It's dangerous for Trunks to stand this close to Gohan. But he knows that, doesn't he? The little shit's wallowing in his sexual power, when he plants his feet right in front of Gohan and bends over to touch his toes.
He is only fifteen; if it was anyone else, Gohan would chalk up parading around shirtless, with white pants so tight they looked painted on, as youthful foley. But this isn't anyone else. This is trouble, incarnate. "Hey, you wanna spar?"
He thinks this is a game. He thinks he can push Gohan into doing something right here, on the Capsule Corps lawn. It won't happen. It won't ever, ever happen. He's not that person. He's a husband and father; he will live up to his commitments and forget about this insane chemical reaction.
"Find Goten." God, Trunks' puberty hit Gohan like a meteor. The shit is every bit as beautiful as his future counterpart. But the cocky smirks, the exhibitionism... Trunks actually stripped down to his boxers the last time Gohan was here. (Something about taking a shower and the heat or some such bullshit? He couldn't hear it over the roar of his adrenaline rush.) Yes, he needs to bother Gohan's little brother. Goten is good at pretending to be oblivious, just like their father. He'd better do it, quickly, because Gohan is about to snap.
Trunks laughs. "Maybe you wanna do something else?" He's coming closer, reaching for him – don't! – taking his hand – stop! – and
And
His tongue is wet. His mouth is hot. His breath hisses over Gohan's skin as he sucks one finger, then two.
"Stop."
He shakes his head and bites, hard. It's quick but it's effective: Gohan's adrenaline spikes. The little shit thinks he can override his will, control him and use him like a plaything.
"I said -" he yanks his hand back and jams a quick fist into Trunks' gut "- stop."
He's doubled over, coughing and laughing. "Wow..."
"No, not wow. Touch me again and you'll regret it."
He instantly regrets letting his temper do the talking, because Trunks, being every bit the son of Vegeta, isn't going to take that as anything less than a challenge. His eyes already have an unholy gleam. "Oh, I hope so." He's back up, licking his lips and ready for more. He leans in close and whispers: "I wanna do a lot of regrettable things with you." Then he touches him, there, cupping and squeezing him as if he owns Gohan.
Gohan can't control the growl. He can't contain the darkness. He will take him, throw him down and fuck him into the ground until he learns what it means to play with a monst-
No.
Gohan steps back. He turns around. He closes his eyes and remembers, not who he is, but who he wants to be. If he can hold that image in his mind he can make it as authentic as his own name.
"Come on, man. You're totally hard. Don't pretend you don't wanna..."
The little shit has no idea what he's inviting, and it's better that way. Gohan will leave this place and never come back. He will maintain his identity as a loving father and husband, a scholar and a friend. He will not – ever – allow this shit to make him act like something he doesn't want to be, even if it's who he is.
Especially because it's who he is.
