Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

Goku had no idea what he would find when he closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his forehead at Videl’s request to find her husband…his son. Searching out Gohan’s ki took a few seconds as suppressed flashes of it came sporadically and from a great distance. A couple of those brief moments were required before Goku was able to focus on it and then he teleported to a location nearby.

The distance from the Lookout was confirmed as bright blue noon skies were exchanged for ones darkening above a small grove of large trees in a cozy-sized, unnamed valley. Time was indeterminate to Goku with gray, heavy clouds obscuring any celestial clues as to whether it was gloomy because of early morning, late evening or the storm brewing; indicated by the environmental energy he could feel on the edge of being released and see in the wicked cloud formations hovering thousands of meters above the clusters of green leaves, dun colored grasses and blue-tinted hills that graduated into mountains.

Ending his instant transmission a bit away from his son had been a wise precaution. Gohan’s aggravated aura suggested surprise would have ended with immediate and volatile repercussions had he come nearer without warning. “Gohan?” Goku used the question as a way to announce his presence, despite the fact his son’s demeanor indicated he had already been detected.

When he became aware of the presence of another Gohan had let his fists drop from the next bout of strikes he had been about to assail upon the man-height trunk of the hapless, fallen tree. He halfway noted the broken skin and blood on his knuckles – the result of holding his ki to dangerously low human-like levels – wishing the pain were enough to swallow his turmoil; but a piece of lumber, no matter its size, would never be able to provide enough distraction – nothing would be. His shoulders dropped and he sagged a bit over his shoulder-width stance, wondering why, of all the people in the world, the cause of his desperation would be the one to materialize. “Father,” the fact his voice stayed flat when all he wanted to do was scream in provocation or weep in anger gave him a tiny sense of accomplishment.

The neutral acknowledgement of his presence caused Goku to shift uncomfortably before he stepped further into the grove of tall trees. Their thick canopy of leaves – even with the space caused by their fallen brethren – was enough to create a noticeable shadow despite a sunless sky. The saiyan hadn’t been expecting an exuberant hello from his son – not after all the years he had stayed away under the pretense of training – but certainly something more…kindly? Tall grasses parted, and then closed behind him as he waded ahead. The tickle of seed heads along his forearms was ignored as he focused on Gohan. “Videl and Pan are worried,” he broached the situation once he was within a more comfortable talking distance. The quiet snort of distain from the person he was addressing was unexpected as was the skip in his heartbeat following the sound. Goku covered his discomfiture with more words. “So is your mother.”

“And you?” Gohan asked quietly over his shoulder. He was fond of his wife, daughter and mother…but none were the cause of the current situation; and none of them could fix it either – if anyone could.

“Of course,” Goku’s overture was thick with concern. That Gohan felt the need to ask dismayed him. Rain could be heard before felt in the pause after his statement. Goku looked up as a breeze caused the smell of the air to change dramatically and then drops of water made it through the foliage-ceiling to liquidly introduce themselves with his skin. When he looked back down his son was facing him. “We should go back, Gohan. This is going to get worse,” the father predicted the weather’s disposition as he held his hand out. He assured himself that touching Gohan for the instant necessary to get them back to the Lookout should be harmless.

Gohan ignored his father’s reach as water bled into his clothing – washed the blood from his broken skin. “You didn’t come here because of your own concerns, though,” he contested bitterly.

The statement was so far from unspeakable reality Goku swallowed in blameworthy reaction, his hand dropping back to his side as he shook his head. “You’re an adult, Gohan. Unless you ask, I will let you deal with your problems with no interference from me,” he stated quietly – regretting he had to find reasons he couldn’t be there at a drop of a hat to console his son when Gohan was in turmoil, but he had his own troubles and they wouldn’t allow him to console in a fatherly manner.

“Then go back, Dad,” Gohan dismissed Goku, turning away from his father as wind became an additional factor to the elements. It hurt to turn away, but Gohan knew it was better – better than what would result if he couldn’t distance himself quickly.

The wind grew momentarily frenzied, but Goku ignored the grasses whipping at his clothed legs and shuddered as the storm blew rain against the bare skin at the back of his neck. Leaves rattled and grasses hissed, warnings gone unheeded. He moved forward not ready to give up and go back empty handed. “Is this because of me?” he asked, feeling terrible at the smoky hope that stirred at the possibility Gohan may have missed him.

