Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

“That’s weird.”
“What?” Trunks looked up from his video game. His best friend was staring up at a photo on the wall of the Son living room like he was seeing it for the first time.
“Look,” Goten said, pointing. Trunks reluctantly paused his game and sat up, squinting at the photo. It looked like some kind of family portrait from when Gohan was a baby. The wall was lined with them—all the way from an old wedding photo to a picture taken just the year before at Gohan’s high school graduation. “Gohan’s got a tail.”
“So?” Trunks flopped back on the couch and went back to his game. “Dad says all Saiyans are supposed to have tails. Mom said he was really mad when she cut mine off when I was a baby.”
“Really?” Goten twisted to look at his backside. “Did I have a tail?”
“How should I know? Probably?” Trunks’s character fell into a pit of lava and died. He grumbled and tossed the game aside.
“Gohan looks weird with a tail,” Goten declared. He folded his arms and tilted his head, a sure sign he was thinking hard. “I wonder what he’d look like with one now.”
“Pfft, whatever.” Trunks rolled onto his stomach and rested his chin on his folded arms. “I wanna see how future me looks with one.”
Goten looked down at him. “What? Why?”
“Duh! That way I can see if I’d look good with one later!” He grinned up at Goten. “I bet it’d be purple, like his hair.”
“That’s stupid,” Goten said stubbornly. “Gohan’s got black hair, and his tail’s brown in the picture.”
“There’s nothing that says it couldn’t be purple,” Trunks pointed out.
“But how would we even find out, anyway?” Goten asked. “Neither of them have tails anymore. And it’s not like we can just magically make them have tails again.”
A wicked gleam came to Trunks’s eye. “Sure we can. We’ve just gotta go borrow something from Mom first.”
Goten frowned, confused, before an understanding grin spread across his face. “Awesome! It’ll be like an adventure!”
Trunks bounced off the couch and grabbed Goten’s wrist. “Right! So let’s go already!”

“I’m glad you came back.”
Trunks looked over at Gohan, and Gohan quickly looked away, staring off into the middle distance. He dug a foot into the sand at the base of the swing set they were seated on and slowly swung himself back and forth. “I mean,” he said, “it’s really nice of you to come back and check on us. I missed you.”
Great, now he was oversharing and being too honest. When the boy from the future—not boy, he reminded himself, man, they were both men now—showed up at Capsule Corp with a shy grin and a “hey,” he’d been welcomed with open arms. And when he came out to the Son house to see how their family was holding up, Gohan had remembered exactly how big of a crush he’d had on Trunks when they first fought together. He’d grinned, and shaken Trunks’s hand, and asked how the future was, and told himself he wouldn’t let Trunks know under any circumstances how he felt. And here he’d almost blown it less than a day after they’d met again. He was an idiot.
It wasn’t really his fault, though. How could he not want to tell Trunks how he felt, with him sitting right there and so unattainably close? Just as impossibly handsome as Gohan remembered him, and he’d grown his hair out again too and that—that just wasn’t fair.
“I, uh.” Trunks cleared his throat. “I missed you, too.”
Gohan looked over at him and Trunks immediately flushed pink. “A-all of you,” he clarified. “I missed everyone. It’s just me and Mom in the future, so…”
“I get it,” Gohan assured him. He wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, Trunks obviously didn’t return his feelings, so he was right in his decision not to say anything about them. But on the other…Trunks obviously didn’t return his feelings.
“It was, uh, it was weird, seeing your dad,” Trunks added hastily. “I didn’t know he came back.”
“What? Oh, yeah.” Gohan scuffed his shoes in the sand. “He’s been back for about a year now. I’m glad; it was weird without him. Sure, he trains all the time, but at least that’s normal, you know? Goten was calling Piccolo “Dad” half the time because he was around the house so often!” He laughed. “Poor Piccolo would go purple and run off whenever he did that.”
“Speaking of Goten,” Trunks said, “he’s…new. The, uh, “me” of this timeline seems to like him, though.”
“Oh, yeah, they’re best friends.” Gohan stood and stretched. “I’m glad. I didn’t want Goten growing up without many friends his own age like I did.”
When he turned back to Trunks, he thought he caught Trunks staring at his body, but his eyes snapped away before he could be sure. “That’s good. They seem pretty carefree. I’m glad there’s at least one timeline where that happened.”
