Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

It came up again when they were at home, relaxing, because that was always when these things came up. When they were both rested up from the last vacation, and ready to talk about the next one. Gohan was stretched out on the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, Trunks between his legs with his back against Gohan’s chest, Gohan reading a book while Trunks dozed a bit to the sound of his lover’s calm, relaxed voice reading to him. Suddenly, one of Trunks’s hands went out, covering the page from Gohan’s view and Gohan smiled and kissed the top of his head.

“You know, when you do that, I can’t read the next part,” he said, and Trunks shifted down in his arms to look at him, blue eyes bright, and slightly calculating. Oh no. “You’re thinking of another one.”

“Haven’t you been?” Trunks asked, something slightly sly in his voice, and Gohan gave him a look. “What?”

“You sold me last time,” he said, his tone a touch reproachful, and Trunks nearly rolled his eyes.

“Still sore about that, are we?” he asked, looking at Gohan again, one hand raising to gently brush along his jaw, and Gohan’s resolve and hard gaze didn’t waver despite the touch. Trunks sighed, dropping his hand away again. “Alright, I promise I won’t do it again,” he said, and Gohan nodded, satisfied, smiling at him again. “Besides, I had something new in mind for this time.”

“Oh?” Gohan asked, raising his eyebrows, and Trunks smiled, something definitely wicked in it.

“Oh,” he answered, and tapped the book, indicating that Gohan keep reading. Gohan supposed that was as much information as he was going to get today, and began to read again, voice clear, calm, controlled. He was sure that whatever Trunks had planned would be both exhausting and exhilarating, as Trunks always somehow seemed to strike that perfect balance between the two on their little “vacations”. Funny, that they still called them that despite the fact that for Gohan, it wasn’t much of a vacation at all, all his vacation time consisting of hard work. And sex, of course. There was the sex. Very good sex, fantastic sex, actually. He supposed in that respect, it was a vacation.

Still. Trunks was inventively cruel with his setting choices, and sometimes Gohan’s muscles still twinged with the memory of how hard he’d been worked last time, on the farm. And sold too, but clearly whatever setting Trunks had in mind this time wasn’t conducive to that, and besides, he’d promised. And despite any other failings he might have, Gohan knew he could trust Trunks’s promises.

***

Of course, Trunks’s idea of a change of scenery was certainly a…loose definition. Well. Not loose exactly. It definitely was a change of scenery, both from their cozy little house as well as the countryside they’d been to last time, but the question remained as to whether or not it was a good change of scenery.

A bootcamp.

Complete with barracks, and an obstacle course, and high hills for long hikes, and even a uniform for Gohan to wear that at first, he didn’t want to put on. Because that would mean starting this whole thing, and he had a feeling that Trunks was going to wear him out even more than he had the first time with this whole thing. Somehow, he just knew that he would.

But the day wasn’t bad. Trunks toured the bootcamp with Gohan, giving him instructions that Gohan had to remember by himself, without the aid of a notepad or anything else to write anything down with. So he made a quick mental list and set to work as soon as Trunks dismissed him, Trunks going off to do…whatever it was that Trunks did when they weren’t together, with the promise to come back to inspect his work.

And it was a lot of work; it wasn’t like Gohan didn’t have anything to do or that it was incredibly easy, but it was certainly easier than what he had expected from Trunks. Maybe this was Trunks’s way of apologizing for selling him out last time, giving him over to another farm for the time that they’d both missed each other and Gohan had still been rather upset about when considering their next vacation.

So Gohan did his cleaning without complaining, scrubbing at the floor on his hands and knees, washing the walls, polishing the faucets in the showers. He cleaned up the greasy mess hall, swept, mopped, wiped down grease-coated stoves and counters in the kitchen. And by the end of the day and the end of the work, he was tired, yes, but not incredibly sore, just somewhat stiff in his neck and back. Which was fine, as he stood at attention, waiting for Trunks to finish his inspection of the cleaning, the day already tripping into early evening.

“Good work, soldier,” Trunks said, and Gohan felt something in him preen at the praise. Just a bit. “You may return to your barracks for the evening.”

But, Gohan thought as he returned to his resting place for the night, taking advantage of the early night to get some sleep in, that had seemed altogether too easy. He had a feeling that Trunks had to have something else planned, he must, right? Because that had been easier than last time, and each vacation Trunks seemed to kick what they were doing up a notch. So this had to just be the start.

That suspicion was confirmed when he was woken up in the middle of the first night with a megaphone shouting at him, right by his ear, and he scrambled, scrabbled, slipped out of bed to hit the floor with a thump, looking up at Trunks with wild eyes and a fast beating heart. Trunks was dressed up as a drill sergeant, the outfit completed by the megaphone in his hands, as well as the whistle hanging around his neck. And, of course, a smirk that claimed his lips, let Gohan know exactly how much he was enjoying this already.