Gohan stilled, eyes closing as his fingers clenched into fists, causing barely-closed wounds to break open once again. “Go back, Father,” the neutral quality he’d been able to respond with so far failing, confrontation edging his reply. “You already made it clear you don’t want to be here…”

The manner of how his words were misconstrued caused Goku to frown. That wasn’t what he had meant. “Gohan?” Goku swore he only intended to express parental concern when speaking his son’s name.

The way Gohan turned at the timbre of his voice made him realize some of the longing he constantly fought had snuck its way through. Goku reacted by backing up one sodden step, sorry for not having gone with his gut instinct and sending someone else to retrieve Gohan. It had been a mistake to think he could do this without revealing some of what he felt. It was too much to be masked for long in Gohan’s company.

“You do care, don’t you, Dad.” Gohan’s head tilted to the left as he marveled quietly at this surprising discovery, before composing his demeanor and stepping forward, water filling his vacated footprints as his father looked away. Ground seepage conceded to water falling at velocity, causing splashes and then tiny, converging ripples in the watery reservoirs left in Gohan’s wake.

“Yes,” Goku answered honestly, but not fully; he didn’t make eye contact as he replied. Gohan would never accept how much nor the manner in which he actually cared. Goku reached to rub his forearm, convincing himself it was the wind making him shiver.

“Dad?” Goku looked up, the nearness of his son’s address demanding this response and no other. The wind had masked his son’s movement well. He blinked water away from his lashes, not certain if it was liquid interference or if Gohan was really that close. The material at the shoulders of Gohan’s white dress shirt were plastered to his skin, becoming transparent, except at the seams, revealing a bit too much for Goku’s already dubious composure.

Face to face…touching distance…so close, as Gohan had dreamed of too often. The situation was less than perfect, but it was real, which made it better. Did he dare, Gohan wondered. He bit his lower lip before concluding it was either now or regret forever – and doom who knew how many trees and boulders as he attempted to fend off his desire or finally go insane. He reached for his father’s outstretched hand. A step closer and he was able to gently stop Goku’s other hand from going to his forehead for instant transmission. His father froze with uncertainty clear on his features. Gohan smiled as he released Goku’s wrist before he reached up, disbelief making him doubtful this was real. The hair that curved over his father’s face was wet to the touch, sticking slightly against Gohan’s trembling fingers before he smoothed them away.

The ghost of a smile across Gohan’s lips barely registered with Goku as his son leaned forward – closer – reaching up and moving some of his bangs away from his eyes. Leaves wrestled wetly above them while the sound of rain droned as it spattered against grass, destined to saturate the earth at their feet. Watching Gohan moving closer, he realized – oddly – they were virtually the same height. Although the result of Gohan kinetic energy had only one conclusion, Goku found the gentle touch of his son’s lips against his surreal. Goku’s eyes closed as his full awareness focused on the tingling in his lips from that briefest of touches. The wind blew against Goku’s back as his tongue flicked out, as if to test the sensation were real, only to come in contact with Gohan’s lips – his son having not moved away.

Taking tactical advantage of his father’s unintentional invitation, Gohan pressed forward, encouraging the kiss to become something more than between kindred. Secrets he would have never said being expressed by mouth in a wholly different manner.

Opening his mouth to protest – at least that’s what Goku assured himself – the redeemable action was silenced as Gohan’s tongue stole its way in: an unexpected intruder who meant no harm and became enjoyable company as talents were proven.

It was the wind moaning; Goku knew for certain he wasn’t the one making the craven noise. He was just trying to get a breath in past the water running down his face, not vying to overcome those soft lips savoring his. He wondered briefly when and where Gohan had learned to kiss like this, because his son was good at it.

The thought was followed by reality sucker punching him in the gut. Goku pulled back as mixing emotions settled uneasily in the pit of his stomach. The strength he found to break away was momentary, leaving him to tremble with his forehead against Gohan’s shoulder. His hands clutched desperately at Gohan’s sopping shirtsleeves as he tried to catch his breath. After moments filled with Gohan’s scent, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and the wind whispering nonsense, Goku tilted his head just enough to press his lips to his son’s ear. “Please, Gohan, tell me I am dreaming,” he begged desperately. He hadn’t just failed them all so utterly, had he? Dreaming would do no harm if he continued with this new, wet, messy fantasy….

Trying to convey reassurance, Gohan leaned into Goku as he slipped his hands to his father’s waist, gripping at wet clothing and pulling him closer and rocking them slightly. He twisted his head and his short, wet hair brushed Goku’s cheek before he pressed his mouth to his father’s neck and answered, “I hope not. It’s taken me six years to gain the courage to do that.” There had been so many times, if he’d dared, that he could have flown to his father’s location and at least confessed, if not acted on, his desires as he just had.