“Me, too.” Gohan offered Trunks a hand up. “It’s getting late. Want to head out?”
Trunks took his hand and Gohan relished the warmth it gave for the brief contact they shared. “I should probably get back to Capsule Corp. You could come for dinner, if you want,” he suggested. “I don’t think Mom—I mean Bulma—I mean—she wouldn’t mind.”
“That’d be—” Gohan stopped mid-sentence as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He clutched his head and moaned.
“Gohan? What’s—” Trunks’s eyes went wide and he stumbled forward, bumping into Gohan’s chest. The two of them clutched each other for stability for a moment, then there was a sharp pain in Gohan’s lower back and he yelled, and then there was nothing. The dizziness and pain were gone.
And he was clutching Trunks’s shoulders and moaning into his chest.
“I’m so sorry!” he blurted, stumbling back. “I don’t know what came over—augh!” He lost his footing and fell back, stubbing his tail on the way down.
Wait.
Tail?
Trunks still seemed disoriented. He stumbled sideways and swayed and—that was a tail coming from his lower back.
Gohan swallowed, rubbed his eyes, looked again. Yep, that was a tail. He looked down at the ground behind him and sure enough, there was a long, brown monkey tail, the same kind he’d had as a kid. He tried to wiggle it, and it moved. He shakily pulled himself to his feet, and the tail went with him.
Trunks stared from Gohan’s to his own tail and back, eyes wide and face pale. He gave voice to the thought running through Gohan’s mind:
“What the fuck.”

Gohan buried his face in his hands. “I’m going to kill them.”
Bulma glanced at him. “No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” Gohan admitted. “But Goten is in so much trouble right now.” His tail twitched and he flinched. “I just want this taken off again. I’m so used to not having one that growing it back again is…weird.”
“I’ve never had one.” Trunks took a wobbly step—he’d never walked with a tail and it was throwing his balance off. “Mom had it removed when I was a baby. It’s…kind of cool, actually.”
“I agree with Trunks.” Bulma crossed one leg over the other and gestured with her cigarette. “I knew Son with a tail for so long that seeing him without one is still kind of weird, even now.” She smiled fondly up at Gohan. “You look so much like your dad, you know that? And now even more.”
“Well, they shouldn’t have done it without our permission,” Gohan said sourly, folding his arms. “I don’t care how curious they were, this wasn’t okay. What an irresponsible use of the Dragon Balls! And why couldn’t they have just wished for their own tails back, anyway? If they were just curious what they looked like, I’m pretty sure my mom has baby pictures somewhere.”
Trunks shook his head. “I’m pretty sure that’s where the other me said he got the idea from.”
“Fantastic.” Gohan dropped Bulma’s work bench and buried his head in his hands. “This is just what I need. How am I supposed to pretend I’m just a normal human now?”
“Want me to rip it off for you?” Trunks asked, holding out his hands.
Gohan shrank away from him. “It’ll hurt.”
“Gohan.” Bulma fixed him with a hard stare. “You’ve died.”
“So?” Gohan’s tail wrapped protectively around his waist. “It’ll hurt.”
Trunks shook his head. “It’ll hurt no matter what you do.”
“Alright, guys, listen, I’m flattered that I was the first person you thought to come to when this happened.” Bulma uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, arms resting on her knees. “But really, all I can tell you is that you’re going to either have to get rid of your tails the old-fashioned way, or wait a year to find Shenron again and have them wished off. And that,” she said with a pointed look at Gohan, “would be a real waste of the Dragon Balls.”
The tip of Gohan’s tail beat a steady rhythm against his leg. The movement was almost hypnotic. Trunks couldn’t take his eyes off it. “I’ll think about it,” Gohan said.
“I might keep mine.” Trunks ran his thumb over the end of it. “I mean, in my time, I’m the only Saiyan left. May as well keep the heritage alive, right?”
This time it was Trunks who Bulma smiled fondly at. “You’re a good kid, Trunks. I’m sure your mother’s proud.” She winked. “And I should know.”

Trunks couldn’t sleep. He was too hot, and something was setting him on edge. His vision would randomly go blurry and his head would spin, then suddenly everything would clear away and he could try to force his shaky breathing back to normal. He wanted to punch something, and maybe fuck something, and then probably have a snack. Everything felt wrong, and his tail wrapped itself around his leg and squeezed. The pain helped ground him a little, but not for long, and soon his head was spinning again.
