Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

Summer.



The winds were fiercer at this altitude. A gust, feeling too cool for a summer night, brushed lavender bangs past Trunks’ eyes.

“Hey. Don't fall behind now.”

Trunks quickly glanced at Gohan, seeing the distance between them, and he started to walk faster. Even so, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the sky, his gaze inevitably drawn toward the blanket of stars.

"You can't see stars like this in the city,” Trunks said, rejoining Gohan’s side, his pack clanging on his back with every hurried step. Back home, the closest he had ever gotten to a view like this was after an android attack had destroyed the power. The blackout lasted almost a week—but Trunks and his mother hardly had time to stare up at the sky, too focused on their survival.

They reached a clearing, where they set their things down. Gohan got a fire going and Trunks listened to the wood crack and pop. As they warmed themselves by the fire, Gohan poked at a log. It turned and burned anew, embers flickering into the air.

“There’s a reason why I brought you here,” Gohan said. His gaze was still fixed on the fire he was tending to, the glow of the flames reflecting onto his skin. Trunks watched Gohan closely, finding himself curious. He knew that Gohan brought him along so he could train him. He never thought there would be any deeper reason than that. Gohan continued, “This area is important to me. This is where my training began.”

Trunks took a moment to reflect on the place. Trunks could fly just as well as Gohan—but Gohan insisted that they walked. As they hiked the mountain, Trunks got to spend time in the wilderness, appreciating its fresh grass, its clear skies. There were even smells of the mountains that were nothing like home. While it seemed like a beautiful place, however, Trunks had noticed that it was a long way from Gohan’s childhood home.

“Why didn’t your dad train you at home?”

“My dad wasn’t my first teacher. My mother would have never allowed it,” Gohan said. He smiled a little at that last bit. “Piccolo brought me to a mountain near here. It was eventually destroyed. A lot of the landscape around here has changed over battles, over time. But in many ways, it’s still the same place.”

“I see,” Trunks said. His gaze lowered. He liked to think of Gohan as his closest friend—but while Gohan knew just about everything there was to know about Trunks, having known him since he was a baby, there was a whole history to Gohan that Trunks didn’t know. Would likely never know, given how private Gohan could be. Anytime Gohan did share a bit of his past with Trunks, Trunks treated the information as if it was something sacred.

“The training you and I are going to do is much different than the training Piccolo put me through. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But choosing this location was important to me—as your mentor, I want to be able to pass all of my experiences down to you.”

Trunks nodded a little, partly pleased by this, but also worried. He wasn’t quite naive enough to not understand what Gohan meant by ‘passing on’. The whole point of training was to defeat the androids—and with a threat as great as the androids looming over their heads, it was difficult to not think of the darkest possibilities.

Trunks stared into the fire. Watched it burn and spark. He felt a troubling ache in his chest.

The simple fact was that their lives, their world, could fizzle out at any moment. Gohan placed a lot of faith in Trunks, though Trunks didn’t have a clue why. He was never plopped onto a mountain and trained as a small child. He may have had Gohan’s heart and resolve—but he didn’t have any of his experience or wisdom. Even so, Gohan often treated Trunks as if he were the world’s last hope.

If all things failed, if things turned for the worst, Trunks would be proud to be Gohan’s legacy. But the idea of that was too frightening. Too depressing.

The world had lost enough heroes.

And also...

After they finished dinner, Gohan set up the sleeping bag. Trunks was small enough to crawl under the covers with him. As the night started to settle down, Trunks found himself laying on his back, fighting the inklings of sleep so he could stare at the stars a little longer.

He blinked in surprise when a sudden spark of bright light raced across the night sky. Trunks almost wondered if he imagined it.

“I think I just a saw a shooting star.”

“Better make a wish,” Gohan said, his tone light. He was still turned on his side.

“I wish the dragonballs would come back.”

Trunks was taken aback when Gohan suddenly laughed. He was laying so close that Trunks could feel his body rumbling underneath the covers.

“Wishing for more wishes? Isn't that cheating?”

