Welcome to DBZ Saiyan Garden

“Trunks! Mirai! Get back here right now you lazy prats!”

Bulma Briefs’ strident command was studiously disobeyed by both demi-Saiyans as they charged up the stairs. Following the sound of thudding footsteps, the blue-haired genius stalked them, a sheaf of business papers clutched in one hand and a look of thunder on her face.

“You can’t duck accounting duties forever you know! Your grandfather and I have both done more than our fair share, you ungrateful brats!”

Lavender hair, both short and long, whipped through the air as the two rounded a corner and pelted down a hall. For a human, Bulma was doing an incredible job of staying on their tails as they randomly navigated the labyrinthine corridors of Capsule Corp headquarters to dodge the most boring task in the entire corporation. No matter that what their mother said was true, that she and her father had taken care of the majority of the work, neither princeling would do accounting work unless they were forced. And Vegeta was off training today so there was nobody to help Bulma in her vain quest to get the heirs apparent of Capsule Corp to fulfil their duties.

“You’re only making it worse for yourselves! When I find you boys you’ll wish you’d never been born!”

“And she thinks that’s going to make us stop?” the younger demi muttered to his future counterpart. Mirai grinned as they sprinted down a wide staircase. But half a dozen steps later, the two Saiyans froze when Bulma appeared out a side door, right under the stairs they were walking on.

Before she could see them, Mirai grabbed his younger self by the collar and dragged him back up to the landing, bundling the fifteen-year-old before him along the hall. It was the hardest task of his life to do this silently, but somehow he managed it. When he looked back, Bulma was disappearing through another door having missed them completely.

The blue-haired co-president of Capsule Corporation had been hassling both her sons to follow in her footsteps ever since nineteen-year-old Mirai had returned to the past. Virtually as soon as the shaken and battered time traveller had crawled out of the crashed machine, she’d partnered him with her other son so one day they could both head the company after her retirement. No matter that neither demi-Saiyan actually wanted to follow in her footsteps – as far as Bulma the businesswoman was concerned, the two teenagers existed solely to increase Capsule Corp’s already formidable grip on every market imaginable.

Mirai was more interested in photography. He’d brought a folio with him to the past timeline, comprising heart-rending shots of ruined buildings, or abandoned toys, or anything that expressed the destruction and painful atmosphere of his world. Every photo was achingly, beautifully sad and nobody could fail to be impressed by the teenager’s obvious talent. His focus since coming to the past had altered, to works concentrating on the peace and happiness of this world compared to his own, but they still maintained that quality and expression that made him an artist.

His younger self, meanwhile, enjoyed nothing more than sparring. Nearly all his fifteen years he’d been training with anybody who could stand against him. He’d slowly been encouraging Mirai to find enjoyment in something that had been a necessity for so long, helping the other boy to see the lighter side of martial arts, that it could be a bit of fun rather than just a means to destruction. In doing so, Trunks had also managed to go some way towards getting Mirai to open up and let his real personality show through.

The two demi-Saiyans had been firm friends ever since they’d met; they were alike and different each interesting and appealing to the other. The two people raised in alternate universes swiftly found a common bond resulting from the many ways they were varied and similar. Hell, they even fancied the same guy – Gohan Son. Evidently there were some things a twist in time couldn’t change.

Mirai had barely breathed a sigh of relief at their escape from the she-devil before Trunks grabbed his jacket and dragged him to the guest bedroom. “Come on, we gotta lay low for a while,” he muttered. Still holding onto the front of Mirai’s top, he fumbled to open the door and pulled the other teenager through after him to hide in the rarely-visited room. But a broom had fallen directly across his path, and before you could say “stupid monkeys” it had caught Trunks quite neatly underfoot and robbed him of any pretence of grace and coordination. As he fell backwards, he threw an arm around Mirai’s neck while clinging desperately to the other boy’s top, but none of his efforts prevailed. Trunks landed on the floor with a loud “oof” and Mirai on top of him.

“‘Lie low’, huh?” muttered the older demi. The boy underneath him tried to protest, but he had been winded by the heavy form landing ungracefully on his, and couldn’t speak a word.