“Up and at ‘em, Private,” Trunks said, and his smirk smoldered. “We have work to do.”

Gohan got dressed as quickly as he could, under Trunks’s watchful eyes, Trunks occasionally barking an order to move faster, and finally, Gohan was led out of the barracks and into the wan light of the moon overhead. The sky was still black, not even turning gray with the start of the morning, and suddenly, he knew that it was going to be a very long day indeed. Because, most likely, Trunks was counting this as the start of his morning.

He stood at attention as best he could, hands folded neatly behind himself, shoulders back, spine stiff and straight, and waited for further instructions as Trunks prowled around him, inspecting his posture, sizing him up. He felt a swat across his ass and jumped into a straighter posture, realizing in his sleepy, dazed state he hadn’t noticed that Trunks was carrying the riding crop he’d just swatted Gohan with. Oh great. A new toy for him.

“Better,” Trunks said after a moment, and stepped back in front of Gohan again. “You will address me as sir unless otherwise directed, understood?”

“Yes sir,” Gohan answered, though it hardly needed to be said. After all, that had been the rule since vacation number one, on the cruise.

Trunks nodded his head to a backpack waiting by the side of the barracks and said, “Put that on. It has supplies for our breakfast in it as well as a few…extra supplies.” He smiled when Gohan gave him a suspicious look, then raised the crop to get Gohan into motion. Gohan picked up the backpack and nearly tipped over; the whole thing was incredibly heavy, the contents ill-balanced. He shifted about with it for a moment before it settled on his back, the contents barely shifting the whole time, the whole thing packed to the brim. He looked at Trunks again, who smiled and said, “Let’s go,” leading the way off towards a hiking trail at the other end of the camp.

At first, it wasn’t that bad. An easy trail with a light incline, the pack heavy but at least a manageable weight. And then they reached the rocks. It wasn’t a solid wall of rocks; no, that would be too much, especially considering they were moving by the light of the moon and slowly dawning sun, plus Trunks’s flashlight beam. It was just piles of them, all dug solidly into the earth, made for climbing on and around. And Gohan would have to navigate them with the heavy pack, a task that he wasn’t looking forward to in the slightest.

A shrill whistle split his ears and he jumped, looking over at Trunks, who parted his lips, letting the whistle drop from his mouth. “Go on, get going,” he said, and Gohan turned back to face the rocks, sizing them up and gathering his inner peace before he began to climb. And it was god awful.

Every step and each reach of his arms to the next rock was torture, every moment bound in pain and an ache that was rapidly settling into his muscles deeply, deeply. But he continued on, even as the sun broke over the horizon and the sky turned from gray into a soft pink, orange burning around the edges of the sky. Clouds lit up with the radiance of the sun from underneath, and it would have been a beautiful sight to watch, if not for how tired he was already.

He missed a step and nearly stumbled, finding a hand catching his elbow to steady him that was rescinded the second he regained his balance. Trunks, of course, showing that he cared. That this was all part of the game, and the game would have a reward at its end. Always, always, always. That was the one thing that Gohan knew with certainty. Despite what happened on these vacations, Trunks loved him more than anything, and this was just play for them both. A way to relieve tension, and enjoy each other in new ways.

Somehow, despite Gohan knowing that every time, it still hit him anew with each vacation. Just how much Trunks loved him. How much he cared. And it gave Gohan the strength he needed to continue up on the climb, that little touch from Trunks enough to reassure him and help him on his way.

Steadily, he made his way up the rocks, and finally, reached the top.

The view was stunning. Absolutely amazing, wilderness for miles around, the forest lit up with the golden glow of the sun peeking over the thin line of the horizon to the east, which was his left. Trunks clambered up behind him shortly, Gohan helping him up, and said nonchalantly, “You can set the pack down now. It’s time for breakfast.”

So Gohan finally took the weight off his shoulders, feeling peculiarly light the second it was gone, and definitely sore. And he saw exactly why it’d been so heavy when Trunks opened it and instantly began to pull out rocks after rocks after rocks after—at the very bottom was a hard case no doubt filled with their breakfast supplies, and Trunks pulled it free at last, setting it on the ground and popping it open.

The breakfast, at least, was as rich and full as it could get with army rations, mostly focused on the energy he’d need to get back down the mountain than any actual taste, but that was alright. Gohan was so tired that he was barely hungry, but the second the food passed his lips, he was suddenly starving and had to pace himself to eat everything with an even pace. This time, unlike on the farm, Trunks let him take his time with the food, and Gohan was glad for it. Soon, the sun was up entirely, wan and thin in the morning mist, but there all the same, lighting up things in golden pink and rose gold. It was beautiful, and he knew that that had been a subtle move on Trunks’s part. A nearly romantic breakfast, despite the circumstances.