He didn’t know how long he’d tossed and turned and failed to sleep for before he got fed up and threw his legs off the side of the bed. Maybe, for once, he’d take a page from his father’s book and go to the gravity chamber, train until he collapsed. His roaring blood told him that sounded like a fantastic idea, and off he went.
Trunks stumbled through Capsule Corp, being wary not to wake anyone. He didn’t want Bulma to see him like this and worry. He was fine, probably. Just…needed to train, and then have sex, and then eat six pizzas.
The gravity chamber was in use when Trunks got to it, and he wasn’t surprised, even though it was the middle of the night. He tapped out the passcode to get in and nearly fell on his ass when the room’s increased gravity hit him. At his shout of surprise (and more than a little pain), the gravity suddenly decreased and Vegeta appeared in front of him.
He looked up at Trunks disdainfully, casting a critical eye over his arms and chest, sneering at his new tail, before glaring at him. “You,” he said, “have been slacking.”
“I-I haven’t—” Trunks protested.
“You’re worse than Gohan,” Vegeta snapped. “Peace time comes and you whelps think it’s alright to stop training! What happens when another threat comes along? There’s always a bigger fish, boy.”
Normally, Trunks just let Vegeta’s words roll off him. Shouting and ranting and demanding perfection was all normal for him, and in some cases it was even his twisted way of showing he cared. But tonight—his blood boiled and his head hurt, and his face twisted into a snarl.
“I’m not a boy! I’m a man, a man who’s saved the world more times than you!” His hands curled into fists. “And I’m tired of your insults!”
Vegeta looked surprised for a split second before a knife-sharp grin cut across his face. “So that’s how it is tonight, is it?” And before Trunks could say anything—or even regret his actions—Vegeta was on him, and they were trading blows.
Trunks was on autopilot, not even bothering to dodge, taking as many blows as he dished out. His blood sang and his tail lashed wildly and someone was laughing maniacally—was it him or his father? Then Vegeta reared back and with one last blow sent him slamming into the chamber wall.
He wobbled and fell on his face, struggling to breathe. Vegeta landed in front of him, wiping blood from his mouth. “I take it back,” he slurred. “You have been training.”
If Trunks didn’t know better, he would have thought Vegeta sounded impressed. He slowly, painfully, pushed himself to his knees. “Don’t patronize me,” he said, and he’d tried for a growl but it came out more like a whine.
Vegeta laughed and crouched in front of him. “The Earthlings have a saying, you know, about apples and trees.” He shoved Trunks and he fell onto his backside, narrowly avoiding squashing his tail. “You’re lucky you—” Vegeta paused, sniffed the air. He grabbed Trunks by the front of the tank top he was wearing as a pajama shirt and yanked him forward to bury his nose in his hair.
Trunks squirmed. “Father, this is—this is weird.”
Vegeta shoved him away, all laughing playfulness replaced with confused disgust. “By the great gods, boy. You’re in heat.”
“I—what?” Trunks wrinkled his nose. “That’s a thing?”
Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose. “I never thought I’d actually have to give this talk. She always insisted on removing the tail, so I assumed—” He sighed and settled cross legged in front of Trunks. “You know how sex works already, I’m assuming?”
Trunks’s face turned bright red and he choked on any words he might have said.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Well, for Saiyans—particularly Saiyans whose tails are intact—there’s a special…type of sex.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Trunks declared, standing up. This was so weird and disgusting. Getting a “birds and bees” talk from an alternate version of his father right after they beat each other up.
“Shut up and sit down; you could seriously hurt yourself if you don’t do this right.” Vegeta pointed, and Trunks sat. “Look, basically because you have a tail now, you’re going through puberty late.”
“I already went through puberty.”
“Then you’re going through it again, I’m not wasting time on semantics, boy! The point is, you need to procreate. Soon. I’m guessing you’re feeling hot and dizzy and generally like shit, and that’s why you came here?”
Trunks nodded. “I wanted—I needed to fight someone.”
“And then bang someone, and then eat for a million years.” Vegeta shrugged. “Puberty.”