Gohan’s words made Goku become faint and he stumbled back as his knees grew weak. Only Gohan’s hands on his hips kept him from dropping into the muddy grass, even as they prevented him from moving away. “Don’t go.” Gohan immediately regretted how he sounded; like an eleven year old about to lose his father. He tried again, “Don’t go,” managing this time turning it into a request of one adult to another. “Is this why you left?” he couldn’t help but ask. He’d always thought the excuse to train the human had been frail.

Goku nodded numbly to which Gohan responded with a kind smile; something Goku had not seen in over seven years. Goku shivered as water trickled down his back, gasping as Gohan pulled him forward, lips almost meeting again. “Then I am glad we can clear up the misunderstanding.”

Lightning briefly flashed – too far away to hear the echo of thunder. Goku shook his head, but didn’t back away. “Gohan – we can’t,” his son’s gaze did not back down from his – as though Gohan could see the desire that belied his words. “We both know where this leads…” he tried again, thinking of the suffering he was already going to go through. Not even the wind on his wet skin and clothing was taming his ‘problem’ this time. The hunger he had kept buried so well was rising at an alarming, overwhelming rate. Too much more of this unlikely intimacy and – and – and Goku didn’t want to think about the repercussions.

Gohan’s tongue removed rainwater from his lips as he nodded. “Yes, I do know where this leads and I very much want to go there.” He emphasized the honesty of his statement by wedging one of his legs between his father’s, settling hips and pressing pelvises with a finesse and quickness only one of their kind could accomplish before softly leaning his cheek against Goku’s as he next spoke. “I am sick of beating myself bloody over this.” He pulled his face away from Goku’s as he slipped a hand down to pull his father closer – making sure his point was proven by hard facts. He quickly captured his father’s lips again once he saw recognition in Goku’s gaze. This time Gohan wasn’t timid when communicating pent up desires – obsession – feeding off the feeling of Goku responding.

The wind groaned in the branches above them as Goku caved to his longings and then he squeezed his son’s arms possessively beneath his hands. “Yes,” was the word he hissed quietly as they both took a much-needed breath, before taking the lead.

The smirk Gohan felt couldn’t be helped as his father wrestled control away from him. He was more than happy to let it go, extremely surprised by the talent he would have never guess Goku to possess. “Mmmm, fuck,” he exclaimed quietly during another mutual break.

Goku wasn’t keen about his son having such a foul mouth on him. Part of him wanted to reprove Gohan for the cursing – the other pointed out it was very much an attribute at this time. He watched as he slid his thumb across his son’s kiss-swollen, rain and saliva-slicked lips before concluding what Gohan did with his mouth was purely up to Gohan and there was nothing, as a father, he could do about it anymore. There was one thing, but not as a father. Goku removed his thumb and pressed their lips back together.

The wooing of wind and the muttering patter of rain – in the puddles surrounding them – accompanied swallowed breaths and ravenous moans as their kissing continued. Mother Nature’s storm became overshadowed by their internal tempest. They were both shaking now as realization settled that they’d been wanting and running from the same thing for a very long time. Goku was thankful Gohan had ended their unspoken impasse. There may not have been a better way to broach the subject than that first, subtle and fantastic kiss, and he was more than willing to follow where this new, bold path led.

The trail seemed to lead down a steep incline if the reckless pace in which they were picking up speed were any indication. As their mouths grew well acquainted with the other, hands started roaming; slipping over clothed chests, drawing across abs, wrapping around backs. A brief change in their momentum brought buoyant serenity as Goku’s hands came to rest at his son’s collar as Gohan’s gripped Goku’s shoulders from behind, and then the frantic pace returned with stunning intensity.

During another significant slowing in pace, Goku lifted a hand to Gohan’s cheek, interrupting their kiss before gently turning his son’s head to the side. His lips were quickly reoccupied as he mouthed along Gohan’s neck, licking and sucking at skin and rainwater. Gohan groaned and shifted his head, exposing more of his skin, and Goku greedily claimed what was offered. The younger gasped as his flesh was nipped and the older stopped mistaking the outburst as a protest.

The sound served to remind Goku this moment was very real; not one of the many fantasies he had harbored for the last eight years. This Gohan could come to harm, may not enjoy something he had perversely contrived in his mind. Might not like being bitten to the point of bruising – or more. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled contritely against his son’s neck.