So they took their time on the top of the hill—because it wasn’t quite a mountain, Gohan could see that now with his view—and then Trunks repacked the bag with the rocks and the case, and Gohan shouldered it, bolstered for the walk down by his breakfast and the fact that he’d seen Trunks sneak out a few rocks when he thought Gohan wasn’t paying attention. Caring, always so caring underneath it all.

They walked back down, and though the journey back was easier, by the time they got to the base of the trail Gohan’s stomach was rumbling again and Trunks was looking as composed as ever, despite Gohan being a sweaty mess.

“Lunch,” Trunks said lightly, and led the way into the mess hall, signaling for Gohan to follow. He let him take the pack off in the mess hall, and Gohan was relieved as he sat down to a hot meal with Trunks, though Trunks sat on top of the table, looking down at Gohan and occasionally blowing his whistle to startle him, remind him of who had the power here. Who was in control.

Gohan was just about ready for a nap by the time lunch was done, belly full of warm food and his muscles aching, sore, ready for rest, but he had a sneaking suspicion that that wasn’t Trunks’s plan for the day. That was confirmed as Trunks got up off the table, dropping his tray on it with a clatter and saying, “Clean up our trays in the kitchen, then meet me by the obstacle course. It’s east of the barracks.”

And with that, he left, hips swaying slightly as he walked in a way that had Gohan’s attention caught, completely fixed on Trunks’s ass as he left the room. He shook himself out of it, reminding himself that there would no doubt be a reward at the end of all of this for him, or even just the end of the day, and got up, beginning to clean up. He did it quickly and efficiently, feeling like a true soldier for the moment, and then headed out to meet Trunks.

The gray sky had turned more gray in the time he’d been inside, and it was starting to spit, starting to drizzle just a bit, which made what was facing him suddenly seem much worse. A dry dirt obstacle course that was rapidly turning into a muddy one, and Trunks blew his whistle sharp, smiling at Gohan as he snapped to attention.

“On my signal, you’re going to complete this course,” he said, and Gohan noted he at least had a hat that was shielding him from what was quickly turning into actual rain. While Gohan had nothing, and noting the barbed wire part of the course, knew that he was about to get filthy with the mud-dirt mixture that was developing on the ground beneath it. “And if you don’t do it fast enough, you’ll have to do it again.”

“How fast—” The question was halfway out of his mouth when Trunks’s whistle blew, and Gohan scrambled to get into motion, starting on the course.

Up, down, over, around. Jumping and climbing and running and crawling, Gohan getting absolutely soaked and filthy dirty as he struggled to complete the course that Trunks had laid out for him, or that had been laid out already, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what condition this course had been in before Trunks got his hands on it, just knew that the barbed wire that occasionally caught up in his clothes, tangling him up, was slowing him down and if he didn’t finish fast enough—

“Time’s up!” Trunks called, and Gohan stared at him, barely halfway through the course. Slowly, he crawled out from under the barbed wire to stand by the side, panting and breathing heavily from trying his damnedest to complete it in time. “Go back to the start and try again, soldier.”

That smirk burned, and Gohan had to bite his tongue to avoid talking back, going back to the beginning of the course.

He ended up going through it five times before Trunks deemed it good enough to stop, and bloody, bruised, and sore, Gohan was sent to shower up for the day, and get dressed in a clean uniform. He took his time in the showers, as Trunks hadn’t given him a time limit, and soon enough he realized why. As Trunks came into the wide open shower area, nude as well, and gently took the soap from Gohan’s hands, beginning to wash down his aching muscles for him. Gohan relaxed under his lover’s careful hands, Trunks massaging gently in slow circles as he used the soap, relieving some of the aches and pains. The minor ones, at least.

When the shower was done, Trunks gently kissed him under the hot stream of water, hand slipping down to loosely stroke Gohan’s member, and Gohan leaned into the touch, mouth dropping open to kiss Trunks heatedly. They swapped open-mouthed kisses and gentle brushes of tongue as they stroked each other, and then Trunks pressed Gohan back against the shower wall, pinning his hands by the side of his head. He slid up against Gohan, slotting their members together as their slick skin slid against each other, friction with just enough lubrication between their equal arousal, between the precome between them and the water still sliding around them.

“What a good soldier,” Trunks purred in Gohan’s ear before biting down on his neck, and Gohan half moaned, half made a noise of pain as the teeth bit hard into his shoulder, deep, wrists flexing against Trunks’s grip, which tightened instantly. Holding Gohan down, whether he wanted to be or not. And didn’t that just send a little thrill through Gohan, the thought of being helpless beneath Trunks, his commanding officer, and his hands, those clever hands.

They desperately frotted against each other, gasping and moaning in equal measure, and Gohan came a few moments before Trunks, the water washing away the evidence of their tryst. Trunks didn’t release Gohan immediately, kissing him again with an open mouth and plenty of tongue and teeth, and Gohan struggled against his hands for a moment while kissing back, enjoying the way Trunks’s grip tightened on him. Then Trunks stepped back, releasing him as he stepped out from under the spray of the water, winking slyly at Gohan before going to dry off, leaving Gohan alone once more, under a spray of water that was steadily getting colder with inattention.