Trunks pouted at the joke. It was a real wish. He couldn't recall ever seeing the dragonballs. He slipped a little deeper under the covers, buried up to his chin, and wondered what else he could wish for. One thought crossed his mind—he thought of his dad, and what it would be like to meet him. But then he remembered that his father and Gohan’s friends were killed by the androids, and that the better wish would have been justice for their deaths, and Trunks felt suddenly ashamed of his wish.

“What are you thinking about?” Gohan said, snapping Trunks out of his daze. Trunks turned his head on his pillow, surprised to see Gohan looking back at him. Reflections from the distant fire cast amber and shadows over Gohan’s face.

“Trying to change my wish.”

“Don’t,” Gohan said. He rolled onto his back. “It’s a good wish.”

They laid in silence a few moments longer. Trunks shifted uncomfortably.

“You can move in closer, if you want,” Gohan said. Trunks could sense the sleep in his grumbling voice. “It is pretty cold.”

Trunks wasn’t cold but it seemed like a good opportunity to be closer to Gohan. Heart beating a little faster, Trunks swallowed his nerves and decided to be brave. He scooted in closer and even dared to lay his head on Gohan’s chest. Trunks supposed this wasn’t too different from when he was a kid—well, a smaller kid—and Gohan even placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him in closer. The same as he had all those years ago, before Gohan’s war against the androids had separated them. Before age and duty got in the way.

The warmth seemed to radiate from Gohan’s body. Trapped underneath the blankets, Trunks felt safe and protected. He didn't always feel safe and protected. In fact, there was still this vague reminiscence of his bed back home, when he laid alone under the covers trying to block out the noises from the city.

But for now, at least, he could relax.



Trunks’ eyelids fluttered open.

He was greeted by a still darkness. In the distance, he could hear the hushed whispers of branches in motion. He recalled the moments before he fell asleep, and he tried listening for the crackle of the fire, but there was none.

He could, however, hear a steady heartbeat.

Trunks lifted his head off of Gohan’s chest. Only a few hours seemed to have passed—the sky was still dark, the stars still present. He lifted himself up on his elbow, the edge of the sleeping bag slipping down his body, and glanced back at the fireplace. It was completely dead, though the smell of the burnt ashes and wood still lingered in the air.

He rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep on Gohan—but Gohan didn’t seem to mind, at least. Trunks looked down at him. In the faint moonlight, Trunks could make out a few of Gohan’s facial features. Trunks paused for a moment, looking at him. Gohan looked so different when he was asleep. Trunks had never seen him so at peace.

Trunks found himself staring. Without realizing it, Trunks did admire Gohan a lot. Gohan was one of the only masculine role models in his life. Because of Trunks’ young age, he didn’t quite realize the significance of Gohan’s role—but he could tell that there was something different about Gohan. That there was something special about his capacity for strength and kindness. His inherent goodness.

When he looked at Gohan on the surface level, he saw the type of person he aspired to be. He looked at the sharp features of his nose and jawline. The faint scars on his face. These were the features of an adult warrior, something that Trunks with his soft hands and baby fat in his cheeks was far from reaching. He found himself reaching for Gohan’s face, wanting to feel the person he admired. To touch his skin and compare it to his own.

Trunks licked his lips nervously as his fingertips inched closer to Gohan’s face. He softly touched Gohan’s chin first. Gohan didn’t stir—so Trunks became more bold. He stroked the side of Gohan’s face. Gohan was shaved but Trunks could feel small pricks of early stubble on his face—the hair that could grow, if he’d let it. His hand moved a little too close to Gohan’s ear—Trunks quickly yanked his hand away when Gohan stirred, his head turning a micro fraction away from him.

Trunks held his breath, waiting to make sure Gohan didn’t wake up. When he did not, Trunks dared to touch his hair. His hair was thick, surprisingly soft. Gohan made no motion, his breaths steady. Even so, Trunks decided it was time to go back to sleep.