Mirai chuckled and lifted his head to meet Trunks’ gaze, an amused glint in his azure eyes that abruptly made the younger boy’s stomach give a funny twist. He found himself staring unrestrainedly into the lapis lazuli orbs so strangely different to his own, a compelling magnetism in the other boy’s eyes that suddenly fascinated him. The pair of enigmatic sapphires were slightly clouded by confusion now as Trunks gazed at him longer and longer. He felt captivated by the power wielded by such intense clue, like he could swim in them forever, drowning but more alive than ever…

The object of the younger demi-Saiyan’s enraptured attention abruptly became very aware of Trunks’ arm around his neck. As he was slowly, not entirely unwillingly absorbed by the fascinated gaze with which the other teen’s eyes held his own, the arm weighed down on his neck, gradually bringing his face closer to Trunks’. Cornflower-blue orbs seemed to kindle as they feasted on his own, cerulean light illuminating the depths of cobalt in the younger boy’s eyes. Mirai felt a warmth stirring somewhere in the middle of his chest as Trunks held his eyes, their strange closeness sparking a feeling he was unfamiliar with but somehow incredibly comfortable with. And still his head dropped lower.

A thin sheet of lavender silk was forming a curtain around Mirai’s face, placing the sheerest veil around the two of them to seemingly enclose both in a world of their own. The lilac fall of hair, paler than Trunks’ own mid-purple strands, gently brushed the side of the younger boy’s face as the heavy weight at the back of Mirai’s neck continued to apply pressure down, drawing them ever closer together. A hand crept up from clutching at his shirt front to lightly trace the edge of the older demi’s jaw, and Mirai felt the smallest of shivers run through his body at the touch like static electricity, a silent purr thrumming in his veins. Smooth fingers ghosted over his scarred shin, adoring the tanned satin and tracing delicately over ever battle-won line to the lips that parted ever-so-invitingly at his touch. Their faces were so close together that Trunks could feel the other’s intake of breath even though it was so quiet he couldn’t hear it.

He closed his eyes in bliss as Mirai’s mouth met his. A flood of warmth coursed through his body, settling at his loins and sending sparks from there to every fibre in his being, an elation that melted his soul. Mutely begging, his mouth opened of its own accord to admit a warm tongue that caressed his own lovingly. A delicious haze of pleasure slowly reached out tender coils to fog his mind and body, a blissful thrum resonated throughout his every nerve that delighted and revelled in the sensation. He could visualise the golden mist that fogged his entire reality as the two mouths merged, each exploring the other with insatiable curiosity, each determined to ravage the other completely.

More…

Mirai raised himself onto one elbow, azure eyes squeezed shut to better absorb the taste, the texture of the kiss. His free hand drifted down, trailing a line of heat along Trunks’ chest and over the toned stomach, undoing buttons all the way, each little sliding sound making the younger boy shiver in anticipation as his torso was exposed. There was the sound of a zip being undone and Mirai found that his hand, obeying unconscious thought, had slipped inside Trunks’ pants and was stroking the half-hard erection to full.

A gorgeous moan issued from the darker-haired Saiyan’s mouth and he arched his back, pressing his body against Mirai’s and meeting crushing pressure in return. He pushed his hips forward, thrusting into the older teenager’s hand as it continued to pleasure him with maddeningly slow strokes that sent waves of intense heat pulsing through his body.

It happened in a heartbeat: in the middle of everything, Trunks’ sixth sense gave off a tiny but persistent alarm and he froze. A creeping sensation crawled over his skin as he tilted his head back and to the side, to find a pair of obsidian eyes fastened on his own.

“Uh … Gohan…”

The look of shock on Mirai’s face was almost comic as his head snapped up to look at the charcoal-haired Son sitting cross-legged on the bed a few yards away.

Gohan blinked, eyes as dark as his hair wide with stunned amazement. He didn’t move a muscle, simply staring in silence at the two demi-Saiyans who’d barged in uninvited and proceeded to make out right in front of him in a way that hinted that the only thing stopping them from going further, even all the way, was his presence.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.”

“…” The pair of purple-haired teenagers gaped at the mild statement that left Gohan’s lips so innocuously.

They were even further surprised, to the point of immobility, when the man both had fancied for time out of mind quietly got up, crossed the room, and shut the door they had negligently left open. The snick of the lock sliding home seemed over-loud in the charged silence.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Gohan, with deliberate slowness, undid the top button of his silken navy shirt. His hand paused tantalisingly over the next small circle of deepest blue and his voice, when he spoke, expressed about fifty different levels of suggestiveness.

“By all means, continue.”

Two pairs of cornflower-blue eyes stared at him as thoughts exploded into their owners’ heads and two delicious mouths dropped open.

“Do you need further explanation?” Gohan asked.

With a shake of his head, Trunks latched onto Mirai’s mouth once more. Immediately the spell the older boy wove washed through him anew, the utter enchantment his alternate self could wield over him sparking infernos through his body. He bucked his hips, prompting the skilled hand loosely gripping his shaft to resume the delightful actions it had been engaged in before. Within moments he could feel an answering hardness against his thigh and rubbed his leg against it to wrench an ecstatic groan from the boy above him.