Slowly, he turned off the water, drying off, and redressed, ready for the next task, the next challenge. Whatever it was that Trunks had planned for him, because Gohan had already given himself over to the man mind, body, and soul, and his heart was the last thing he’d carefully placed in Trunks’s hands. And he trusted him with it still.

***

The whistle in the middle of the night shrieked in his ears, waking him up abruptly and forcing him to scramble out of bed, falling to the floor next to Trunks. Seemed he’d have to get used to that. He looked up at Trunks, who was smiling shark slippery and fox sly, and waited for instructions. “At attention, soldier,” Trunks ordered, and Gohan clambered to his feet, stiff muscles tensing as he got into position, hands behind his back, shoulders straight, spine stiff and tense.

Trunks examined him for a moment, looking him over before seeming satisfied with his posture for now, though he gave Gohan a light swat with the riding crop for good measure, Gohan jumping at the contact, light as it was through his clothing. “Good,” Trunks said, and came around to Gohan’s front again. “Ready for your workout, soldier?”

“Yes sir,” Gohan answered immediately, though his aching body disagreed. Still, he followed Trunks without complaint, heading outside the barracks into the half-light made by the combination of the moon and the sun in the sky at the same time, kissing goodbye across the expanse of the horizon.

The workout was arguably better than the obstacle course, and Gohan decided to himself that this was Trunks’s idea of a break for him. He started with jumping jacks, Trunks yelling abuse at how slowly he was going, then transferred to push-ups, Trunks sitting on his back as he worked and worked and worked, moving faster with his motions every time Trunks swatted his ass with the riding crop. Push-ups turned into crunches, Gohan having to reach up and hit Trunk’s hands every time he did a sit-up, though he struggled not to swat too hard, give Trunks a little bit of pain back in return. After sit-ups, he was transferred to pull-ups, working hard on the bar, muscles straining as he pulled himself up again, again, again. Trunks swatted one hand down with the crop and he continued one-handed, muscles straining, until Trunks instructed him to switch to the other hand.

Finally, he was released for breakfast, the sun now rising in the east, and Gohan ate quickly, the food designed to build up his energy and strength after such an intense workout. Trunks ate across from him, watching him eat with careful, watchful blue eyes, and Gohan just knew that he was planning whatever came next. And it probably wasn’t going to be good for him.

It wasn’t.

Trunks knew that Gohan derived a certain pleasure from meaningful work, work that had a purpose and had an end result that he could be proud of. So, as a specific form of torture, it seemed, Trunks gave him the most meaningless task he could find; moving sandbags from one end of the camp to the other, building walls out of them, only to have to deconstruct them and move them back again.

He labored away at this for hours, hustling from one end of the camp to the other, receiving a sharp swat across his hands or ass every time Trunks deemed he was moving too slowly. Steadily, Gohan began to wear down, the swats coming faster, more frequently, until finally the whistle blew and he stopped, leaning over with his hands on his knees to support himself.

“Tired, Private?” Trunks asked, and there was something decidedly scheming in his voice that Gohan definitely didn’t like.

“Yes sir,” Gohan answered, honestly.

“Looking for a break?”

“No sir,” Gohan answered, knowing that for the trap that it was.

Trunks smirked as Gohan straightened up, looking at him solidly. “Good. Because I have one more task for you. Follow me to my office.”

Office? Gohan trailed along behind Trunks, not realizing that he’d had an office in this place, but it made sense. Officer’s quarters and all that, after all. The office was rather plainly decorated but the chair behind the desk was plush, the two in front of it plain, wood, hard-backed. Gohan went to take a seat in one as Trunks took a seat behind the desk, but Trunks shook his head, indicating that he come around the desk. And when he did, he saw why; Trunks was exposing himself, pulling his member free from the confines of his uniform and giving it a few lazy strokes, looking at Gohan as he did it.

“On your knees, soldier.”

Gohan complied slowly, creaking muscles stiff as he settled onto his knees in front of Trunks, looking up at him with dark eyes. And then slowly, he opened his mouth, and settled between Trunks’s legs.

Trunks shifted forward, slipping his eager, waiting member into Gohan’s mouth, and moaned as wet, hot suction surrounded him, Gohan carefully suckling on his member, pleasuring Trunks gently. Slowly, Trunks’s hand moved, and gripped tight to Gohan’s hair, pulling him farther down towards the base of Trunks’s member, forcing him to take him in deeper. Gohan relaxed his throat, letting Trunks softly roll his hips into his mouth, groaning, and then starting to grunt as he set a faster pace, thrusting harder into Gohan’s mouth and throat. Gohan made noise around Trunks’s member, the vibrations in his throat making Trunks moan, grip his hair harder, rock faster.