Gohan brought his hands between the two of them before reaching to cup Goku’s face, drawing his father’s eyes up to meet his gaze, then shook his head. “It’s okay. You just surprised me,” his smile lit his eyes, “I liked it,” he earnestly tried to convey. He hadn’t ever been with someone who could cause him physical pain. When it seemed as though his father wasn’t going to be so easily convinced, he tried a copycat tactic. He shifted his hand down to Goku’s chin, intending to steer his father’s head. “May I?” Gohan asked.

Despite the moisture in the air Goku’s mouth became dry. He nodded before letting Gohan guide his head to the side and closed his eyes as balmy lips and warmer tongue smoothed along the skin of his exposed neck: focusing solely on offspring’s attentions he didn’t notice the quasi-purr he used to express his delight. Rain continued to fall as Goku’s breaths came quicker and his hands roamed blindly over Gohan’s wetly dressed torso. One hand finally came to rest at the back of his son’s head urging stronger actions, the other playing at the small of Gohan’s back, fingers sneaking under his son’s shirt and tracing lightly – daringly – at the waistline of Gohan’s slacks.

Each newly accepted touch encouraged Goku’s passions to grow freer. Physical desires aside, the unhealthy obsession he’d festered for close to a decade was finally being accepted – and more – reciprocated. He left himself susceptible to the ever changing present; he would let Gohan do anything just so long as he didn’t stop. Especially now that his son’s mouth was wandering, hands and nose nudging material out of the pathway they were blazing along his skin. He tensed as Gohan’s hands slid lower and then felt jolted when his shirt was tugged up from under the sash that held it closed.

After he slid one drenched shirt from his father’s shoulders and down his arms, Gohan’s dexterous fingers worked the other up over Goku’s head and off letting it fall to the muddied ground; exposing more of Goku’s skin to first hand experience of the elements and bare to his touch. The feel of smooth skin rising in goose bumps as he mouthed his way across his father’s flesh was enticing, working only fast enough to continue gaining those delicious reactions.

Realizations struck Goku at odd times and he shuddered when the first articles of clothing removed between them triggered another. In some ways this was happening too slow – in others too fast. Goku pulled Gohan to him, surrounding his son’s shoulders with his arms and tucking Gohan’s head under is chin. “I-I need a moment,” he whispered.

Wrapping his arms around Goku’s bared waist, Gohan quietly complied. He turned his head away from the temptation of taste, pressing his ear to his father’s naked chest, listening to the strong heartbeat drum in rhythm, opposing the random cadence of rain. He felt Goku shift before the other’s mouth pressed to his forehead and one big, warm breath escaped into his wet hair and then he was released. Gohan shivered as cool wind seeped through drenched clothing and made contact with portions of his body that his father’s had been shielding.

The desire to nibble became action and Gohan turned his head so his mouth could once again explore and taste as his fingers teased and touched, eliciting more throaty exclamations from Goku. Gohan used his teeth as liberally as he did his tongue and lips after Goku’s lovely reaction. Gohan found the other’s scent, only slightly diluted by rain and wind, intoxicating.

Goku slid his hands up Gohan’s arms, clutching biceps with bruising force when his nipple was introduced to the heat of his son’s inquisitive mouth. The onslaught continued past his threshold for sustained pleasure, almost dropping him to his knees.

As he realized he was overwhelming his father with sensation, Gohan tightened his hold around his father’s waist before slowly pulling his mouth away. The knowledge it was possible to overpower Goku in some manner brought a smirk to his lips as he gazed into half-closed eyes as dark as his own.

His son’s smirk served as another reality check for Goku. It was not a look he would have ever expected to cross Gohan’s face – at least not directed at him. It also advised Goku that his son was very much an adult and very capable of making decisions and taking actions he had no jurisdiction over. It was not a look of a person having second thoughts or regrets about what was occurring. Goku felt reassured by it and answered his son’s boldness with a heartened smile of his own. He moved to recapture Gohan’s lips before quickly fumbling with buttons of his son’s wet work shirt – growling when Gohan chuckled.

Gohan smirk mellowed to a smile as he halted his father’s hands gently beneath his own before undoing the buttons himself as his father’s hands covered his own. He shivered under the intensity of Goku’s gaze, not certain what was so special about him removing his shirt, but enjoying the silent appreciation. He laughed softly as Goku tried to remove the shirt after the last button in the center came loose, too hasty to realize the buttons at the cuffs had yet to be dealt with. He stepped back as his father’s growl indicated mounting frustration.

