Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

Play


A sharp gasp hissed through clenched teeth, the fingers that clasped so futilely at the bowed shoulder blades of his panting counterpart curling into fervent fists.
"Dende…Trunks…" Ebony glittered with the instinctive prickle of unwarranted tears as the older boy paused, chest heaving with exertion and his forced control. Hot breath breezed over the moist flesh of his throat like a torrid gale, parted lips pursing in apology, planting flower petal kisses along the arched curve of his throat.

"G…omen na, chibi…" Goten willed his cramped fingers to unfurl, limp hand razing a path through the other's sweaty silken strands.

"It's…ok, Trunks-kun…" Salt seasoned the dry palette of his lips as they pressed against the pale Ouji's damp brow. "Just…slower…" An almost imperceptible nod sent a volleying shiver down the prone demi-Saiyan's spine, the tips of trailing lavender licking lightly at his shoulder.

"Hai…" Growling softly with his promise, Trunks slid slowly into his smaller companion, taking care to temper the impulsive thrust of his narrow hips into that inviting heat. Crystal blue glazed with a quiet moan as his hard shaft sheathed itself in the tight warmth of his younger half. Dende-sama…it really was the boy's first time. Somehow he'd thought the kid was playing coy when he'd admitted to never having had sex…

Rewind

"So…have you?" The persistent prince nudged his cherry red comrade with a smirking arch of one elegant brush stroked brow.

"Trunks…ano…" A flash of pearly white preceded his knowing chuckle, cheeks dimpling with the indent of his smile.

"Aw, c'mon…never?" That insurmountable onyx lowered further, gracing Goten's scarlet expression with a darker comparative. One cotton shrouded shoulder shrugged his response, head tilting just so, granting the apprehensive Ouji a lovely view of his nervous cohort's exceptionally artistic profile.

If things had been normal, Trunks would have let it go at that.

If things had been normal, Trunks wouldn't be having hentai thoughts about his best friend…The Ouji jerked a mental shrug.

So things weren't normal. Eh. Normal was overrated anyway.

"You can tell me, Go-chan…" Sliding his hand over the worn back of the Son's t-shit, Trunks repressed the irrational desire to slip his questing hand beneath, to strip the boy down completely and satisfy this, this…deep seated need to take his chibi and twist that lithe body into various delightful positions…

Dammit. The pastel prince shifted with an irritating splash of dusted crimson. His dick was hard just thinking about the kid. It was a good thing the boy didn't suspect, or all the political bullshiting in the world wasn't going to get Trunks out of this predicament…

"Iie." Already throbbing, his heart vaulted in his chest, fingers scratching lightly down the arc of Goten's graceful spine.

"Nani?" Was the Son denying his silent advances so quickly? Trunks swallowed the disappointment that coalesced at the back of his throat. Dende, dammit---

"I've…never…" So fucking cute, Go-chan…the intertwining pull of interlaced fingers resting between thighs he was dying to taste…nip…

Devour.

"Really…" Predatory, cunning, and manically cruel, the Ouji's sapphire eyes gazed upward through amethyst tendrils of trademark treason.

Well that was certainly something he could change.

"Hey, why don't you come up to the dorms for the weekend?"


Play

"Hai! Hai! There, Trunks! Right there!" Goten nearly screamed as the growling purr in his ear strengthened, the angle of his Ouji's hips enforced with a swift motion of mutual satisfaction. Arching his back like a rainbow, the Son cried out with renewed fervor, hands falling to tear at the massacre of sheets beneath. Parting his thighs wider, the boy lifted his leg, foot cradled in the corded dip of the lighter demi-Saiyan's collar. Blissful raven was shielded with a mute moan of undeniable encouragement, large hands caressing down the length of his quivering body with full, confident strokes. It was obvious the prince was more experienced than his receptive counterpart.

"Go…ten…" Flawless white gnashed the name to nothing more than a guttural groan of irrefutable pleasure, the sculpted thighs that supported the back of Goten's ass trembling as a violent shiver whipped through the taller figure. Another hard, seeking plunge of Trunks' unrelenting cock filled his body with an uncommon warmth, the repetition of his name on the whimpering lips of his tense complement wringing the strain in his groin to an agonizing point. Dende, he was so fucking close…

"Trunks…" Featherlight fingertips worshipped that solid brow creased in completion, gentle obsidian ravenously consuming the lip bitten grimace that so resembled pain…Beautiful.