Gohan held onto the arms of Trunks’s chair, nails digging in as he held on, held on, letting Trunks fuck his mouth with ferocity, force, until he spilled over with a groan, coming into Gohan’s mouth and throat. As Trunks pulled out, Gohan dutifully swallowed the come that he could, and licked the rest from Trunks member, cleaning it gently with his tongue. Then he pulled back, looking at Trunks’s flushed, satisfied face.

“Good job, soldier,” he purred, and gently stroked along Gohan’s cheek, fingertips catching a few misplaced drops of come, and putting them gently into Gohan’s mouth. Gohan sucked on Trunks’s fingers for a second before Trunks rescinded his hand, and steadily, Gohan got up from his knees as Trunks tucked himself back away.

“What next, sir?” Gohan asked, and Trunks’s smile was pleased as punch, smooth as poured cream.

“I think you’ve earned a rest, Private. Report back to your barracks,” Trunks answered, and Gohan nodded, sharp, with a “Yes sir,” before he headed out.

Thank god. As soon as he was out of the office, his shoulder sagged, and he relaxed, headed towards his barracks, though he knew that he was probably going to be awakened early in the morning or very late at night, depending on how Trunks was feeling about it.

For now, though, he oozed into bed, relaxing, and letting himself fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

The next morning came loud and harsh with a whistle and a swat, and Gohan jumped out of bed, managing to not fall onto the floor this time. A small victory. That disappeared the second he realized that Trunks was not alone today, and for a split second he wondered if Trunks was betraying his earlier promise. But no, it didn’t seem like it.

The man before him was tall, imposing, built strongly with the kind of musculature that made Gohan know instantly that he was a professional soldier. A professional drill sergeant, it seemed, from the way that Trunks was smirking at him, standing beside the newcomer. “This is Sergeant Williams,” he said, smirk smoldering just a bit around the edges. Like a pyromaniac who knew he was about to set something on fire. “He’ll be…helping me with your training for the next few days. You will treat him with the utmost respect, and refer to him by the same title you refer to me as. Is that clear?”

“Sir yes sir,” Gohan said, making sure his posture was perfectly at attention, and Sergeant Williams didn’t smile. Didn’t make any move at all but to circle him slowly, like a shark sniffing fresh blood in the water.

“Today, we’ll start with painting the barracks,” the Sergeant said in a surprisingly low, calm voice, and smiled chillingly at Gohan. “Think you can manage the task, soldier?”

“Yes sir,” Gohan answered immediately, and the Sergeant and Trunks exchanged a wicked look.

“Follow me, then,” Sergeant Williams said, tone silky, and led the way out of Gohan’s quarters.

The problem was, Gohan soon discovered, that they were never satisfied, either of them. He’d get one stroke wrong and have to do an entire wall over again, or they’d get halfway through with one color and change their mind. Eventually, Trunks drifted off to his office again, leaving Gohan working hard into the night with only a feeble lantern and Williams’s barked commands to guide him, his eyes hurting from the dim light and intense focus.

Eventually, though, Williams seemed satisfied enough, and Gohan expected to be dismissed, go to bed with his aching muscles and paint-stained hands. Instead, Trunks reappeared, and said so nonchalantly, “Ready for another hike, soldier?”

Quickly, it became clear what the plan was between the two of them; keep Gohan working and awake for as long as possible, with no breaks as they switched off shifts. Oh god. First it was the barracks, with Williams, then it was another hike with Trunks, then it was the obstacle course again with the Sergeant, then peeling potatoes under Trunks’s watchful eye, then—then—then—

They ended up keeping him awake for nearly three days straight. He went three sleepless days and two sleepless nights, until he knew that if he was asked to do anything more, he’d simply rebel, scream, kick, fight with whatever little energy he had left. And finally, Trunks gave him his dismissal, letting him go back to his barracks to sleep.

Gohan was pretty sure he slept for two days straight, but when he woke up, it was late at night, and he found Trunks sitting by the side of his bed, reading a book. Something that he quickly covered the title of when he saw Gohan was awake, and smiled sweetly at him. Too sweetly, like he had something else up his sleeve.

“Enjoyed your rest?” he asked, and Gohan nodded, slowly sitting up in his bed, then answered with a quick, “Yes sir,” that he’d forgotten in the moment.

“It’s alright Gohan, you can relax for a minute,” Trunks said, smiling a bit softer at Gohan, and Gohan let his tense shoulders relax, drooping forward over the bed. He smiled back at Trunks, who shifted his chair closer, running gentle fingers through Gohan’s slightly dusty, slightly greasy dark hair, letting him relax a moment.

“You need another shower,” Trunks murmured, and Gohan nodded, feeling too exhausted to get up, though.

“How long did I sleep?”

