Welcome to Boxer & Rice

Playful blue laughed silently from over the rim of their shared drink. Pulling the cup from his lips, Trunks smirked. "You're blushing, you know..." the lilac princeling gestured as he passed the tumbler to his companion.
One fine brow arched demurely to his Technicolor counterpart, a frown accenting his tone. "Bakana…" taking a deep swallow from the near empty container, he wiped the excess liquid from his lips with the back of his hand, "I am not."

"Oh, you so are." Trunks removed his flannel over shirt, wincing slightly at the tender muscles sure to spawn bruises across his broad shoulders when the after math of their most recent spar would catch up with him in the morning. He smiled warmly as he folded the discarded covering, setting it to rest with the remnants of their packed lunch. "Don't worry. 'S cute." He wiggled his brow, idly brushing rebellious strands of irrational pastel from his vision. "Was it Gohan-san? Was he the reason you got so suddenly hot and bothered?" he shifted closer to his stilled cohort, "it was the towel, ne? You needed to spar with somebody because you got to see him in nothing bu--"

"Yamero." Chucking the emptied mug onto the doubled over cotton button-down, the elder demi raised his knees, wrapping his long arms around them. "You know father and I spar at this time everyday," a glance to his younger self, "he was detained today. You were not." His frown deepened as he turned his full attention to the younger Briefs. "You need to train more, anyway. All that time with Goten has softened you."

The shorthaired Ouji narrowed his eyes knowingly, keeping contact. "Hn. And I'm sure all that time with Gohan-san has had the opposite effect on you, ne?"

Mirai fidgeted, his blush deepening.

Trunks smirked. "Aha. So that's what I look like when I blush," Torunks scowled, "always wondered about that..."

The doppelganger tilted his head in slight confusion, pursing his lips at the implicative wink closing his younger half's statement. A slight sneer playing at the corners of his mouth, the future prince lowered his voice. "Really." He shifted, letting a knee fall to rest against the abused thigh of his partner. "Hn. I've wondered some things, myself…." Twisting at the waist, Torunks wrapped one arm around Trunks' back, dragging the suddenly surprised prince toward him. Without hesitation, the elder man pressed his lips to those before him--his soft heat against the equally smooth flesh of his younger self.

Hearts racing, dazed and somewhat flushed, the two princes broke their experimentally chaste kiss, sliding back just enough to look blankly into mirroring pools of the palest cerulean. Blinking the bewilderment back, Trunks swallowed. "Torunks…"

"Hmmm..." it was barely the reaction the present time Briefs would have expected, but it would be a blatant lie to say it was unwelcome.

Twirling a strand of the pale purple crowning his adolescent counterpart around one finger, the future son of Vejiita released a held breath.

"Haven't you ever wondered...?" he let the query trail, eyes lifting seductively to those of the older demi-Saiyan. If it was true, and they were indeed the same…

Raising a hand to caress the subtle flesh of the cheek before him, Mirai slowly leaned forward, lips inching toward the rosy petals of the younger man. "Often..." His confession left him breathless as those pert lips gingerly teased his own with their haunting breath.

Grinning at the cherry rush he felt rolling from his lavender facsimile, the younger demi slid his hands up the muscled arms wrapped around him, over the hard biceps to entwine his fingers in the lavish locks that seemed to mock his own. "I mean..." the blush painting his features forced a lively little tongue to tip out, lightly moistening his lips to quell the heat he felt. "I know what I like...and you're…me..." he tugged lightly on the lily-lit tresses his lithe digits curled lovingly around, "right?"

Purring gently, Torunks tightened his hold on the boy, relishing the slender waist and high hip bones through the simple gi pants worn by that body structure, so like his own. "Hai…"

With a smirk, the mirai misfit jerked his arms, crushing the younger man to his chest, allowing his lips to trail down the demi-Saiyan's neck as light as the brush strokes harnessed in the creation of the most elaborate kanji. "I know your fantasies, Trunks..." The boy shivered, back arching, guiding his head to loll, letting the man's strong arms support his docile form. Nodding incoherently, he closed his eyes to the blue of the late summer sky, acknowledging the truth barely hiding in his elder's statement.