He laid next to Gohan, pulling the sleeping bag back up. The sleeping bag trapped in all of their body heat. When Trunks was this close, he could even catch onto Gohan’s scent. Trunks stirred in place, feeling a familiar warmth in his body. The same type of warmth he sometimes felt when he was at home, alone, in his bed.

Trunks’ heart started to beat a little faster. He closed his eyes, trying to urge himself back to sleep. But every time he breathed in, he caught Gohan’s scent. It filled him. It made his stomach flutter.

Trunks thought about Gohan a lot when he was gone. Trunks supposed he might’ve had a crush—but he never had a crush before, so he wasn’t certain. What he did know was that right then, at that moment, Gohan’s presence was all he could focus on. He reopened his eyes.

“Gohan,” he said gently, testing to see if Gohan would respond. When Gohan didn’t say anything, Trunks rolled onto his back.

He stared up at the stars. There was a moment of hesitation, his nerves fluttering. Shoving aside his fears, he inched his hand down his body. Down between his legs.

His breath hitched when his hand brushed over his groin. He could feel the beginnings of his arousal through his shorts. His body reacted to the touch of his hand, warmth flooding through his body, his heart beginning to race.

He started to palm himself through his clothing. Like he usually did, at home alone. He kept his mouth firmly shut, his movements careful, so he wouldn’t disturb the body next to him. His hand rubbed over his cock, over and over. His member stiffened in his underwear, growing in size, straining against the seam of his pants.

Trunks paused long enough to adjust himself. He squirmed underneath the covers, trying to get comfortable in the sleeping bag, but the ground was hard and unforgiving.

Trunks found himself scooting in closer to Gohan, where the ground was a little softer. When he was certain Gohan was still fast asleep, he reached back down and his hands resumed their ministrations.

This time, his hand slipped past the sleeping shorts. He massaged himself through his underwear, the heat growing, and held back the soft groan that threatened to spill past his lips. His body shuddered. The friction of his hand slipped into a steady rhythm, increasing the heat, the pleasure.

It felt good but he wanted more. His underwear felt tight, the pleasure too dull. He spread his legs a little further apart, giving more room for his hand. His cock pulsed under his hand as he started to rub faster. Trunks’ eyes fell shut, a breath shuddering past his lips, his hips slowly rotating upwards to meet his hand.

Head growing hazy with pleasure, Trunks’ body sagged a little deeper under the covers, the blankets up to his nose now.

Gohan moved. Trunks jumped in place, his hand jerking away from his body. In the process of trying to not be seen, he made the mistake of nudging his elbow into Gohan’s side. At that, Gohan sighed softly, a hand reaching up to rub his eye.

“Trunks?”

“I’m here,” Tim managed to say, his voice still heavy with arousal. He cleared his voice, trying to sound more composed, though his face burned with embarrassment. “It’s still late.”

Instead of going back to sleep, Gohan rolled towards him. Trunks’ heart skipped, his stomach dropping. Gohan was looking at him—Trunks could feel his gaze, even though the night shadows obscured most of his face.

“You alright? Are you having troubles falling asleep?”

“A little,” Trunks said, and it wasn’t a complete lie.

To Trunks’ surprise, Gohan wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in closer. Before Trunks could protest, his face was buried in Gohan’s chest, their fronts pressed together.

“It’s getting cold, isn’t it?” Gohan murmured, voice still heavy with sleep, and Trunks blushed furiously when he felt Gohan’s leg move, the limb pushing between Trunks’. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster.

Unsure of what to say, Trunks managed to stammer out, “Yeah. It is.”

They laid like that for a few moments longer. Trunks tried to will down his erection but Gohan’s body was so warm, so inviting. Trunks felt safe in his arms, and something about that feeling made his heart race that much faster. Gohan’s thigh was pressed up against Trunks’ groin and as much as Trunks tried to ignore it, he could not.

Gohan squirmed a little, perhaps to get comfortable, and Trunks flinched in response.

At that, Gohan seemed to still entirely, his breaths coming to a sudden pause.

Fear struck Trunks’ chest when Gohan pulled away from him. He could see Gohan’s silhouette as he backed away, the shape of his head turning downwards towards Trunks’ body. Trunks tucked his legs in, trying not to be seen, hoping the darkness would hide him.