Trunks shrugged, pulling his hand back to touch to Gohan’s cheek lightly. “Only about a day. I expected longer, honestly, you seemed dead out.”

“You wore me out. You and Sergeant Williams,” Gohan said, leaning into the touch on his cheek and closing his eyes, enjoying the temporary break of gentle contact, the refreshing moment of tenderness between them. See, he always knew, at the end of the day, that Trunks cared about him more than anything. It all just depended differently on how they showed it to each other.

“In a good way,” Trunks said with a saccharine smile, and Gohan gave him a slight look, but then settled back into the gentle touches against his cheek, eyes closed again. “Besides, you’d get bored if we didn’t find ways to wear you out. Really test your strength and stamina. Old man.” It was affectionately said and so Gohan didn’t do much but grumble slightly, and Trunks smiled, setting his book down on the ground and moving so swiftly Gohan didn’t have a chance to react. Trunks straddled his hips, pressing his ass down against Gohan’s clothed member, which almost immediately started to show interest, twitching slightly in his pants as it began to feel some delightful friction.

“Trunks…” Gohan sighed softly as Trunks started up a rhythm, dipping up and down on Gohan, beginning to rub their growing arousal together, as well as giving him the invitation of his ass, which Gohan moved to clutch to, kneading gently with his hands.

“Want to fuck me, soldier?” Trunks asked in a low, breathy tone, slipping easily back into the dominant role, and Gohan nodded, clearing cobwebs out of his throat.

“Yes sir,” he answered, and Trunks smirked, leaning down, so close to kissing Gohan, but stopping just short.

“Then why don’t you?” he murmured, breath ghosting across Gohan’s lips before he kissed him, something full, deep, passionate in it. And Gohan got a little lost, in between the friction between them and the kiss that was taking his breath away, his hands still gently kneading at Trunks’s full, plush ass.

Slowly, Trunks slipped off of him, beginning to undress, and Gohan quickly pulled himself free of his pants, just enough that he’d have access but wouldn’t have to actually take anything off. And then Trunks climbed back on top of him, taking a bottle of lube with him, and Gohan reached out for it, but Trunks stopped him.

“Just sit back and enjoy the show,” Trunks murmured, and lubed up his own fingers, before slowly starting to insert them into himself. Gohan’s pupils blew wide as he watched Trunks prepare himself, Trunks throwing in noises that sounded genuine, but were no doubt for Gohan’s benefit, and soon enough, he was achingly hard, waiting impatiently for Trunks to finish.

Slowly, he did, removing slick fingers and looking at Gohan with blue eyes turned dark by lust, and let Gohan position his hips before he sank down onto him. Oh god. That tight, wet heat. The feeling of Trunks’s muscles clenching and fluttering around him. The sensation of friction as Trunks began to shift atop him, hands on Gohan’s chest to steady himself.

He moaned, something luxurious in the sound, as Gohan rocked his hips up to meet him, and they fell into a slow, easy rhythm, Gohan already feeling like he was going to come even with how little time he’d actually been inside of Trunks. He took one hand and began to quickly stroke Trunks, who gave a stuttered moan and a groan, beginning to move his hips faster, faster, faster, and—and then he came, spurts of white come landing on Gohan’s chest and stomach.

The sensation of Trunks finishing, tightening and tensing around him was enough for Gohan. He finished quickly, a few more short thrusts and then a soft groan as he spilled into Trunks, going limp from the exhaustion that came with needing more rest and exerting himself again after that three day ordeal.

Slowly, Trunks leaned down to gently kiss him, and smiled at him before getting off of him, starting to clean up and redress. “See you tomorrow, soldier,” he said, and picked up his book before leaving again, Gohan by himself once more. Dizzy, dazed, and a little destroyed by coming that hard. And trying to prepare himself for whatever came next.

***

More, basically, came next. Williams didn’t leave as Gohan had assumed he had; oh no, he was still there, but instead of taking turns with Gohan, working his fingers to the bone and his patience to a thin thread, he guided Trunks, giving him subtle instructions on what best to do to keep Gohan moving, straining, working.

At first, it was simple enough. A test of endurance more than anything, as Gohan stood at attention while Trunks circled him, Williams telling him little things to correct here and there, Gohan only able to respond with ‘yes sir’ and ‘no sir’ as Trunks taunted him, just a little bit. Sliding hands along his hips under the pretense of changing his position, hands trailing along his inner thighs as if directing his legs to stand a certain way, gentle brushes along the line of his shoulders, firm hands straightening them out. The only blessing to this situation was that it seemed that his pants were loose enough to hide the growing arousal Trunks’s touch was bringing out in him, though he didn’t have a single doubt that Trunks knew exactly what effect he had. And then a sharp whistle sounded, and Gohan jumped, surprised by the sound that left his ears ringing a little.

“Ready for the obstacle course again, soldier?” Trunks asked, smirking at him. “Your performance last time was a little disappointing. More than a little.”