“I want you to undress each other.”

Only then did Mirai remember that Gohan was there, watching them. He turned to look at the oldest demi-Saiyan in the exact moment that the navy blue barrier of silk was removed. Muscles rippled across Gohan’s toned chest under pale, creamy skin and for a long moment Mirai could only stare in silent awe, in mute adoration, at the gorgeous figure commanding him.

Then a pair of hands was attacking his belt and the lilac-haired half-human returned his attention to the boy beneath him. Trunks was removing the leather that held his pants up at the same time as shooting glances at the darker demi, who watched all with onyx eyes that glittered like diamonds catching the light. The same look of longing and adoration was on the younger boy’s face as Mirai knew was on his own, both teens directing that expression to their other half as well as to the one observing.

His throat suddenly too tight to swallow, Mirai hastily reciprocated the treatment Trunks was giving him and pulled of the younger boy’s shirt, slowly, suggestively retracing with his hands the path the top had taken to expose the flawless skin beneath. He pinched one nipple, rubbing around the dark nub and flicking the swiftly hardening point with his thumb. Trunks gasped, a beautiful flush creeping over his cheeks as Mirai bent down and pressed his lips to the same place, his tongue lightly touching the heated skin. “Ohh god…” the teenager moaned. He raised himself on his elbows to push his chest against the hot mouth that seemed determined to devour him.

Swifter now Mirai fumbled to get those frustrating clothes off the younger demi, stripping him efficiently as Trunks moaned and writhed in response to his ministrations. Soon the boy’s boxers were removed and Mirai winked at Gohan, throwing the satin shorts to him. Gohan by now was wearing nothing more than his own boxers and the teen from the future immediately felt his mouth watering.

With that incentive adding to the appeal of the fifteen-year-old beneath him, Mirai began to lick and suck in a trail down the middle of Trunks’ chest, laving the smooth skin with his tongue and lips. His mouth travelled over his stomach to pause at the throbbing arousal and he licked his lips. Trunks’ eyes were closed in delight, but Mirai’s gaze never once left Gohan’s as he slid the pulsing length into his mouth. The sound of the younger prince crying out his name made Mirai’s own arousal intensify, a burning heat expanding in his groin as he sucked on Trunks’ shaft before deep-throating and working every inch of skin with his tongue.

Lapis lazuli held obsidian in a grip neither wanted to escape as Mirai’s hand dropped lower to massage the sack underneath that wrung hoarse moans from the pleasured teenager. Gohan’s own mouth was watering as he watched one of his crushes sucking the other off and he removed his boxers as a reward for such excellent behaviour from his pets.

Trunks’ eyes opened at that moment, and the first thing he saw was an entirely naked Gohan pleasuring himself. With a cry he emptied himself into the other teenager’s mouth, gasping for breath as a storm of ecstasy tore through his body.

“Mirai!!”

He lay still, trying desperately to catch his breath as the older boy knelt above him and removed the last of his own clothes. With a surge of strength Trunks sat up and claimed Mirai’s mouth in a kiss, tasting the bitter flavour of his own essence but disregarding it as he engaged the other’s tongue in a fierce battle for dominance. He pressed their bodies together as he thanked the older boy for what he’d just done for him.

After a moment Trunks broke the kiss and grinned at his other self. “Beats accounting duty, ne?”

The peal of laughter that emanated from the older demi’s throat was infectious, making both the others smile even though Gohan didn’t understand. “What was that about?” he asked curiously.

Mirai shook his head. “An inside joke.”

Gohan’s eyes glinted. “Yes, inside is good, isn’t it,” he drawled suggestively, and gestured for the other two half-Saiyans to approach him. They stood before him as he sat on the edge of the bed, one sated, one nowhere near so. The Son’s dark eyes raked Mirai’s tense form, lingering on the unsatisfied shaft. An evil smirk twisted his lips and suddenly Gohan the Hentai was in control.

He stood up and went to his desk, producing a short wooden ruler. Studying Mirai and Trunks through intense onyx eyes, he brought the length of wood down on his palm with a resounding crack that made both teens wince.

Slowly, Gohan walked to stand in front of Mirai, looking down at the pale-haired boy with such an intensely sexual look that the object of his attention leaned forward to kiss him almost unconsciously. But he was stopped by a finger to his lips and lilac brows furrowed in confusion. Without a word Gohan bent Mirai over so his hands were braced on the edge of the bed, running an admiring palm over the smooth curves displayed to their fullest. Then the ruler connected.