“Trunks, are you…” Gohan trailed off.

Humiliation spread across Trunks’ face and he tried to come up with an excuse—but he wasn’t used to lying to Gohan. If he could have trusted anyone, it was Gohan.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out instead, unsure of what else to say, but knowing that he would be more embarrassed if he outright admitted what he had done. It’d be easier to apologize than to explain. He hoped that would be the end of the conversation, that they could go back to sleep and pretend nothing happened. Instead, the covers moved with a soft sound as Gohan snaked his arm further in, fingertips blindly groping. Trunks flinched but did not draw away when Gohan touched his knee. The hand slid further up his thigh, and Trunks nearly gasped as rough, callused hands went up the hem of his shorts.

Through the opening, Gohan’s fingertips brushed against the front of Trunks’ underwear. Trunks stirred, torn between pulling away and moving closer. Gohan suddenly paused, almost in thought.

“You’re hard,” Gohan said, in no particular tone. He didn’t even seem surprised. Trunks almost wondered if that was a bad thing. Quietly, almost as if choosing his words carefully, he said, “Has Bulma ever talked to you—”

“Yes, of course,” Trunks said, face hot with embarrassment. He reached down, grabbing Gohan’s wrist almost forcefully. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know why I—”

“Trunks, it’s okay,” Gohan said gently enough. Trunks went quiet, though he wanted to argue and protest. “It’s normal.” Gohan paused for a moment, the silence almost suffocating. Voice hesitant, almost uncertain, he asked, “Do… do you want me to help?”

Trunks was stunned speechless. Admittedly, he had dreamt about it. Fantasized about it. Some nights, he imagined his hand was Gohan’s instead, as perverse as it was. In all his thoughts, he was eager and confident, but now that he was actually being presented with the opportunity to live out his fantasies—he choked.

At Trunks’ hesitation, Gohan tried gently, “I could give you some privacy.”

“No,” Trunks said at once, finally finding his voice. Bashful, but resolute, he continued, “I want you to.”

“Alright,” Gohan said after a moment. Breathing out a little, releasing his nerves, Trunks lowered the waistbands of his clothing, freeing his erection. His eyelids fluttered when Gohan cupped his cock, his hand rough but his touch gentle. Gohan’s fingers wrapped around Trunks with just the right amount of pressure, his palm warm against Trunks’ flesh.

Trunks gasped softly when Gohan began to massage his cock, his hand winding up and down the entire length of him. Gohan’s large hand seemed to envelop Trunks’ entire cock, and Trunks shuddered at how nice it felt.

His body leaned into Gohan’s, and Gohan’s free arm snuck around Trunks’ waist, pulling him closer into his embrace. Trunks moaned softly, his head falling forward onto Gohan’s chest. His hips rolled forward, pushing his cock deeper into Gohan’s hand. Gohan’s hand built up a steady rhythm, pumping his cock at an even pace.

To touch himself and to be touched by someone else were two separate feelings. Trunks couldn’t quite place a reason on why, but it was more exciting, somehow. His heart was fluttering, his nerves shaking. He could hear his breath quickening.

Gohan’s hand moved closer to the tip of Trunks’ cock, where it was more sensitive. Trunks trembled in his hand, his cock leaking precum onto Gohan’s palm. It was getting difficult to control his voice—unfiltered moans and gasps escaped past his lips. His small hands grabbed hold of Gohan’s gi, grabbing tight, twisting in the fabric.

Trunks pushed his cock into Gohan’s grip, over and over again. Gohan pulled Trunks in closer, his breath fanning against Trunks’ ear, making him shudder. His hand massaged over the entirety of Trunks’ length, palm rubbing down the head and length and over his balls then up again. Giving just the right amount of pressure, attention, and skill that made Trunks’ face go hot. He wanted more—Trunks kept rocking his hips, chasing after Gohan’s attention.

The heat was building up in his groin. His pleasure was rising and rising. The covers felt heavy, everything was just so hot.