Gohan mumbled something softly the second Trunks’s back was turned, but apparently, Trunks caught it, as he turned back to him with sharp eyes. “What was that, soldier?” he asked, tone demanding honesty, and Gohan had to swallow down the lump that had risen in his throat.

“Nothing, sir,” he answered, immediately, and Trunks stepped in front of him again, Williams coming to stand by his side.

“Your commanding officer asked you a question,” Williams said, voice as smooth as a snake slithering through tall grass. “I suggest you answer honestly, Private.”

Gohan looked between the two of them, realizing he was out matched, outnumbered, and swallowed again before answering, “I said, if it was so disappointing, why don’t you try it yourself? Sir.”

And oh, he hadn’t been expecting Trunks to smile at that, but he did, and that look spelled nothing but trouble. Trunks took one step back, another, and then conferred with Williams for a moment before Williams headed off, and Trunks smiled sweetly at Gohan.

“Bad choice of words, soldier,” he said when they could see Williams coming back, though his eyes hadn’t left Gohan. “I guess we’ll just have to wash that mouth out with soap.”

Gohan startled a bit at that, considering making a break for it when he saw the bar of soap in Williams’s hand. But he knew that taking off would only make things worse for him, so quietly, he submitted to the humiliating punishment, gagging around the soap and water when they shoved it into his mouth by the nearest well spigot, and then spit everything out, his mouth tasting bitter and flowery, like he’d just eaten a handful of bitter tasting petals.

When they were done—and oh, it took a few washes before they called it good enough—he washed his mouth out with the freezing well water, spitting repeatedly onto the ground, the cold water soaking part of his shirt, a few stubborn suds clinging to it as well.

And then they headed to the obstacle course.

Up, down, over, around. He was timed again, of course, and no matter how fast he got it done, it seemed that it wasn’t fast enough to satisfy either of them. The only break he got between runs was when they conferred about his performance, discussing whether it was worthy or not of being released from the hell that was this particular course. Come on. There was at least a mile of barbed wire that he had to crawl underneath, and he could barely make it in time, and even when he did, he was so worn out that he practically crawled through the rest of the course, muscles on fire.

It was another three days of this, and by the end of the week, Gohan had the obstacle course down in three minutes flat, could do a hundred straight pushups with Trunks sitting atop him, one-handed or two-handed, it didn’t matter, and Williams was finally beginning to show signs of appreciation for Gohan’s work. Finally showing some pride in his training.

So he gathered his things, ready to head out as Gohan stood at attention while he talked with Trunks off to the side, Williams seeming more relaxed now that he was out of his role.

“Isn’t that right, Private?”

“I’m sorry, sir?” Gohan asked, brow furrowing as his attention was suddenly drawn to their conversation.

Trunks smirked. “You wanted to thank Sergeant Williams for all his hard work and excellent training, didn’t you?” His smile couldn’t be said to be anything but sweet, inviting, but Gohan was scrambling for words, the sudden spotlight on him making him flustered.

“Um, yes sir. I wanted to thank you for being such a…valuable teacher for me, and…taking the time to show me how to work properly, sir,” he said, and Williams smiled, something warm in it.

“I’m glad to hear it, soldier. You show quite the potential. I hope you enjoy the rest of your training.” And with a tip of his army cap, he headed off, leaving Trunks and Gohan alone, Gohan having a few choice words for Trunks that he couldn’t say at the moment.

Besides, his whole body relaxed as he heard Trunks say, “Go on. Go rest, soldier.”

And Gohan nodded, headed immediately off to the barracks, stiff, sore, aching.

***

The next day, things went straight back to difficult, though it did seem that Trunks was going a bit easy on him. The morning started out with the hike, though Gohan’s pack felt suspiciously light when he made it up the hills and rocks, climbing and moving with a surprising amount of ease considering how much he’d been working the past few days. Still. His body had needed to rest, and finally been allowed that, so he supposed that it did make some sense that he’d be better after resting up.

Still, Trunks seemed to pull fewer rocks from the bag to get to their meal, and Gohan sat, worn out but happy, by his side as they watched the sun come up through rolling waves of fog and mist that settled in and among and just over the trees. It was quite the romantic spot, if Gohan actually thought about it, and he figured that this was Trunks’s subtle message to him; I love you, I love you, I love. Share this with me.

But, of course, the spell only lasted so long. Soon enough, he had to head back down the mountain, Trunks swatting him occasionally when it wasn’t dangerous to do so, but stung all the same. By the time that they reached the bottom again, Gohan was sore and a bit irritated, but trying to quash it back down, focus on the tasks ahead of him as he and Trunks ate a proper meal in the mess hall, Gohan cleaning up after them again.

