Welcome to DBZ Saiyan Garden

thoughts
.+++. Time/scene skip


*****

“Mr. Briefs…” A low voice rumbled as a wooden rod slapped in Gohan’s palm. “I appreciate that you are attending my lecture but perhaps it would be best if you and your friend carried on your conversation outside.”

A lavender-haired man glanced up from his spot in the lecture hall and glared at Gohan.

“Now would be a prompt time. I have another hundred other students to teach, and I’m certain they would appreciate that I continue on. Unlike some people they wouldn't want their hard-earned money to go to waste.” Gohan continued as he brought the pointing stick down on his hand again.

Curses escaped the heir of the Capsule Corporation,as well as the Saiyajin throne, but nobody except the student and professor knew that, as he gathered his stuff and stormed out of the classroom with the friend he was talking to.

A few hours later brought a quick rapping on his door. Gohan didn’t need to ask who it was and he sighed before pushing up his glasses. “Come in, Trunks.”

“Oh, so you use my first name now, huh?” The young man said as he glared at his professor. “You just had to announce my last name in class, didn’t you? Now this is going to be the talk of the school for ages! ‘The young Capsule Corporation heir kicked out of class for talking! Is it okay to trust the multi-billion-zeni corporation with somebody so irresponsible?’”

“Well, using your first name implies a closer relationship so I couldn't use that. What did you expect me to say, young man with the pink-purple hair? I don’t think you would have appreciated that Trunks.” Gohan said as he walked over and closed the door. It locked automatically with a click.

“I-It’s not pink!” Trunks protested with an even more heated glare. “And for all you know I could have been asking for help!”

Gohan sighed and ran a hand through his spiky black hair. “Man, last night’s party was awesome, wasn't it? When’s the next one– Need I continue? You forget that I, too, am part Saiyajin and have a stronger sense of hearing.”

“Really, Gohan? Is that all you come up with? That’s a cliched line on a Monday!”

“How about: You see that dude in the fron–” The smoldering look in Trunks’s blue eyes made Gohan stop. “Don’t worry Trunks, I’m not going to spill your secret to anybody. Besides, you’re the one who brought this on yourself. Maybe if you bothered to take notes on what I was saying instead of gossiping and bragging to your friends, you wouldn't be here, now would you?”

“Seriously! What’s it to you? I talked in class and I didn’t pay attention, if I fail, it’s my problem.”

“I swear, your selfishness is worse than both of your parents! Do you not understand that those around you are distracted by your blatantly sexual comments and your little gossip-buddy also isn't paying attention because you’re talking to them? The world doesn't revolve around you, however important you are!”

Trunks gave him a smirk and sat on Gohan’s desk. “Oh really? I think I recall a time where everybody thought you dead and your little brother and I were the last hope of the world, no the universe.”

Gohan knew the look Trunks was giving him, it was that I’m better than thou look that often made its appearance on Vegeta’s face. Instead of picking up the bait, Gohan stood at his door with his arms crossed. “I never remember your future self – the last fighter of Earth – being this self-pompous. A post-apocalyptic world does you good.”

“Well, word has it that you prevented that, prof, and now you’re stuck with me. Too bad huh?” Trunks said as he crossed his legs, looking completely relaxed on Gohan’s desk.

Gohan pushed up his sliding glasses again. “Now, is there anything else you wish to address, Trunks? I do have to mark your assignment today.”

The Prince smirked as he hopped off of Gohan’s desk and sauntered over to the black-haired demi, a sway in his step. Once he reached his professor who had the door open, Trunks slammed a hand on the door and closed it as it clicked once again. His other hand was on his hip. “You know, you have quite the lip yourself. How do I know you won’t blackmail me into behaving with the new information you've gathered on me hmm?” The hand that had settled on the cocked hip moved to twirl itself in Gohan’s black tie, crinkling the ironed fabric in his grasp. “But, then again, I think I might have a hefty pile of dirt on you, Gohan.”

Gohan glanced down at his brother’s best friend as neutral as he could with warm breath caressing his neck. “What use would blackmail have for me?”

“I don’t know.” Trunks glanced up into Gohan’s eyes before turning back to the exposed neck. “Maybe to get me to shut up and pay attention in your class? Or perhaps…” Gohan couldn't suppress the shiver as Trunks ran his tongue over his neck. “To get something you want.”

