidden fruit, and its sweetness has ruined me for anything else. If I cannot have that taste again, I will starve.

All that I was has since been shattered, and the fragments are less than the whole. It is poetically fitting that I should have chosen a shard of mirrored glass to aid me with what I now must do. As the blood of life flows in red streams, I can feel the welcoming chill enveloping me. I know that I am dying, but I have been dying since that night, little by little. It was his poison that is the end of me, not my wounds.

I hope to purge him from me before I die, even if I know it is in vain. I gave him myself, and I cannot take it back. He is my downfall. As the sleep of death takes hold of me, I know I will never be free of him. The blood no longer flows from my now cold flesh. A pale line of lavender on my lips is all the proof of the poison I could not purge from my body in time. I am but another soul in the long line of those he needs to satisfy him on those dark nights.

My only solace is that my brother lies beside him at night, blissfully unaware, as he is held in those graceful arms. His innocence is a blessing for him. To be in those arms, even briefly, was worth the price I paid. Even in death, I love. The taste of his poison was so strong, but the knowledge from the temptation was worth the ending.