Trunks gave a soft, broken cry, the noise breaking through the silence, and he could sense Gohan’s pace quickening—but not too fast, never too fast. Trunks could feel sparks racing up and down his spine, his chest rising and falling with each gasp and moan. Gohan’s other hand travelled over Trunks’ body, sneaking its way underneath his shirt, up his stomach to his chest to his nipple.

Trunks had never touched there before. He gasped sharply as Gohan’s finger flicked over a nipple. Trunks’ could feel his cock tremble in Gohan’s grip. Gohan, sensing Trunks’ reaction, continued. He stroked Trunks’ cock, his hand tweaking and pulling at Trunks’ nipple.

Trunks whole body was on fire. His body seemed to go weak, sagging into Gohan’s embrace. His thighs began to tremble, his eyes falling shut. He knew he was close. Close already. Trunks had never had someone touch him before and more importantly, it was Gohan. Gohan. His mentor’s hands felt too good.

“Trunks,” Gohan murmured. Trunks finally opened his eyes at his name. He dared to look up at Gohan.

Trunks could not see his expression in the dim light. But he could feel Gohan getting closer, his breath touching Trunks’ cheek. Gohan kissed the corner of his mouth—Trunks reached for him, hands landing on Gohan’s shirt, the fabric twisting into his hands as held on tight. He reached for Gohan’s lips again. Gohan kissed him again, directly on the mouth this time, his lips warm and surprisingly soft.

Trunks moaned against his lips, not lasting long. A shudder ran through his body, his entire form tensing and stilling, and he released a groan as he finished in Gohan’s hand. Gohan stroked him through his orgasm—Trunks’ thighs quaked, his toes curled, his head fell back, his eyes squeezed shut. Hot seed rolled down his cock, filling Gohan’s hand.

Gohan pulled him in tight, letting Trunks ride out his orgasm. Trunks trembled in his embrace until finally, a wave of almost exhaustion fell over his body, and everything seemed still again.



Autumn.



The winds were beginning to calm. The curtains of the tent settled in place, the whistling sound of the air falling into silence. Trunks caught the subtle hitch in Gohan’s breath, beckoning Trunks to look.

Through heavy lidded eyes, Trunks peered up at Gohan. Gohan’s face was deeply flushed, dark lashes shadowing over his eyes, the evening light glowing through the tent and revealing the contours of his muscles.

Trunks’ gaze travelled from Gohan’s face to the crook of his neck to his broad shoulders to the bandaged limb that was once Gohan’s left arm. Trunks’ gaze turned away in shame, as he often did. He didn’t want to be reminded of what his foolish mistake cost Gohan—and possibly humanity.

His eyes travelled down Gohan’s body, down the center of his torso to his groin. The place where their bodies met was barely visible in the shadows of their closeness but Trunks caught of a glimpse of color and scars and dark hair.

Gohan pushed forward and Trunks winced, feeling the entire length moving inside him. Stretching him, filling him. Gohan’s cock was hot and thick and pulsing. Gohan groaned deep, forcing Trunks’ attention back to his face. His mentor’s eyes were screwed shut, lips slightly parted, and Trunks could feel his heart quickening at the sight. His hands reached out, touching Gohan’s muscular form, feeling the hot skin. Hands tracing the hard edges of the body that he so greatly admired, desired.

Gohan stopped pushing only once he was fully seated. Trunks released the heavy breath he had been holding in. In that breath, Trunks could feel all of Gohan. Could feel how he filled him, stretched him. The pain had long subsided—Gohan had used his fingers long and good, to the point where Trunks started to enjoy it. Craved it. But that did not stop the discomfort—Trunks’ entire body was tense, trying to get used to the strange sensation of Gohan moving inside him. Trying to keep his thighs spread for a man who monolithed him in size.

But none of that mattered. The only thing that Trunks could focus on was the sheer excitement of it all. His heart was racing fast, his stomach was twisted in anticipation, adrenaline in his veins, hot desire in his groin. No amount of aching in his thighs or discomfort could take away from how badly he wanted this. How long he had waited for this.