The cry that forced itself from Mirai’s throat and the blush that swiftly coloured the struck cheeks made both watching demi-Saiyans purr. Trunks leaned down to run his tongue over the abused flesh before a hand under his chin and powerful obsidian orbs demoted him to slave once again.

“Kneel,” Gohan commanded, pointing to the space at Mirai’s feet in front of the bed. Trunks was swift to obey, settling in his designated place before looking up at his new-found master for further instructions.

They were simple enough.

“Suck.”

Easier done than said.

Even as he attacked Mirai’s dripping erection with an inexperienced but eager mouth, Trunks heard again the swish and crack of the ruler connecting with the older boy’s rear. Mirai groaned, his knees giving way just a bit at the blow, caught sadistically between the pleasure of being given head and the pain on his abused rear.

He never would have picked Gohan for the dominative type. The quiet, shy scholar everyone else saw the eldest demi-Saiyan as bore no resemblance to the powerful sex god whipping him with a sixteen-inch ruler. He had the delightful thought that he and his younger self were the first to see this side of Gohan, feeling a smirk creeping onto his lips even when the length of wood connected with his rear again. Between the sting in the flesh Gohan was abusing and the incredible heat of Trunks’ mouth around his length, Mirai rather thought that he would go insane.

But before that could happen he peaked with a powerful shudder than ran all the way through his body and forced his hips to thrust forward, shooting his seed deep into Trunks’ waiting mouth. Through the searing buzz of pleasure he could feel the touch of damp warmth on his rear as Gohan comforted the abused flesh with his tongue and lips. The fallout from his climax lasted longer than it should have, Trunks’ continual sucking and Gohan’s attentive mouth prolonging the slow spin of fading ecstasy for minutes that dragged on, and on.

More…

Trunks had stood up, and was holding Mirai captive again with those shimmering sapphire orbs that changed shade seemingly with their owner’s mood. They were clear sea-blue now, a colour that spoke to Mirai’s soul as deeply as Gohan’s own charcoal. It made the older teen wonder how he’d been so blind for so long as to ignore how much he was attracted to the younger demi-Saiyan, to think that they could forever maintain a platonic friendship when they wanted, craved, yearned for one another so completely. Ah, innocence…

Gohan reappeared behind him before Mirai was even aware that he’d left. He was so intrigued by his younger self that he didn’t notice his lifelong love’s presence until an arm reached around and ran a warm, wet hand over his dormant member.

If ignorance was bliss, then this took the word to a new level. Gohan sure new how to get his attention – a bottle of lube and a single deft stroke, and Mirai was as hard as if he hadn’t just cum only a moment ago. A sound somewhere between a purr and a growl came from his throat and Trunks pressed his lips to the source of it to feel the vibrations through the other boy’s tanned skin. A buzz met his lips that fascinated him like a kitted with a ball of wool and he caressed Mirai’s throat with his lips, absorbing the sensation, until he was distracted.

Gohan was talking to Mirai in a husky, teasing voice that made hairs stand on the back of Trunks’ neck. “I think your ass has taken enough punishment for now,” he murmured in the time traveller’s ear. The youngest demi heard every word. “So you get to fill.”

Trunks had the funny feeling that this meant he was shortly going to be on the receiving end of a good hard fuck, and the prospect made his blood boil. To sleep with Gohan … to share the sexy dark-featured Saiyan with the only person who cared for him as much as he did … what a trip. Trunks and Mirai had had endless conversations about their mutual attraction for the elder Son, during which they’d affirmed beyond the shadow of a doubt that they loved him equally. Now that his dream was coming true, Trunks couldn’t even gripe that he wasn’t going to be seme over anyone. That could wait til next time.

His guess was confirmed when Gohan, in control as always, pushed him onto his back on the bed and for the second time in what seemed to him like only a few moments Trunks found himself lying under a gorgeous demi-Saiyan. Two deliciously wet fingers were being pushed inside him even as Gohan spread his legs so he could settled between them. The fifteen-year-old felt incredibly vulnerable, but trust was stronger than fear and he relaxed to accept a third finger.

As Gohan was stretched, Mirai gently preparing the taut muscles at his entrance for the encounter to follow, he dropped his head to capture Trunks’ mouth. Gods, he’d waited for this for so long … He ravished the younger Saiyan orally, examining every inch of the enthusiastic mouth meticulously while pushing back onto the slick digits inside him and working Trunks with his own lube-treated fingers.

Eventually Gohan’s impatience shattered the barrier of his resolve. He withdrew his hand from its burial between Trunks’ legs and grasped the slender hips. A last kiss was given to the submissive prince before he pushed in.