And when he exited the mess hall, he found Trunks waiting for him with a smile and a shovel, and he realized that, once again, he’d been tricked into a false sense of security. Lulled into it by Trunks’s gentle treatment of him, and then by the easy hike. Because today’s task was not going to be easy, by any stretch of the imagination.

“We need trenches, soldier. A solid barricade around the entire camp. Three feet wide. Five feet deep,” Trunks said, and tilted his head, smile wicked as he looked at Gohan. “Ready to get to work, or did you have something to say?”

Gohan had quite a few things to say, but knew that none of them would be very productive or get him very far, so he said, “No sir. Nothing to say, sir.” And Trunks smiled broadly, and handed him the shovel.

Ditches. Literal digging ditches. Gohan had never felt so demeaned in his life, except perhaps when Trunks sold him off to that other farmer during their last vacation. Surely that had been worse than this, but at the same time, he wasn’t feeling great about this either.

He worked hard, though, muscles coated in a slight sheen of sweat as he worked under the hot sun, digging a ditch that was exactly three feet wide and five feet deep, which he knew because Trunks had a measuring tape that he would not hesitate to whip out every time Gohan thought that he was close to getting done with it. And then he’d have to adjust by a few inches, a few more, until Trunks was satisfied and let him move on to the next section.

Of course, with Gohan’s strength, the work itself wasn’t the problem. It was just that it was so long. There was so much to dig, so much to move, so much earth that he had to cart out in wheelbarrows, one at a time, dump it at the back of the camp, bring back a pile of sandbags, lay them out, start again in his digging. It was an endless cycle, repeating, repeating, repeating mindlessly over and over again until Gohan was barely paying attention to what he was doing, only sharp hits from Trunks’s crop jolting him back into reality again.

He worked hard into the night, Trunks bringing out lanterns for him to work by, and then into the morning, the sky a muddled gray as the sun started to rise on their last day in the camp. And finally, Gohan finished, setting his shovel down the second that Trunks finished measuring his ditch.

“Good job, soldier,” Trunks said, something smug in his tone as Gohan dropped to a seat on the ground, unable to help himself. Unable to stand at attention for Trunks’s inspecting gaze any longer. “Aww…tired? Well, since you’ve already found yourself in such a good position for it, why don’t we do a little workout before the sun officially rises.”

Gohan looked up at him, both of them knowing full well that the second the sun rose, this whole thing was over. And Trunks would no longer be able to rule him as Gohan had allowed himself to be ruled. “What did you have in mind, sir?” he asked, tentatively, and Trunks’s smile was shark sly and knife sharp.

“Pushups,” he said. “Fifty of them. And between every one, I want you to kiss my boots. Understood?”

Gohan swallowed down words along with his pride, nodding and slipping out a, “Yes sir.”

Trunks smirked. “Then get to it, soldier.”

Slowly, Gohan got into position, and began. Down, kiss, up. Down, kiss, up. Down, kiss, up. He could taste a bit of shoe polish on his lips, along with the dust and dirt from the trenches he’d been digging, but it could have been worse. With Trunks, there was always a worse. Down, kiss, up. Down, kiss, up…

He continued like this past fifty, past one hundred, and into a number he lost track of until finally, the sun began to peek over the horizon, lighting up the camp in rays of gold and fiery orange. And Gohan dropped to the ground, exhausted and unwilling to move for the next few hours or so. He’d sleep on the ground if he had to.

Until he heard Trunks’s laugh and the words, “Come on, love, let’s get you to bed,” and saw a hand extended out to him. And he immediately pulled Trunks down by it, rolling with him in the dirt until they were both equally dusty.

“Okay, okay!” Trunks protested, and Gohan smiled, kissing at his lover’s collarbone as Trunks looked at him, Gohan’s arms wrapped around him.

“Had enough?” Gohan asked, something slightly playful in his tone, a sudden surge of energy having hit him. “Or do you have time for something else?”

Trunks raised his eyebrows at him, giving him a speculative look. “What are you thinking?”

Gohan smiled, starting to get up with a creaking of aching muscles, and offered his hand to Trunks. “Follow me,” he said, and began to lead the way once Trunks was on his feet.

Over hills and rocks, a pack on Gohan’s back that he’d picked up from the barracks, prepared by himself the last time he’d had a moment alone. Which was…a day ago now? That was fine. The food would keep. Slowly, he led Trunks back up the hiking trail, all the way to the peak, and smiled at him as he pulled a blanket from the pack, laying it out on the still dew-soaked grass.

“Up for a picnic?” Gohan asked, kneeling on the blanket and starting to pull out food, and Trunks smiled softly at him, kneeling next to him.

“With you? Anytime,” he answered, and they easily fell back into that sense of love and belonging that they carried so effortlessly in their relationship with each other. Laughter, talking, a massage for Gohan, and soon enough the two of them were back on equal footing again, and Gohan could relax and watch the sun fully rise with the love of his life. Who seemed just as eager to watch it with him.