“Are you alright?” Gohan asked, voice almost hushed.

“Yeah,” Trunks said, and he was surprised by how breathless he sounded.

Gohan looked into his eyes a moment longer, as if trying to discern if Trunks was being truthful or being brave.

“I mean it,” Trunks said.

The corner of Gohan’s mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “I didn’t say anything.”

The smile caught Trunks so offguard that he didn’t prepare for Gohan moving inside of him—the gentle roll of his hips. Trunks flinched, then sighed. Gohan balanced himself on one elbow, his body drawing in closer. He pushed forward, cock thrusting in deep, and Trunks moaned softly. Weird. But good.

The heat between their bodies was intense. The friction inside of Trunks seemed to steadily increase, building up his pleasure. With every thrust, every drive forward, Trunks became used to the feeling of Gohan’s cock. Used to his girth, his heat, his length. Gohan moved in long strokes, tip to base, and Trunks bit down hard on his bottom lip, focusing on his arousal. Focusing on the dull pleasure behind each stroke.

Gohan buried his face in Trunks’ hair, breathing softly. Trunks closed his eyes, feeling each of Gohan’s exhales, each one seeming to tremor through both of their bodies, like a ripple on the surface of a lake. The warmth of his body seemed to envelop Trunks, embrace him. Trunks wrapped his arms around Gohan’s body, his face buried in Gohan’s chest, and held tight as Gohan slowly thrusted into him.

Gohan’s lips pressed against Trunks’ head, the kiss affectionate.

“Do you remember the first time we were here?” Gohan suddenly asked.

Trunks knew the moment they had set up camp. It was a few months ago. The beaming sun had set and the sky was lit up in stars. It was the first time Trunks had seen a shooting star. It was the first time they had acted on their desires.

There were times where Trunks believed they had traversed every inch of this mountain. Some places were burned in his memory, like this exact campsite. But there were other moments too, when he flew or stood at the peak, and he realized there was still so much left to explore.

Gohan let that thought linger in Trunks’ mind for a moment before whispering, “Kiss me.”

Trunks tilted his head back against the pillow. Due to their height difference, Gohan had to bend his position so his face could meet Trunks’. Trunks wrapped his arms around Gohan’s neck, meeting Gohan halfway, their mouths meeting. At this angle, Gohan’s cock slipped in deep, down to the base. Trunks could feel his body parting, splitting to accommodate Gohan’s size, but Trunks ignored it. He focused on the kiss, focused on the warmth of Gohan’s lips. Trunks’ mouth parted, letting Gohan fill his mouth with his tongue. They tasted each other, their mouths wet. Trunks could feel the swell of his cock, trapped between their bodies, and shuddered.

Gohan finally pulled away. He rocked his entire body on his knees, his hips driving forward, his cock sliding into Trunks. Trunks gasped quietly, his body pushing back to meet Gohan’s hips.

Gohan flinched, his breath hitching.

“Easy,” he said, quiet, as if it was a secret. But there was something heady in his voice, his pupils dilated with desire.

Trunks could tell—could tell that it felt good for Gohan, even if he wouldn’t act on it. That he wanted Trunks just as badly as Trunks wanted him. But Gohan was being careful, as always. Slowing himself down, holding himself back. Like always.

“I’m fine,” Trunks said, voice strained. Breath heavy. “Faster.”

Gohan didn’t say anything but he did give a little more. Their bodies started to move, building up a rhythm. Trunks sighed softly, feeling Gohan moving inside him, the friction increasing, the heat growing.

He held on tight, his hands moving over Gohan’s body. Feeling the flushed skin, the hardened muscle. He breathed into Gohan’s body, his voice tinged with desire. The dull pleasure inside of him was steadily increasing, getting better with each movement. He liked it when Gohan was inside of him—liked it when he was deep. Liked the rhythmic rocking of their bodies on the ground, their tangled limbs. He was intensely focused on every detail, every microfraction of a change in Gohan’s voice as he stifled a groan or gasp, every movement of their bodies.