“D-do—” Trunks blushed. “Do I have to have—I mean I don’t even know who I’d—I don’t know anyone my age!” A memory of Gohan helpfully came to the forefront of his brain. But—no, Gohan was—he couldn’t ask Gohan to— “Oh, no,” he murmured, hands flying to his face. “Gohan’s going to have this too; we’re the same age now.”
“That’s not my problem. You might be able to take care of it by yourself, but I don’t think so. This has to be with someone else. Don’t ask me why; I don’t know or care. But yes, you do have to fuck someone, or get fucked, I don’t care which, but do it soon, because otherwise you’re going to literally go crazy with lust.” He wrinkled his nose. “Seen it happen. It’s not fun.”
Trunks climbed shakily to his feet. “I—I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t take too long,” Vegeta advised him, standing up and heading towards the control panel. “Deal with it soon or you’re in big trouble, and I’m not cleaning up your mess.”

Alright. So. He could do this by himself.
It wasn’t like Trunks had never done it before. He’d been a horny, confused teenager in an apocalyptic wasteland—it wasn’t like he had a lot of options. Trunks had a few old scavenged beefcake magazines hidden under his mattress that he’d pull out every now and then when the stress was too much. His mother had either not known or pretended not to.
So he could definitely do this by himself. But he didn’t have anything to jumpstart the process. (Well, Bulma probably did. But there was no way in hell he was snooping through his mother’s stuff to find her dirty mags, even if it wasn’t technically his mother.)
That didn’t matter, though. He’d be fine. Trunks sat against his headboard with his pants off and gave himself an experimental stroke. His dick twitched and he did it again. Soon he was giving himself a slow, thorough hand job, and his eyes slid shut as he let his mind wander.
Trunks wondered how Gohan was handling this. If maybe he’d had the same urges Trunks was having—fight, sex, eat. Maybe he’d gotten up in the night, gone outside, blown up a few trees or mountains until he was exhausted. His hips lifted off the bed and his tail wrapped tightly around his wrist as he dug his fingers into the bedsheets.
Maybe Gohan was doing the same thing Trunks was doing now, pleasuring himself as best he could. Trunks moaned at the thought and sped his hand up. He’d be all hot and sweaty after his “fight,” chest heaving, that beautiful body glistening with sweat. He’d go turn the shower on and step inside, moaning at the feeling of the hot water on his skin. Then he’d run his hands all over himself and gasp and groan and jerk himself to hardness. The water from the shower would make it a nice, easy, slick glide for his hand and—maybe he’d slide a finger into himself, too, imagining he was being fucked by someone.
Maybe he was imagining Trunks like Trunks was imagining him.
Trunks threw his head back and screamed Gohan’s name as he came before collapsing against the headboard. He gulped in huge breaths and slowly brought his hand to a stop. Shaking, he lifted his hand and stared and the sticky, clearish goop covering it. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. That was—he’d never—he’d never thought about Gohan like that before. Of course he hadn’t; he was just a kid the last time Trunks saw him. But ever since he came back, he found himself staring at him, noticing him in a new way. This wasn’t the same Gohan he’d left behind, it wasn’t even the same Gohan he’d known in his time. He was his own man now, a completely new Gohan, who liked goofy superhero outfits and spent so much time studying that even his overprotective mother worried about him sometimes. And there was just something so endearing to him, not to mention attractive. He’d watched the way Gohan’s muscles rippled under his clothes when they’d talked before, and they rippled beautifully.
This was awful, it was stupid, he shouldn’t be thinking about Gohan like this. But his blood still pounded in his ears, still cried for sex. Vegeta was right—his heat wouldn’t be sated unless he had sex with another person. And there was really only one option Trunks had for that.
He just hoped Gohan would understand.

“He’s not feeling well,” Gohan heard Chi-Chi say from the hallway outside his room. “So don’t tax him too much, alright dear?”
“I won’t.” That was Trunks’s voice, and Gohan groaned and contemplated smothering himself with a pillow for the umpteenth time that day. This was just what he needed after last night. He hadn’t slept a wink; he’d been too busy punching trees until his knuckles bled and then—
He still couldn’t think about what happened next without wanting to either scream or do it again. Gohan’s tail wrapped protectively around himself. This was awful.