A hand caressed down the sleek adolescent back curving for he alone, and the dim-lit demi gently pushed aside the waistband of his pseudo-sibling's pants. "I know all your fantasies, Trunks…" he let his fingers dance delicately around the tell-tale scar at the base of the boy's spine…

Crying out, the young Briefs thrust his hips hard into the older man, his face flushing as his knees quaked beneath the ministrations of the other son. "S-shit..." he grit his teeth against the ache radiating through out his lower half, panting as he was granted that minute reprieve as the elder demi began to speak.

"I know them all, Trunks." He lightly brushed his fingers over the spot once more, causing an almost tear filled exclamation of pleasure from the boy in his embrace. Lapping lightly at the callow man's lobe, he hissed into the tender flesh of the neck craned before him, tongue trailing insignificant kisses over the tendons and muscles of his young, taught nape.

"How does it make you feel to know someone knows, Trunks...?" He lowered his head to suckle at the soft, sensitive flesh of the child's shoulder, leaving a dark bruise beneath his tongue. "To realize your secrets aren't really secret anymore...?" Slithering across the flesh exposed by the tattered tee, he nipped his way back toward the timid ear turned anxiously toward his heated breath.

Wrapping his arms around the thick waist pressed to him, he shuddered again as his elder image reversed to kiss down his throat, clenching his eyes and teeth as he felt those deft digits work over the area above his tailbone once more.

"NnnNnnnnn...."

Words failed him just as his coherence had earlier.

Mirai grinned evilly at the shivering form he held, occasionally slowing to eye the boy's face--the expressions of pure lust and helplessness he found there only working to fuel his ministrations.

"You want him to be on top," he stated as if it were universal fact.

The paler Ouji opened his eyes, starting slightly at the declaration, a blush tinting his pallid countenance. "H…hhhnnn..." he whimpered his response, the shock of the statement killing any remaining logic he may have held in his possession.

The future prince chuckled, drawing back slightly to catch the adolescent's eye. "You want to be taken, Trunks."

A smirk.

"You don't want all the control." He slowly moved forward, brushing his lips softly against the other demi's, teasingly. "I know what you want, Trunks," a soft chuckle saw that inherited expression fade, "don't worry about that...there's nothing to be afraid of…." He pulled the boy close to his chest, capturing his open mouth in a rough kiss. Closing his lips over the weak struggling and half-hearted cries of his younger self, he willed his tongue dominant over the stiff response of the child's base reaction.

/...I promise it'll be good..../

Trunks shuddered hard with each touch of his future self. Those damndable hands he knew so well were mesmerizing to him as they caressed with infinite tenderness down the well-defined muscles of his chest to the simple knotted string that cinched his pants and kept them loosely on his hips. /Dende, I wonder if this is how Goten feels when I--/

"Aaahhhhhaaa…aa…Tor…unks…" Mirai's soft chuckle of breath on his ear sent a barrage of pleasure through his system, and the mind he'd just tried to gain control over buckled completely as those very fingers exploited his Saiyan weakness, ravaging his tail spot with insatiable vigor.

"You want to feel me inside you...you want me to fuck you nice and hard until all you see is the red haze of your own passion..."

A whimper escaped his lips an instant before he silenced it, biting it off with a clench of his teeth.

Another deep laugh provided the prologue to his chastisement.

"Ah, ah ahh..." A lap to the boy's slick skin saw his noises quieted. "Papa wouldn't like to know that his son begs to be fucked--that the next prince of Saiyans prefers to have his ass pounded like a common soldier..."

The youngest son of the royal house cringed--gripping the waist of the older man tightly, trying heatedly to ignore the erotic dirtiness of his words and the effect they were having on his growing anatomy. Sliding shaking hands up the perfect muscles of the displaced-demi's back, Trunks fisted Mirai's hair and forcefully brought him down for a panting kiss. One leg shifted to wind around the expansion of his mid-section, delicate, youthful hips thrusting hard on the welcoming muscle of Mirai's thigh.