A small chuckle from Gohan mocked his zealous behavior and caused Goku to blush. He was forced to see a bigger picture as his son stepped back. The sodden shirt hooked behind Gohan’s back as he worked the sleeves off his arms. Tantalizing, damp skin was enough to elicit Goku to contemplate shredding the hampering material, if that’s what it took to get to more sooner.

Gohan pressed a finger to his father’s chest to stall him before chiding him with a simple smile. The last button came undone soon after and he let the shirt slip from his arms to the saturated ground.

The garment might have survived the inevitable mud stains if Goku hadn’t felt the perverse need to trample it underfoot as he rushed Gohan; the initial impact between them causing his son’s feet to skid along the ground, tearing clumps of grass up by the roots. Another engrossing kiss ensued followed by mouths and hands slipping and skimming over the next bit of precipitation-soaked skin within reach as hisses and moans encouraged further delving while drowning out the whispering of the trees.

Predictably hands dropped to the remaining barriers between them, fingers testing and feinting their way past waistbands before retreating. Gohan was the first to show his impatience, pulling his father’s hands to his zipper. “Please,” he requested even as he felt for the knot in Goku’s sash.

Without hesitation Goku snapped the button to Gohan’s pants and pulled the copper zipper down. Gohan’s fingers took little time in unraveling the waterlogged sash at Goku’s waist, emptying his hands of it as soon as it came loose, sliding his hands between orange material and flesh, skimming his father’s behind with fingertips before palming the smooth skin revealed.

Wet khakis proved to be more of a hindrance, sticking closely to Gohan’s skin, making Goku take his time and allowing him the opportunity to enjoy the moment instead of rushing through it. This was a situation he never would have expected himself to be in and the moment needed to be fully appreciated for the occasion it was. Once the slacks were loosened he grabbed handfuls of Gohan’s firm ass, drawing his hands and what they held closer, pressing their bodies tightly together as he kissed Gohan. His tongue twirled into his son’s mouth and he hummed encouragement when Gohan pressed back; meanwhile enjoying the feeling of his son’s nails catching the skin of his back.

Pulling his mouth away from Goku’s, Gohan glided his tongue down his father’s throat, then across his chest in search of that delectable, sensitive flesh he had discovered earlier. One of his hands strayed away from Goku’s behind and then drew up his father’s side, finding the twin; sucking on one while toying with the other.

Goku closed his eyes in disbelief and groaned, “Gohan…” All the while wondering why someone had decided this had to be considered ‘bad’. He couldn’t let this go now that he knew Gohan desired the same. It had been the correct course, although futile in the end, to stay away. The knowledge he couldn’t keep Gohan – after – left him shaken. Goku dropped away as the daydream come to life began crumbling.

Muscles of the body pressed against his went from tense to listless and Gohan grudgingly moved his mouth away before looking up. “Dad?” The devastated look on his father’s face was disconcerting – to say the least.

At the thought of having to push this away Goku began to tremble. He couldn’t speak what was on his mind, because his throat choked up. He squeezed his eyes shut wishing for reality to be dispelled by the wind…but it wasn’t.

His father’s behavior made Gohan frown in consternation before he grabbed one of Goku’s ears and pulled on it just enough to cause a bit of pain to gain his attention. “Dad. Talk to me,” he demanded as Goku rubbed his abused ear after stepping back a pace. “Do you not want this?” he asked, wondering if this had all been a waste of time. Some sort of sham; a game he did not find humorous.

“No…oh gods, Gohan – I want this,” Goku hurried to assure Gohan this wasn’t one-sided, but failed to be able to communicate his fears as quickly. “I-I just don’t know – once won’t be enough – and we can’t continue…we shouldn’t even be….” He faltered over every sentence that came out of his mouth as panic continued building.

“Stop,” Gohan demanded, his voice dark with a hook to it Goku had never heard from his son before. Goku started to shake his head, but Gohan gripped him by the chin and caught his eyes with his own gaze. “Please,” the want in Gohan’s voice twisted Goku’s gut with lust. “Don’t second-guess this,” he said as he deftly slipped his other hand down, grabbing his father’s flagging erection and began slowly stroking.

Goku fists clenched as he gasped and arched into his son’s pull before nodding and Gohan smiled gratefully before retracting his hands. Goku began to object only to be sidetracked yet again as Gohan hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his own pants, working the wet material off his hips and down his legs as quickly as he could. Goku mentally jerked himself out of his dumb amazement and followed suit. He could hardly believe Gohan was actually naked in his presence, the adult body of his son more stunning than he’d allowed himself to imagine.