The door opened and his mother’s head stuck inside. “Honey, Trunks is here.” She paused. “The…the older one, not Goten’s friend.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Gohan said, rolling onto his side and drawing the blankets up to his chin. He watched sideways as the Trunks of the future walked in, looking somehow both awkward and bold. Behind him, Chi-Chi closed the door quietly. “Hey,” said Gohan, trying to act casual. “You, uh. How’s your tail?”
Trunks sat cross legged next to Gohan’s bed so they were eye level. “There’s a problem.”
Gohan’s blood froze. It was almost a nice change from how heated it had been for the last twelve hours. “What kind of problem?” he asked, sitting up. “Is everything okay? Did something happen in the future? Do you need my help?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Trunks reassured him. “It’s a little more, um, personal.” He flushed and dropped his gaze to his lap. “So because we’ve got tails now, there’s, um, there’s kind of a thing that goes along with that, see.”
Gohan raised an eyebrow. “A thing.”
“Yeah.” Trunks tapped his thumbs together. “I’m not sure how to put this, but, well…” He took a deep breath, then blurted “We need to have sex.”
Gohan stared at him. “P-pardon?!”
“See, because of our tails we’re in heat, since we never went through Saiyan puberty without them, I guess, so we have to have sex soon or we’re gonna go insane.” Trunks paused. “Now that I’ve said it out loud it sounds really stupid.”
“No, it doesn’t.” It did, but Gohan didn’t want to say that. Suddenly his behavior from the night before made so much more sense. “Does this…heat thing make you want to fight stuff? And really hungry? Like even hungrier than usual?”
Trunks nodded vigorously. “Yeah, last night I went and fought Fath—um, Vegeta, because I just couldn’t get the itch out of my system.” His tail reached up to brush Gohan’s hand, and Trunks quickly jerked it away. “And then, I, uh, tried to take care of the, um, s-sexual part by myself.” He swallowed, face red hot. “It didn’t work.”
Gohan scooted forward. “So you’re saying that if we don’t have sex…”
“It’ll be bad,” Trunks confirmed. “I don’t know what’ll happen, exactly, but I don’t really want to find out, either.”
Gohan rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Well, we can’t do it here.”
Trunks’s head snapped up. “S-so you’ll do it?”
“It’s not like we have much of a choice, right?” Gohan joked. His heart thundered in his chest and his blood sang. This was the opportunity of a lifetime—probably the only opportunity for this he’d get in any lifetime. There was no way he’d pass it up, even if the stakes hadn’t been so high. “But if we do it here, my mom’ll find us out.”
“We can go back to Capsule Corp,” Trunks suggested. He leaned forward, eyes wide, and was it Gohan’s imagination or was his breathing a little shallower? “Bulma gave me my own room for however long I’m staying—we could go there.”
Gohan looked over at Trunks and leaned towards him just a touch. “That’ll work. I’ll meet you there in an hour?”
Trunks nodded and swallowed. “Okay.”
Gohan’s tail slipped out and ran under Trunks’s chin, curling up to tug him forward so Gohan could plant his lips on Trunks’s. “It’s a date,” he said when he pulled back.
Trunks’s eyes were wide and round as dinner plates. “R-right, date, okay.” Then, he was on his feet and gone from the room. The only evidence he’d been there at all was the door he left open behind him.
Gohan groaned and rolled onto his back. He’d blown it. It really was just sex for Trunks—important sex, but just sex. There was nothing else there, and Gohan was going to have to live with it.
But fuck if he wasn’t going to give Trunks the best lay of his life.

Trunks paced around his bed, making sure everything was in place. He had lube, and condoms, and about six pillows. That should be enough, right? Maybe he should get more pillows.
He was just so nervous. It was his first time with someone else, and it was under these circumstances, and it was with Gohan. A man who, until last night, he hadn’t thought about sexually, but now all he could think of was Gohan, Gohan touching him, Gohan sucking him, Gohan inside him—
A knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He opened it and quickly ushered Gohan inside. His hands trembled with a heady combination of nerves and need, but he managed to keep his voice steady. “You made it.”
Gohan shed his jacket and draped it on the back of the desk chair in the corner. “I wasn’t going to miss this.”
Trunks couldn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the jacket—it just made everything seem so—normal, almost, sort of domestic. Gohan coming home after a long day and draping his jacket over a chair, asking Trunks how his day was with a smile and a kiss. He could see it so clearly, and he had no idea why he hadn’t thought about this before now.