It’s okay, Trunks thought.

Don’t go easy on me, he wanted to say.

Gohan pushed, brushing something inside of Trunks. Trunks tightened his grip, blunt fingernails digging into Gohan’s back, a spark of pleasure running down his spine. His entire body clenched up in reaction and Gohan suddenly groaned deep, the sound making Trunks blush hard, heat prickling on his face.

He eased his legs apart a little further. His thighs had been straining to accommodate someone of Gohan’s size between his legs and they were beginning to ache. Gohan thrusted, sliding with more ease. The sounds of their hips meeting filled the small space of the tent.

Trunks was breathing hard now, the sounds of his panting breaths attuning to the rhythm of Gohan’s fucking. Everything felt hot, his skin on fire, his cock hard. The angle of Gohan’s thrusts, the steadily increasing speed, built his pleasure. He could feel his arousal climbing, his head hazy with desire, his blood singing with adrenaline, his heart thundering in his chest.

Gohan was reacting too. He breathed hard into Trunks’ hair, his voice deep and guttural, almost animalistic. His thrusts were deep, so deep it almost hurt, almost as if Gohan was trying to get in as deep as he could. So deep they could be cemented at the joining of their bodies.

Their forms clapped together with each thrust. The more vigorous their movements, the more Trunks could feel himself getting lost in the pleasure, the intensity of it all. His senses were filled with the sound, touch and scent of their bodies, their sex.

Gohan’s hand threaded through Trunks’ hair, cradling his head as he drove in harder, deeper. The strength of their fucking should have hurt but it did the opposite. Trunks craved it. Craved the feeling of Gohan pushing inside him, filling him. Craved the excitement, craved how their restraint slowly crumbled apart. The saiyan blood in him was boiling, electric. Trunks kissed wherever he could reach, tasting the sheen of sweat that had risen on Gohan’s skin.

His hips were pushing back to meet Gohan’s thrusts. Up and up and up. The angle helped Gohan drive in. Sparks of pleasure raced up and down Trunks’ spine, his nerves shaking, his body trembling with every thrust. He could no longer restrain his voice—the tent was filled with the sounds of his wanton moans.

Gohan seemed just as desperate. He was groaning deep, his thrusts hard and fast now. Trunks wrapped his legs around Gohan’s form, allowing Gohan to slide in better. He could hear Gohan murmuring his name. Trunks was lost, drunk, in the pleasure of it all. His cock kept pressing up again Gohan’s lower stomach, the pressure increasing his desire. The steady pounding inside of him, brushing against his prostate.

Trunks arched off the ground, feeling heat rush through his body. He reached up to grab onto Gohan, wrapping his legs and arms around Gohan’s form a little tighter, clinging on.

He could hear Gohan’s voice, low and deep, groaning into his ear. He seemed to thrust faster yet, rocking Trunks against the hard ground, his cock plunging in deeper. Trunks gripped tighter, fingernails digging into Gohan’s flesh, raking down the skin. Gohan’s embrace was so warm, so tight. Trunks could feel Gohan deep inside of him, their bodies connected and intertwined, as if perfectly puzzled together.

A low, guttural groan escaped past Gohan’s lips, his hips suttering to a still. Trunks could feel Gohan filling him, his seed thick and hot. Trunks’ face burned ever hotter as Gohan unloaded deep inside him, coating his sensitive inner walls, all while moaning into his ear.

Even after Gohan had finished, his body laid over Trunks, his form steadily rising and falling as he caught his breath—Trunks held on. And he didn’t let go.



Winter.



Trunks was better at controlling his ki now. The cold hardly affected him, his energy keeping him warm. He glanced up, eyes narrowed against the snowswept winds that blew in his direction. Gohan was a few paces ahead of him, leading the way through the blinding white. Trunks watched his back, barely making out the sigil on his gi.

Trunks’ eyes fell to the ground. Gohan’s footsteps were planted deep in the snow. Trunks slowed to a pause. He stepped into Gohan’s footsteps, comparing the size to find the similarity but only noticing the differences.