Gohan gathered in his own eyeful before he spoke. “Good thing we haven’t gone skinny dipping in years.” His voice held a mixture of understanding and humor. If they had, would they have realized sooner? As a man, his father was amazing to look at – maybe it wasn’t such a mystery as to why he’d found Goku attractive.

The attention would have embarrassed Goku if Gohan hadn’t softened his words with an understanding look. Not to mention his son’s erection indicated the attraction was shared. He nodded. “It would have been uncomfortable to explain.” He still had difficulty believing this was happening. He shivered as the wind blew against his back while Gohan approached him.

This time instead of initiating a kiss Gohan simply stood within touching distance, reaching out to lightly trace his fingertips wherever he felt like letting them roam over his father’s skin. He found the topography of Goku’s body fascinating.

Mapping his body hadn’t been a prospect to Goku, but he was content to let Gohan touch, enjoying the shivers coursing through him at his son’s delicate contact. Heat invisibly traced over his skin was dispersed by water following the same path shortly after his son’s fingers had moved on.

Gohan was less enthusiastic about letting Goku be a by-stander, drawing one of his father’s hands to his chest – indicating he wanted participation – this wasn’t a one-man show. He’d had enough one-sided participation while struggling with his fantasies.

Light touches may gratify Gohan, but if Goku were to be a contributor then he wanted continuous affirmation this was real. His touches were full palm, squeezing or heavy groping. Gohan’s hisses were a testament of satisfaction even when Goku thought he had been too rough. He swallowed hard when Gohan gently took one of his wrists in hand and slowly guided it down, until their paralleled hands were curled around his son’s erection.

Gohan breathed heavily through his mouth as he thrust into his father’s hand, cooing as pleasure coursed through him from the combination of physical touch and mental freedom. His father’s other hand gripped his shoulder hard, introducing stability to the dreamlike, drizzly setting. He welcomed the grounding pressure as beacon, drawing him back when he would have let himself go under.

“Fuck…” Goku growled low, the crude word escaping before he bit down on his tongue to stall any other profanities that would rush forth. His son’s actions proving as desperate and needy as he felt: and he was becoming more so by the moment.

The short outburst pleased Gohan; his father wasn’t as innocent or as moral as first glance would indicate. There was something deeper to the man than the hero symbolism Gohan had held him to for so many years: possibly darker, maybe more dangerous, but most certainly more thrilling. It brought them to even ground in his eyes. Made his father a man with needs, just as he was. He moved closer and brought their lips together again as he reached for Goku’s other wrist and dragged it down, guiding it to his back. He shivered as his father’s splayed fingers soothed over his ass. Then he awkwardly captured his father’s fingertips in order to direct Goku towards his other desire.

Goku tensed. “Gohan?” He wasn’t certain what Gohan was doing…or what was expected of him.

“I want you inside me,” Gohan whispered against his father’s lips, eyes open to ascertain his seriousness was communicated fully.

Technically Goku understood what his son wanted, but the process did not seem possible without causing pain. “I don’t want to hurt you, Gohan,” Goku said quietly. Despite how much he wanted this, it wasn’t worth causing his son injury; wasn’t there supposed to be lube or something?

Gohan could feel himself flushing, the thought of having to explain this to his father of all people…“I didn’t come all the way out here just to pummel trees in a storm, Father,” he shook his head, dragging Goku’s relaxed, more pliant fingers to touch him.

Goku felt his eyes widen. He didn’t exactly get what Gohan was referring to, but there was slickness to his son’s skin in the area that was more than just rainwater…some sort of lubricant, he surmised, blushing as he finally filled in the blanks. His son smirked again, that sly little lift of the lips that made Goku wonder and anticipate what other new things he was about to learn about the person in front of him. “Oh.”

“I know – every parent thinks their children are innocent,” Gohan smoothed one of his hands over his father’s erection, causing Goku’s breath to catch in surprise, “But I haven’t been ignorant in this subject since college.” It was best to destroy any remaining images his father might still hold of him as a child.

Goku wanted to growl and whine at the same time, his son’s words causing him to feel jealousy, relief and embarrassment. “I won’t be the first guy you’ve been with?” It was becoming easier for Goku to think of this person before him as person and adult in his own right – not just his offspring.

Gohan shook his head, wondering about the fleeting emotions crossing his father’s features. “No.”

“You’ll be mine,” Goku admitted quietly as he looked down and away in discomfiture.