Gohan’s hand cupped his face and turned it back to him. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he said, and he kissed Trunks.
Trunks’s hands gripped Gohan’s waist. It was exactly what he’d imagined kissing Gohan would be like: sweet, soft, loving. It was beautiful, and Trunks wanted more of it. He pushed harder, nipped at Gohan’s lips, slid his arms to wrap around his waist. Their tails tangled together so much that it was nearly impossible to tell which tail belonged to who. Gohan’s tongue met Trunks’s and their kiss turned heated, sloppy, Trunks’s head spinning. He was wearing too many clothes and he wanted to touch Gohan everywhere and throw him down and be thrown down and oh, everything Gohan would give him Trunks would take gladly.
They broke it off when Gohan’s hands, which had been gripping the back of Trunks’s shirt, accidentally ripped the whole thing in two. Gohan pulled back, blinking owlishly at the shredded clothes in his hands. “Sorry,” he said, trying in vain to put it back together. “I didn’t—”
Trunks struggled out of it and tossed it away before yanking Gohan’s shirt over his head. “I don’t care; I don’t like that shirt much anyway. Gohan, touch me. Please.”
Somehow they made it to the bed, naked and grinding against each other with hands roaming. Gohan gasped beneath Trunks as he nipped and sucked a nipple, rubbing the other between his fingers. “Oh—Trunks—yes,” Gohan gasped, tangling a hand in Trunks’s hair. Trunks groaned and jerked his head back into Gohan’s hold. “You like that?” Gohan murmured, and Trunks nodded, gasping in pleasure when Gohan tugged on his hair again. “Oh, Trunks, I’m so glad you grew this out again,” he said, and he gave another tug as he slid his other hand down to grab at Trunks’s ass. Trunks whined and buried his face in Gohan’s neck, kissing and biting. “It always suited you best, and it’s—it’s so good to grab, look at you, you’re already so gone for this. Trunks, if I knew you—I—”
Trunks sat up, rolling his hips into Gohan’s, effectively cutting off his words. “Gohan, I need you in me right now.”
Gohan’s face was already flushed, but now it darkened further. “O-okay.” And suddenly Trunks was the one on his back, and Gohan was looking around even as he shuffled back to get himself better positioned. “Do you have any—I didn’t think we’d be going this far.”
Trunks groped around under one of the pillows for the lube he’d stashed away and handed it to Gohan, along with one of the condoms. “I’ve never done this,” he said as Gohan fumbled with the cap. “I mean, I’ve—I’ve thought about it, and I’ve, uh,” he swallowed, “p-played with myself, but never—not with another person.”
“Me neither.” Gohan offered him a smile, but it was tipped with lust and looked far more predatory than Gohan was probably going for. “But I’ll try to make it good for you—for both of us.” He pushed a slick finger into Trunks and Trunks squirmed. It was good, but he just wasn’t used to it. So he nodded, and Gohan moved, and Trunks’s hips thrust back, and his tail ran itself through Gohan’s hair. Gohan let out a pleased hum at the contact and added another finger. Trunks winced. The stretch wasn’t that bad, but he hadn’t done this to himself in a long time.
Suddenly, there was a mouth on his dick and he drew in a shuddering breath. He struggled to keep his eyes open to watch as Gohan sucked him and fingered him at the same time, and oh that was an image he’d carry with him forever. Trunks gasped out Gohan’s name, and Gohan looked up at him with a wicked gleam in his eye before sticking another finger in and Trunks was going to lose it. “Gohan, please,” he groaned. His fingers curled in the bedsheets, his head spun, his blood roared, his tail twisted through Gohan’s hair. “Please, Gohan, I need you now, please…”
He almost cried when Gohan moved off him and out of him. Trunks looked up at the sound of Gohan’s labored breathing. He ripped the condom open and guided it onto himself with shaky hands, and Trunks shivered at the realization that he was going to get fucked by Gohan, this was a real thing that was about to happen, and he wanted it, oh he wanted it so badly. He whimpered, and Gohan lined himself up, his tail caressing Trunks’s face.