The Son could feel lips smirking against his skin. Why did they have to smell the same? “Trunks!” He protested and his hands lifted to push the body away but stopped once the skin of his neck was clamped between Trunks’s teeth. Gohan bit his lip to stop any further reactions.

A dark chuckle escaped Trunks’s chest. “What is that you want, hmm? Do you want me to be well-behaved, polite, cautious, and obedient?” Teeth bit down to draw blood and a gasp from Gohan. “Just like my future self?”

An even louder gasp was quickly muffled and changed into a deep-set scowl with a dark glare.

The lavender-haired prince smirked. “Oh, don’t go denying it. I notice your expression when you talk about him and I can see how you look at me, only to frown once I act out of character of your fantasy.” Trunks pulled Gohan closer with his tie and he leaned up to whisper in his best friend’s brother’s ear. “How about we play a little game of pretend, hmm? I’ll be the polite person you always wanted… It’s not as if his body is any different then mine anyway.”

Gohan stood up straight with shock in his black eyes and he shoved Trunks away. The other man, however, continued to hold onto the tie bound to Gohan’s neck and with little effort he had pulled the other man on top of him and towards the immaculately clean desk. No papers, pens, or electronics flew around at their rough landing since there were none to begin with.

Trunks took his opportunity and pulled Gohan down with the tie for a rough kiss. Using his free hand, Trunks tangled it into Gohan’s hair, keeping him there with push and pull. When Gohan’s lips slowly started to respond, Trunks whispered. “Now, now… I think we've got it backwards. If we’re going to play pretend, I’d be older than you, would I not?” The lavender-haired man pulled away from the kiss, teasing the other’s lips with his tongue.

Gohan glared down at Trunks half-heartedly. On one hand, he wanted to kick Trunks out of his office, yet on the other…

Trunks flipped them around so that he was on top of Gohan and still he held the tie.

“I’ll be your Trunks…” The words were a bare whisper and opened the door to fantasy.

Kami they smelled the same…

“So,” Trunks’ lips were caressing the shell of his ear, “what do you say, Gohan?”

And they were around the same age… Gohan shuddered and arced his body against Trunks in silent agreement.

“Gohan…” Trunks said and the tone of his voice did wonders on Gohan. It was calm, it was composed… so unlike Trunks yet so like him. “Are you sure about this?”

Although Gohan knew that Trunks was mocking him, it was so much easier, so much more enjoyable to just fall into the land of fantasy that was being carved out for him. Meekly, Gohan nodded.

“Okay… I just don’t want to hurt you.” Trunks said as he caressed Gohan’s cheek before leaning in for a gentle kiss.

Gohan didn’t want to close his eyes, he didn’t want to blink. Here he was, in a living dream, and Gohan would do anything to continue. The man above him was not the bratty best friend of his younger brother, but the man that Gohan idolized as a child, the one who saved his father and his friends. It was the second man whom he had seen as Super Saiyajin. There was no cocky smirk, just a soft, loving expression, and Gohan couldn’t get enough of it.

“Trunks…” Gohan whispered against the lips and allowed Trunks’s tongue in. He let the hand that wasn't holding his tie glide down his body. He permitted the soft caresses that Trunks’s fingers were doing against his clothed skin. He accepted the unbuttoning of his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful…”

Gohan was already too far gone in his illusion to read the truth behind those words. His body arced to Trunks’s touch. It wasn't hard to lose himself in the fantasy, since Trunks looked the same, felt the same (callused, lean, and strong fingers, firm abs, built body….) sounded the same, and even smelled the same.

Trunks's lips moved from Gohan’s and they trailed down the body with butterfly kisses. His hand caressed Gohan’s ass, pulling hips closer together. Gohan bit his bottom lip, not too far gone to realize where they were.

Lips moved back up to kiss the abused lip. “You need to take care of your body Gohan… I won’t be able to admire its full glory otherwise.” Trunks said softly and Gohan’s tie twisted and twirled around his hand before moving that hand to cup his cheek and caress the bitten, bruising, bottom lip. “Hmm…” Trunks glanced around before looking at the fabric in his hand and loosened the tie. “Bite on this.” He said and placed the fabric in Gohan’s mouth.