“Trunks?” he could hear Gohan say. Trunks’ senses were so keen now that he could hear Gohan’s voice even in the howling mountain winds.

Trunks said nothing, his eyes still glued to the snow.

Gohan approached him, entering Trunks’ peripherals. Still, he kept his head bowed. Gohan placed a hand on his shoulders.

“Are you tired?” Gohan said. It was just a guess—but usually, after training, Trunks would be so exhausted that he couldn’t walk. The question was just Gohan’s way of asking if Trunks was alright without directling invading his boundaries.

“Do you really think I’ll ever become a super saiyan, Gohan?” Trunks asked, uncertainty in his voice.

When he dared to finally look up, Gohan had a thoughtful look on his face.

“Well, of course I do,” he said, seeming to choose his words carefully. He offered a small, almost reassuring smile. It was the first time Trunks had seen him smile in awhile. “Otherwise, what would be the point in bringing you here?”

Trunks couldn’t bring himself to smile back. Gohan’s face slowly fell.

“What else is it?”

“You lost your arm. Trying to save me. The androids are getting worse and I still can’t—”Trunks stopped himself, unable to admit it. His emotions swelled at the near confession of his failures, choking him up.

Without saying anything, Gohan wrapped his arm around Trunks, pulling him to his body. Trunks wanted to pull away, to punish himself.

It had been a long day of training. Trunks knew he was making progress. That he was getting stronger. But progress just didn’t seem to be happening fast enough. Attaining the level of a super saiyan felt far out of Trunks’ power. Beyond his grasp. And the androids—the androids were even further beyond that.

Trunks couldn’t help Gohan. He couldn’t be the person that Gohan wanted him, needed him to be. And every moment that Gohan had to focus on him, to dote on him, Trunks felt undeserving of. He felt undeserving of Gohan’s affection and forgiveness.

“If I can’t save you, I can’t save the world.” Gohan’s words were always rational. Logical. Still, in his emotional state, Trunks resisted the idea. “If I can’t protect you, what’s left to protect?”

Trunks couldn’t find the words to argue against Gohan’s reasoning. So he said nothing.

Gohan ducked his head in, meeting Trunks at eye level. He was patient, waiting for Trunks to look at him, to cheer up or to say something. Trunks reluctantly looked back, still feeling an unease in his chest. He trusted Gohan. He trusted Gohan’s judgment. But Trunks couldn’t bring himself to understand the level of faith Gohan had in him. For all Gohan’s wisdom, the expectations that he had for Trunks, the potential that he saw in him for their fight against the Androids—none of it made any sense to Trunks.

“Kiss me,” Trunks demanded.

There was a flicker of surprise in Gohan’s expression—but then it mellowed, his eyes almost soft.

Gohan kissed him—and it was where their lips met where Trunks felt warmest.



Spring.



The same as it had the day of Gohan’s death, the same as it had when Trunks became a super saiyan, it was raining. The ground was soft underneath Trunks’ boots, the grass wet, and the sky was dimmed with clouds. That spring had been riddled with heavy rains and storms. Today, the rain was light and misty, and it felt cleansing on Trunks’ skin.

Bulma didn’t know that Trunks was visiting the mountain. After what happened to Gohan, Trunks sensed her fears, and though she never tried to stop him from training, he didn’t want to scare her. He told her he was going to be out in the city. Whether she bought the lie or not, that was the story he went with.

Trunks told himself he was never going to stand on that peak until after he had defeated the androids. Yet, there he was.

He stared down the grave marker where Gohan was laid. Trunks felt a twist in his chest, the scar still fresh. He forced his chin up, staring over the mountains and valleys.

This is where Gohan’s journey began. And ended.

For Trunks, this was also a place of many firsts. His first training place. His first kiss. His first love. His first shooting star. True to Gohan’s promise, it was the place that he handed down to Trunks. It was a place where Trunks could train, could relax, could remember.

As for how Trunks’ journey would end, he was not sure, but for that moment, he decided to stay on the mountain a little longer.