And then he pushed in—slowly, torturously slowly, and it wasn’t that Gohan was particularly big (although he was definitely not small, either) so much as he was bigger than Trunks was really ready for, but he welcomed it, he welcomed the stretch and the pain and when Gohan was all the way inside him he struggled to breathe. Gohan held himself over Trunks, arms shaking from the effort of holding still, and he stared wide-eyed into Trunks’s face, like he was only just realizing the reality of it all too. “Trunks,” he said, and his voice was pinched and strangled, “Trunks I can’t hold back, I want to go hard, Trunks, I need to move—”
He stopped when Trunks grabbed his face and crashed their lips together. “So move,” Trunks growled against his mouth before capturing it again.
Gohan didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out and slammed back in, again and again, a guttural growl rising in his throat as he kissed Trunks forcefully. Trunks wrapped his legs around Gohan’s hips and cried out when he hit something that had him seeing stars, and they were wrapped up in each other. It was impossible to tell where Trunks ended and Gohan began, they were the same person for a beautiful, brief moment, and Gohan grabbed Trunks’s cock and started stroking it in time with his thrusts and Trunks may have been saying something, but he also might have been screaming. And then the world went white and he was coming and clinging to Gohan for dear life and howling his pleasure, and Gohan’s hips jerked and he was moaning Trunks’s name in his ear, over and over, and Trunks would give anything, anything, even his own life, to keep this moment from ending…
But end it did, and when Trunks could focus again Gohan was collapsed on top of him, breathing hard and drenched in sweat and more gorgeous than Trunks had ever seen him. He nudged Gohan and he pulled out, rolling onto his back and gazing dazedly at Trunks. “Wow” was all Gohan said, one arm flung over his forehead.
Trunks nodded and went to remove the condom. “Yeah.”
They lay there for a moment, basking in their shared afterglow. Trunks could feel himself drifting off, and it was—it was so nice, to be wrapped up in Gohan’s arms, soaking in each other’s heat. Gohan’s tail wrapped protectively around Trunks’s hips, and Trunks shyly wound his tail around Gohan’s. If Gohan asked, he could always just say it was because of the afterglow. A thought wormed its way into his head—you’ll never have this again, he doesn’t love you and now that your heat’s sated you have no reason to do this again—and he did his best to push it away. That was later. Right now, he just wanted to pretend that they meant something to each other, even for just a little while.
Gohan leaned over and cupped Trunks’s chin, pulling him back up for another kiss, just as sweet and soft and loving as their first. “I love you,” he murmured when he pulled back.
Trunks flushed. “Th-that’s just the afterglow talking, Gohan, you don’t—”
“No, Trunks, please.” Gohan moved closer and took Trunks’s face in his hands. “I’ve loved you for so long, and—I was afraid that if I said anything before we did this you’d be grossed out and not want to do it, but I can’t hold it in anymore, Trunks I love you—”
Trunks crashed their lips together, and it wasn’t very romantic but it got his point across. “You too,” he said, moving back, “I love you too.”
Gohan’s mouth fell open a little in shock. “You—really?”
Trunks nodded and rested his forehead against Gohan’s. “I don’t know when it happened, but I’ve fallen in love with you, Gohan. I don’t know how it’s going to work, I—I can’t stay here forever, I have to go back to my timeline and I can’t leave Mom there by herself, but—” Tears started welling up in his eyes, and oh he was turning into a weepy idiot. “B-but I want to be with you, Gohan, I want—I want to stay.”
There was a long silence while Trunks sobbed and Gohan did his best to kiss his tears away. “Shh, Trunks, it’s okay,” he whispered, running his fingers through Trunks’s hair. “We’ll figure things out, I promise. You can bring your mom here—she and Bulma would get along like a house on fire, and we can live together and I—I’ll get a job, and it’ll all work out, you’ll see! Please don’t cry, Trunks, I love you, I want you to be happy, we’re finally together, so please don’t cry!”
Trunks struggled to get himself back under control. He wasn’t out of control angry or aroused anymore, so it was easier than it had been for the last day. “We’re a pair of idiots, aren’t we?” he said, wiping his face. “I can’t believe it took a heat cycle to get us together.”
Gohan rested his forehead against Trunks’s. “Should we go thank Goten and the other Trunks?”
“We are never telling them about this ever.” Gohan giggled and Trunks pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Gohan. So much.”
Gohan’s eyes closed and a loving smile crossed his lips. “I love you too.”