Utterly and absolutely.

The strong, unconquerable son of Vegeta collapsed. Readjusting with the action, Goten pulled his leg back to rest against the bed, pale purple blanketing the valley of his chest with his angelic lover's breathless fall. Like satin in his fingers, the demi-Saiyan ran comforting hands through damp violet, nails itching a path of familiarity along the slope of Trunks' muscled back.

"Breathe, my love…" Sporadic in its delivery, heat invaded his stomach, the hitching, childlike catch of gasping inhalation invoking a protective surge of Saiyan possession. The Son wound soothing limbs around his recovering monarch, a quiet purr summoned to calm his sated paramour.

His own climax could wait. It was worth so much more to see his Trunks content…

After all…he'd waited this long…

Pause

"So…this is your room." Goten's duffel hit the cluttered floor with a crinkling crunch of canvas.

"Yeah…" The prince lifted a shirt off the chair, tossing it halfheartedly toward the mound of unwashed clothes in the corner. Cocking an ebony brow, the Son surveyed his comrade's quarters, hands slipping into the denim depths of his pockets.

"Well…" A slow grin brightened his ambiguous exterior, laughing eyes absorbing the quagmire of dirty laundry and unopened textbooks. "It's nice to know you haven't changed."

It was sudden. It was expected. It was Trunks.

The smirking Ouji made a swift grab for the chibi, cuffing his defiant companion as both fell backward into a mess of old shirts and towels.

Shirts and towels that reeked of Trunks…

Hentai! Yamero!

"Heh, you know you missed me, chibi…" Like thunder and lightning, Trunks-kun…

Snapping at the hand that attempted a sneak attack on his midsection, the obsidian demi-Saiyan countered with a dive under the arms, gaining the upper hand as his compatriot squealed, squirming backward into the mound of cotton as strong fingers wrapped around his wrists.

The boy stilled, sunset red flashing across his stricken visage. He couldn't stop staring at those caramel candy coloured hands…the strength in those fingers made his pulse quicken, and it seemed as though all the blood required to think had been strategically sent to another part of his anatomy…

"Go-chan?" Startled, the stimulated Son pulled back, away from those hands, away from the omnipresent scent of Trunks that had slapped his dick into wakefulness. Oh, Dende, he didn't need this…it had been months since he's seen Trunks. He didn't need this to complicate it all…like he could even begin to explain his lifelong fascination with the object of his infatuation…

"Gomen, Trunks-kun…" A shock of onyx was blown aside as his head turned away from inquisitive blue. Study anything, look anywhere, just not at him! "So…" The word was more whistled as his breath exhaled in a sigh, eyes roaming over the single bed, the closet that seemed to ooze clothes like an open sore, a desk more suited to the task of upholding the unsightly burden than any kind of workstation…then back to the disturbingly disorganized floor.

"Where do I sleep?"


Stop

"That was…fucking incredible," the pink frosted ouji muttered into the depths of his companion's hitched and heaving chest, fingers brushing and soothing mindlessly along the same hips his hands had worshipped only seconds ago. The fingers in his hair granted him the grace of comfort, something almost alien to him after such escapades, the idea of warmth and camaraderie taking the place of a grunt and a shower enough to make him thank his father's nameless gods.

"Trunks…" Goten's waist twisted with his unwanted whine, a feeling foreign in its delivery making his actions almost desperate, and his back arched as the sticky body above him rose like a Grecian god to either bless him with his touch or condemn him with his absence.

"Saaaa, chibi," whispered words fell like divinity to scatter across his lips and he moaned liberally, contrary to his surroundings. "I know, Go-chan…" Eyes the colour of crystallized condensation, clear and calming, rose like the sun over his counterpart's pleading obsidian.

Without withdrawing, without denying his youthful lover the presence of his passion, Trunks propped his impressive mass on one hand, the other trailing and teasing through the dips and curves he adored. Downward, seeking, stalling until his lover was thrashing, tearing, crying out his name in ways he had only dreamed of hearing, the older demi-Saiyan allowed his slender fingers the claim of their passage.

Goten screamed.