Gohan cupped his father’s cheek directing Goku to look at him. Understanding made him change course from the reckless pace he had set. He kissed his father calmly, slowly letting it build to heated passion that invited his father to participate at a speed which suited to his tastes. Once again he ran his hand down Goku’s arm, reminding his dad gently that he was ready…when his father was.

Goku worked his fingers slowly gaining more assurance in his actions the more often Gohan would leave the kiss in order to draw a quick breath, release a small moan or a quiet exclamation.

“More,” Gohan breathed and Goku added a second finger, then a little while later, a third at his son’s appreciative groan. “Deeperrrr,” the younger purred, widening his stance and pressing his hips back.

Despite the oddness of the sensation Goku slid his fingers deeper. His son suddenly arched, his hands gripping tightly at Goku’s biceps, before he collapsed back into him – groaning as he pressed his forehead to his father’s chest, “Please,” the plea came out breathy, but understandable, “Fuck me.”

Goku stilled, although his heart pounded ridiculously, and then carefully he disengaged his fingers from his partner before slowly going to his knees, reaching up to grab Gohan’s wrist, gently dragging the younger to kneel with him. The concept of what was to take place wasn’t foreign to him. He had witnessed several occasions of same gender pairings in the wild, not to mention some magazines, but he still had doubts. “You’re sure this won’t hurt?” his fantasies had always been very vague – intentionally naïve – after a certain point.

Sensing that if he let his father dwell on it too long, then they’d have to start back at square one caused Gohan to shake his head. He shifted his weight, snatching his shirt from the clumped grass and spreading it beneath him before sitting on it. Then he used his heels, then hands, to guide Goku until his father was nestled between his legs. Placing one hand behind his father’s neck he lay back into the muddy grass, pulling Goku with him.

Goku let himself be urged forward his weight shifting from his knees to include the use of his hands planted on the ground to either side of Gohan’s ribs. Rain fell against his back as grasses shielded them from uneven horizons: a wind blown curtain to the rest of the world. He swallowed, “How…” Goku wondered if it were anyone but Gohan if he’d hesitate as much – he knew how….

“Place yourself against me,” Gohan instructed as he tilted his hips, “And then slowly press inside,” his moan interrupted his directions as he felt Goku’s heat slip against him. “I’ll be a little tight at first,” he warned, hissing slightly as his father did as instructed. The toy he’d used earlier wasn’t as big as his father, and it was going to hurt, but he was willing to sacrifice the lack of prep time and additional lubrication in favor of this happening now. Gohan didn’t know if or when a similar opportunity would present itself and he wasn’t willing to spoil this one. Somewhere in the back of his mind, hardly even the echo of a thought, part of him hoped that maybe, just maybe, a bit of this kind of pain would kill his obsession with his father.

Goku bit his lower lip as he gripped himself and then pressed forward, wondering how Gohan could possibly want this. As he succeeded he realized ‘tight’ was hardly the word he would have chosen. He had to be hurting Gohan; bodies weren’t designed to take this, were they? He decided constricting would be the word he would use to describe what he was feeling, as he became enveloped by Gohan – almost painful – slow moving more for his own preservation. He couldn’t believe Gohan’s body kept taking him, accepting his persistent intrusion until he was fully inside. Goku’s chest settled against Gohan’s as he panted. He groaned as Gohan suavely wrapped his legs around his hips. Even that subtle move on his son’s part caused him incredible sensation.

“You okay?” Gohan asked quietly through his panting as he ran one hand through his father’s hair, the other trailing over Goku’s back until it rested between his shoulder blades. He could taste blood on his teeth that had been released from his lips as he’d struggled to stay silent as his father penetrated him. The little flicker of superfluous hope from earlier had evaporated like steam – the pain only served to mark this as real – it didn’t lessen his desire at all.

Goku nodded against Gohan’s chest, trying to catch his breath. He shuddered as his son’s hand soothed down his back, and then up again – amazed at the patience the touch communicated.

“Take it slow,” Gohan advised; not only because it made sense, but he also wanted this to last. Wanted to remember the rain washing over them, wind moving past them – his father inside him.

If he had the breath in him, Goku may have laughed. He didn’t really see that he had much of a choice in the matter. He moaned as Gohan’s legs squeezed his waist a little tighter and then growled as Gohan wound his hips slowly. The low noise was choked off by a gasp as Gohan continued to move, trying, and succeeding, in acclimating him to the new surroundings. Goku drew the conclusion his son was attempting to kill him as the torturous motion continued seductively, but not so quickly he found release. A less subtle move on Gohan’s part and Goku felt himself slide marginally from Gohan’s grip. He was pressing back in before he gave the action thought, gasping then groaning.