Trunks… Trunks didn’t want him to ruin his body, he didn’t want Gohan to tarnish what he thought was beautiful. So, Gohan opened his mouth as he allowed the collar of his tie into it. There, both of Trunks’s hands were free and they roamed his body. Soon, his shirt was completely removed but it was kindly placed over a chair so that it would not wrinkle. The fingers caressed Gohan’s every crevice, every scar, every bump. At first, the movements were slow but they began to speed up. With each gasp, each moan, Gohan bit down into the cloth of his tie and tried to silence them. Although his office was a bit out of the way, it was not isolated. Other professors of the university could be just beyond the walls.

“Your body is so sensitive…”

Trunks continued to revel in his body and that was just fine with Gohan. It was something that the Son desired. If Trunks wanted his body, it was fine, because Gohan was sure that he wanted Trunks even more so. If only he could voice his opinions… his feelings… but they were not in the privacy of a bedroom.

The buckle of Gohan’s pants was removed but before Trunks could continue, Gohan stopped him as he let his hands wander over Trunks’s body. He wanted to see the light tan skin uninterrupted by clothes, he wanted to feel it. Trunks, Trunks, and Trunks. It was all Gohan could think about and he wanted to know his savior.

Trunks smiled as he pulled out his tucked in dress-shirt, letting Gohan unbutton it from the bottom while the lavender-haired heir started at the top after loosening his own tie. Their hands met as they reached for the last button but Trunks allowed Gohan the pleasure of removing it. Both shirt and tie joined Gohan’s shirt neatly on the chair.

Gohan’s eyes wandered over the built torso and coiled muscles. Then, his hands wandered the path that his eyes took and Gohan wanted to taste the skin below his fingertips, the muscles twitching at his touch, yet he could not. Sounds were something they had to be wary of and Gohan cursed it.

Trunks’s hands moved to hold Gohan’s and brought both pairs down to the remaining belt buckle holding the Prince’s pants up. Then, Trunks moved his own hands to continue the removal of Gohan’s pants that had been interrupted earlier. He was slow, patient, and ensured that the clothes did not look messy. They still have things to do, places to be after all of this.

And once they were both fully undressed did Gohan let a shudder pass through him. Kami… Trunks…

“Gohan…” The Prince’s voice was filled with the same emotion he held – lust.

A hand traced along the half-hardened length and Gohan let another shiver pass through him. How long? How long has he wanted that hand doing that? How long has he imagined? Waited? Yet it all seemed worth it in the end and his hips tilted towards the teasing hand. He wanted more. As he moaned, he remembered to keep quiet and bit down on his tie. Yet, he still needed to show Trunks his desire, his pleasure. His hands moved to capture the lavender-haired prince’s face and their heated gazes met. Gohan’s smoldering black met with fiery blue and they held firm as Trunks resumed his attentions to Gohan’s member, stroking it to full attention.

Gohan wanted to watch Trunks climb that ladder of passion, witness Trunks at that purest, highest moment, and observe Trunks as he rode down into that aftermath. Everything about his savior – his friend from the future – was alluring, like a drug and he couldn't get enough of him.

Trunks’s hands wandered to knead at his ass. “Mmm…” He said before breaking their blazing gaze and caressed the shell of Gohan’s ear with his lips. “You’re so tense Gohan… do you want me to remedy that?” His voice was seductive and impassioned, yet steady and calm.

Gohan shuddered and nodded. He needed this, wanted this. For Trunks to take him, to make him submit and so much more.

“Not just yet Gohan, turn around please. I’ll ease those muscles, loosen you up.”

And, without taking a second to think about it, Gohan turned. Then, Trunks’s lean, talented fingers found the back of his neck and moved. They eased the tension, the knots, the locks. They moved lower, pushing deeper, and yet, Gohan could feel the royal, hardened length against him, moving with Trunks’s body as he massaged Gohan’s mid-back and the black-haired demi would be lying if he wasn't turned on by it. His groans, his sighs, his moans were all held in, blocked as he bit down on the fabric of his tie.

Once Trunks got to the gluteal muscles, Gohan’s hips pressed back.

“I know, I know.” Trunks said soothingly into his ear. “But we need you to loosen up, to be prepared. I don’t want to hurt you Gohan.”