Play

"You're still a slob, Trunks-kun," the darker teen artfully dodged another volley of popcorn, rolling over on his back and into the wall, the bed being substantially too small to hold the collective distribution of their lazy forms. His eyes traversed the travesty of crumb-crunchy Tupperware stacked precariously in the corner that seemed to act as a stabilizing agent for the dish soap next to the microwave.

"And you're still in high school," the lighter craftily countered, trying again to hit his six foot target with adequate success.

"No fair." Goten slid his bowed arm beneath to support his weight, licking up the pieces closest to his hand and chewing contentedly, kicking at his companion for his lack of respect. "You're the one who invited me."

"Hai," the response was muttered with more seduction than designed, the idea of his art appealing to him beyond reason. The Son glanced upward at the tone, sharing a coveted look that caused them both to blush bemusedly.

"It's good to see you again…" a soft shrug as sable turned, "you know, since we haven't really spent all that much time together lately…"

"I know," the taller sighed, sitting up straighter against the wall and flicking the television off, watching the credits blink black on a movie the two of them hadn't really been watching.

Having been slightly more occupied with sneaking secretive sidelines at each other.

"Well…" Goten's pink-tipped tongue snatched up another kernel, closer now to the other occupant's knee. "I guess we should make the most of the time we have…" he swallowed meaningfully, the fire in his cheeks betraying the apparent innocence of his façade. "…ne?"

Comprehending cobalt narrowed definitively, and the older half-breed licked his lips. Goten purred quietly at the action, rubbing his face kitten-like against the exposed flesh of Trunks' leg, bare through the white tattered fabric of his pants. Hand trembling inexorably in anticipation, those fingers he longed to explore pushed aside the unruliness of his ebon unmanageability to meet his gaze evocatively. His vocal pleasure deepened at the promise in that look and he teased his tongue tauntingly through the torn material.

"I don't think you need to worry about sleeping on the floor, chibi…"


Eject

Silence blinked like a power surge, lasting only the length of time it took for the tape to spit forth from the viewer. The screen flashed white, igniting his ears with the fuzz and off-white glow of nonsensical snow.

The man blinked, leaning forward to retrieve the item, inspecting again the scrawled black lettering that littered the spine.

'Play Me', obviously meant for someone that was not him, he could only assume that this had been sent from one lover to the other as some kind of gag.

It was the last time he'd indulge that kind of curiosity.

Flipping the tape over in his hands, he eyed it suspiciously, as though it would grow teeth any moment and bite his hand, leaving a mark that would tell the world everything he'd witnessed. Swallowing indecisively, he reached for the case, slipping it within and holding it loosely in his grip.

He still couldn't believe---

"Oi!" The front door slammed and the figure jumped, video falling from his lap to land loudly on the floor by his feet as he scrambled to switch off the static. His heart pounded in a deafening rhythm and it was all he could do to amass composure as his slightly smaller counterpart strode into the room.

"Whatcha up to?" Goten was obviously preoccupied as he gathered together his scattered belongings, throwing them carelessly into a duffel, regardless of their potential use. Clothes spilled haphazardly from the largest pocket, one sock hell bent on release gaining its freedom in favour of a battered game cartridge.

"Hello?? Earth to O…" the voice trailed off as the younger man bent to call back the liberated foot ware, hand poised over the ambiguous black slip by his silent partner's feet. A quick glance upward, fearful onyx asked a question neither of them would ever have the nerve to actually word.

"Nani? Gomen!" the older Son chuckled nervously, stepping backward. Goten took advantage of his opening to stuff both items deep into his bag. "I just came in here to see if you had any senzu!" he poked a finger through a hole in his shirt. "I got it pretty bad sparring today with Ve--"

"Sure!" his younger duplicate smiled, relieved beyond measure. Hiking his bag over one shoulder, he turned his back and rummaged through the top drawer of his dresser until he found what he was looking for. Tossing the small tin to his taller, albeit quieter compatriot, Son Goten's grin broadened. "Take whatcha need, ne? Tell Okaasan not to worry about me for dinner. I'll be at Trunks-kun's. Ja!"

And then he was gone.

Son Goku blinked and scratched his head. Falling heavily back into the chair, he blew the dark shock of his hair upward out of his eyes.

He hadn't known you could do that.

His brow furrowed. His head tilted. He thought about it long and hard.

It looked kinda like sparring.

His eyes narrowed and he gazed down to his burned and blackened gi.

It was time for a rematch.