Gohan echoed the noise as he felt his father move. “Feels good?” he asked after another moment of stillness between them passed, while thanking his inherent resilience for recent pain becoming only a vivid memory. Grasses bent and bowed around them obliviously as dictated by the indifferent wind.

Goku couldn’t verbalize how good, answering Gohan’s question by pulling away fractionally only to press forward again – rewarded by another moan escaping from Gohan. He sustained measured movements, continuously surprised someone’s – his son’s – body could manage to stretch in order to accommodate. The feel of it was fantastic.

The dark sky grew steadily more so as minutes past. Goku’s motions became longer and fuller as his pace increased in increments. Gohan was now no longer able to speak; calling out and arching, alternately clawing at Goku’s back or tearing up chunks of grassroots with a blind need to hang onto something. Low, grunting animalistic noises were Goku’s vocal responses – counter point to his son’s needy and wordless entreaties. The man beneath him demanded all of his awareness, distracting him from the world. Gohan’s breathy, attention-catching calls were all the assurance Goku needed to continue.

Gohan was barely aware of the mud squishing beneath his shoulders and into his hair as he continued to take everything his father was willing to give and then greedily expecting more, Goku never disappointing. Reality was more fulfilling than he’d ever anticipated in his fantasies.

Goku’s hand slipped in the mud, causing him to correct his weight. This new vantage allowing him to watch as Gohan’s eyes snapped open, glowing hematite gray – perhaps a reflection of the last of the day’s retreating light. Blindly gazing at the leaves and clouds above as his breath hitched once more – body bowing beneath his father’s, then calling out as though lost, even as he found what was sought.

As the sun sunk below its summit Goku followed his son’s cry – shuddering and howling, what might have been his son’s name, as he fell to depths where no redemption was to be found. The harmony was peaceful, dark, something he had no intention or desire to escape from: a place momentarily capable of swallowing thoughts before they were conceived.

It was a peace built of shadows: deceptive and fleeting. As consciousness insisted on becoming stronger, the shadows of mind faded from black to gray, allowing thoughts to nip at Goku even as he mentally shied away. Too soon the cocooning afterglow weakened, no longer providing comfort and guilt wedged its way in, gnawing at him relentlessly. Guilt for treading in currents he should have never tested in the first place. Guilt pressing past the fragile barriers he’d tried to fortify with distance. Guilt for not regretting this situation as much as he knew he should: guilt rapidly building, compounding, attempting to drown him.

Gohan wrapped his arms around his father’s shoulders as he felt him tremble. He slid his hand over his father’s cheek, speaking because he didn’t know what else to do. “Are you okay?”

Goku shook his head, knowing he should be the one asking that question of his son. Anger at his own self-pity gave him voice. “N-no,” he gasped, trying to pull more air into his lungs while attempting to still his guilt-induced shaking. “I-I am s-sorry,” he finally managed weakly.

Gohan stilled at his father’s apology. “Sorry?” he asked, his voice carried a dangerous edge to it.

“Did we go too far? Should I have stayed away…” Goku voiced his concerns – yelping as Gohan rolled them until it was Goku whose back was now in the soggy mud and flattened grass, causing him to have to blink up into the rain.

“Don’t be sorry,” Gohan insisted, “This was both of us – I wanted this, Dad. I’ve wanted this for so long…” Goku settled as he listened to Gohan’s assurances. “Only be sorry if you regret it now…You – you don’t regret this, do you?”

Goku shook his head. “No. I don’t regret this. I regret having to get up and leave this place, face your wife…or mine…”

Gohan smiled, gaining a weak echo of one from Goku. “Okay,” he smoothed a muddied hand down Goku’s face, laughing as the rain immediately began washing dirt away. He leaned down until their noses were touching and purred. “I can understand those regrets. But for now,” he kissed Goku, rotating his hips teasingly, “You were right, earlier; once isn’t going to be enough. May I suggest we take full advantage of the rest of this rainy night? I have so much to show you,” the last was spoken quietly into Goku’s ear.

Goku could only gasp and then groan weakly at his son, ridiculously helpless to resist in the situation he found himself in and more than content with being so. He felt himself stirring again. “Okay…” he growled as Gohan tried to distract him from talking with another swivel of his hips, “Gohan,” Goku purred, turning to capture Gohan’s lips with his own, affirming his consent.