Yet, having Trunks’s fingers so near his entrance was having quite the opposite effect. Anticipation filled him and he shuddered. The Prince chuckled lightly and a hand wandered to stroke Gohan’s erection slowly and released some of the pressure. A pair of lips kissed their way down from his ear before the hand still massaging was lifted away. Trunks still stroked him, slowly, sensually but only enough to distract him. Then, a wet finger found his pucker and circled it, causing more shivers of pleasure to race down Gohan’s body. The finger entered, stretching, exploring. It didn’t quite feel uncomfortable yet neither comfortable, just unusual. The other hand, though, distracted him from that as it continued its leisurely pace along his length. Next, the second finger entered and it tipped the balance, now entering discomfort – but not a bad one. Here, Trunks’s tongue distracted Gohan as it slid up his spine. However, with a slight push, the Son saw stars.

Almost, almost, did he forget to clamp down on the poor fabric, but at the last second, just before the sounds of pleasure escaped his throat, his teeth clenched, his lips attempting to close. Instinctively, Gohan’s lower body pushed back, craving the sensational overload, damned or not if it’d released another moan. He didn’t even notice the missing hand around his member but all that he wanted now was that pleasure once again.

“Patience, Gohan, it gets better, I’ll give you more.” Trunks said as his composure began to slip.

Gohan shuddered at the mere thought of his savior's control all but gone.

Trunks’s fingers delved deeper, stretched further, wandered about and allowed the unused muscles to awaken, to heat up, to prevent tearing, yet he ignored – avoided – that bundle of nerves. Even with the third finger, stretching this way and that. Yet, it still left Gohan hot, it left him needy. He had tasted that forbidden fruit, the one that was overripe and left on the tree for too long. It left an aftertaste, a craving, and Gohan wanted more.

His whine was muffled through the fabric as the fingers left him and it reminded him that they had to be silent.

“You can turn around.” Trunks’s voice was husky, low, hot with unbridled lust, and as Gohan turned he was greeted with a matching expression. Trunks had lost all control, all restraint, and it went straight for the dark-haired demi’s cock.

Fuck he’s hot.

Then, the Prince smirked, enjoying what he saw before he spread Gohan’s legs, pulling them to his shoulders as he positioned himself between his thighs. “Just bear with it.”

Those words made Gohan dizzy with lust. They were twisted with control and desire, some odd, magical mixture in between. He then bit down on the collar of his tie and his eyes slit in mock pleasure and pain as the other entered him. Yet, yet Gohan still watched, he watched the other’s expression as he was slowly filled, watched as restraint pulled against instinctual lust.

How Gohan wanted to break that harness.

Their eyes met again – smoldering coal and blue fire meeting at the deepest pits of a flame.

A moment stood still before the silent conversation finished.

Go.

The first thrusts were slow, experimental and acclimatization, and once Gohan pushed back, things solidified. Speed picked up, strength increased, experiments turned into results and Gohan was fighting the screams of pleasure. Again, again, and again, was his sweet spot hit, the nerves screaming their own silent forms of pleasure. Gohan began to feel loose threads in his mouth but he never took note of it. He just bit down and swallowed the impassioned sounds, still keeping watch on his beloved’s face, watching as rapture took control, watching as he held sounds back, watching as his climax neared.

A hand took his solid length and moved it in tune with their thrusts. It caused Gohan to bite down harder, loosing more strands of fabric but it wasn't as if he noticed any of that at all.

“Nnn!” The muffled sound escaped his lavender-haired hero.

Further, further, just a bit more!

Trunks slammed their hips and lips together as they screamed and exploded together.

Then the Prince slumped, heaving. A moment passed before a stray lock of hair was brushed from Gohan’s face. “Gohan… I…” The voice was pure, it was light, and as Gohan met the blue eyes he was greeted with softness that reminded him of the sky. But then, a plug, a clog, and Trunks froze, exiting Gohan.

And Gohan’s body iced over as well as his illusion faded. The black depths of his eyes became hard obsidian and his fist met Trunks’s cheek.

Gohan thought he saw pain in Trunks’s face, but it flashed so quickly that it, too, was probably an illusion. For the lips curled into that signature royal smirk.

The words didn’t even have to be spoken, they both knew what the other was thinking.

Trunks grabbed his own clothes but had enough decency,or perhaps it was pride, to toss Gohan his. There was no care for neatness. The Son grabbed them quickly, his honed reactions responding immediately to the flying clothes and put them on.

Without another word, Trunks left, the door locking behind him with a click.

And Gohan, all he could do was glare at the door that his student left from.

Hefty fucking pile indeed.