Searing heat clamped onto his shaft, exerting pressure that threatened to make Gohan spill right then. But even as he pressed further and felt like he was going to pass out, his own entrance was invaded by something much thicker than three fingers and he winced. By Hades, he’d forgotten how much it stung going uke. Mirai’s gasped apologies were barely registered as beads of sweat trailed saline paths down Gohan’s forehead. He understood the ambivalence he’d forced on Mirai earlier – the pain of being filled and the pleasure of sheathing himself in another body combined and merged, into a sensation so erotic he thought he would pass out or cum or both.

When an impatient Mirai began to pull out of him, Gohan’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’ as the slick length rubbed against his inner walls in a friction exactly midway between agony and ecstasy. He in turn released the fifteen-year-old beneath him, enjoying Trunks’ tortured writhing as his senses were assaulted by the two feelings.

Then Mirai slammed back into Gohan almost brutally and the chain reaction this action produced was like dominoes … only with rather different sounds. The two demi-Saiyans from the present time made enough noise for two people each, easily, and Mirai wasn’t quite silent himself. The harsh rhythm set by the teenager from the future wrung an astounding variety and quantity of gasps, moans and oaths from the males beneath him, testaments to his skill that flattered him immensely. He poured every drop of his passion into riding Gohan as thoroughly as he could, revelling in the sweat dripping off both other Saiyans and the lustful glaze in the eyes of his younger self.

Locking gazes with Trunks, Mirai reached around to take the other teenager’s erection in one hand. There was no slow teasing this time; the older demi swirled his thumb once around the head before working him at a pace to match his own thrusts. Trunks immediately regressed to a kind of helpless, delicious mewling that ran wildfire through Mirai’s veins. He couldn’t have escaped from the younger boy’s steely cobalt gaze if he tried, lost in the beauty of rouge lips and flushed cheeks, of furrowed brows and skin sheen with sweat.

The same spell had been woven over Gohan and he was robbed of breath by the sight of the gorgeous prince beneath. *I’ve always wanted to see Trunks’ face like that…* He stole the younger boy’s attention with a kiss so passionate it was almost harsh, a hand sliding down over sweat-soaked skin to link fingers with Mirai so they were working him together. An eager mouth fastened on Gohan’s neck from behind and tongue, lips and teeth became engaged in a mission to brand the eldest Son as his own. “Ohhh god … Trunks, Mirai…” A particularly deep thrust made Gohan and Trunks break their kiss to enable each to moan their lovers’ names, the older, deeper voice blending with the younger, softer one in a melody incomparably beautiful to Mirai’s ears.

“Faster,” gasped Trunks, his voice ragged with lust. “Harder, Mirai, I can’t wait any more!”

“I’m filling you next time,” growled the time traveller in response. “Then, koi, I’ll teach you patience.” He smirked evilly, bringing his hips back and gathering his energy.

“You sadist, Mirai,” grinned Gohan, imitating the dominant demi-Saiyan’s actions.

“You have no idea…”

Mirai’s voice trembled with need and he paused only a moment before plunging. The strength of his final thrust, in perfect synchrony with Gohan’s invasion of Trunks, sent all three over the edge in the same moment, a cacophony of utmost bliss wrapping thorned tendrils round the trio to drag them into oblivion. Trunks wrapped his legs around the other two in a vice-grip, almost sobbing as he cried out their names. Tears and sweat mingled to shine on his cheeks and he buried his face in Gohan’s neck, shudders sweeping through his frame as the clasped hands steadily working his shaft gradually slowed, their actions lost in the all-consuming explosion of bliss that blurred and saturated his soul in ecstasy.

Gohan blinked. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since his climax, but the three of them were now lying on their sides on the bed, cuddled together. Trunks was spooning him from behind, chin tucked into the junction between his neck and shoulder, arms linked around his waist. Mirai lay before him, legs tangled with his own and a hand gently stroking his face. There was a kind of exhausted warmth emanating from the other two demi-Saiyans that seemed to raise a fog before Gohan’s eyes, inside his head, throughout his entire body. He felt content – no, more than content, he felt elated and satisfied and more right than he could ever recall. It felt so perfect where he was, snuggled between the two indescribably gorgeous teenagers he’d adored for as long as he could remember. The knowledge that they both cared for him just as much and were willing to share him, due to their love for each other, fuelled an emotion so far above and beyond the call of happiness that to describe it by that word would be the understatement of the decade.

Gohan’s deepest, most heartfelt desire had been fulfilled in the moment the two teenagers had stumbled through his door. There really was a heaven, and he’d found it in a Trunks sandwich.