His head fell back with a throaty moan as he was hoisted to sit on powerful thighs, his future counterpart finishing with his tail spot and travelling to finger the sensitive ring of muscle a little further down. Pushing determinedly on, trapping the groaning boy between his hard body and the sweet invasion of his long digit, Torunks shifted the smaller frame to better suit his invasive touch.

Bending the boy back a little further as his lips planted fevered trails of succulent fire down his throat and shoulders, the seductive Saiyan carefully attended to the slight bulge of his Adam's apple, flicking his dainty pink tongue across the dip in his collar and leaving glistening paths over the red and blue marks of his previous exploration.

His own arousal stimulated tauntingly by the warm, delicious body of his past self, the heady scent of lust and need mixed, driving him to thrust harder and deeper into the tight, inviting entrance of his father's other son.

Groaning, reveling in the masculine taste of sweat and desire, Mirai carefully withdrew his finger.

After all, it wouldn't do to break the boy just yet, ne…?

A feral glint in his eye made the young Saiyan pause in his rapture--right before the hand on his punch-drunk chest shoved him to the ground. Licking his lips, lavender hair cascading in waves over his shoulder, Mirai began to undo the metal buckle of his belt, holding the younger man's gaze.

"I know you want to be used...like a toy, a plaything. Even now you're half imagining that I'm father..."

Wide blue eyes snapped up to meet narrowed cobalt pinpoints. They only grew in size as his counterpart finished with his belt and reached into his pants.

/Dende...save me from myself..../ Trunks pushed himself up onto one elbow, gaze locked hypnotically as the man above him rose to kneel. Pulling his cock from his pants Torunks gripped it--stretching and stroking the loose flesh for the youth's…personal…pleasure.

"Trunks..." Mirai just smiled down at the kid, the animalistic sneer worn on the face of his future raking a chill down the flat figure's back. "Don't look so surprised…Trunks," he was relentless in his action, continuing undaunted in his singular act, "this is what you want." A light moan interrupted his lesson. "This is what you've been waiting for. I know it is."

He lowered his head, eyeing the nervous youth before him as a vulture would carrion.

"I know it is because I've been waiting for it, too..."

Mirai no Torunks leaned forward, resting his weight on one palm planted firmly on the ground as he hovered closer to the boy's reddened face. "Don't worry, Trunks-kun," he gently kissed the boy's forehead, working enticingly toward his hesitant lips. Releasing himself, the masterful prince grabbed the waist of the lad's loosened pants. "It only hurts for a second."

Trunks stared unseeing into the deep azure above him--his breath hitching as his future self tore the soft, light cloth from his legs to reveal his stiff, hot secret to the world.

Chuckling at the audible swallow, the elder Briefs shook his head. "Don't play games, boy."

The princeling could have sworn he heard his father's declaration--not one of man above him. He was quickly pulled from the thought as he felt a weight on his wrists, moving his arms to rest above his head. A harsh kiss stopped him from turning to see the hand clamping them tightly together.

"MMmrmammph!"

/Shut it./ he heard a voice in his head chide. /You want this.../ he felt the strong hand slide down his side, snaking over his hip to grasp his aching erection.

/You've been dreaming about this./ The hand slowly started to pump his shaft, stopping occasionally to brush a thumb against the head.

Trunks willed himself to breathe again, closing his eyes.

/You wake up in the morning, panting, sweating...wet./ He bit down on the 't', pressing his lips mercilessly to the youthful buds beneath him.

/You turn, hoping he didn't hear your moans, that he doesn't feel the seed you've spilt in the night./ A soft moan escaped him as the mirai Ouji pulled back, allowing his junior air. "You rush to the bathroom to take a shower, thinking you can try to hide the fact."

Trunks opened his bleary, lust-drunk eyes to stare, red-faced, at the man who knew him as well as himself.

"The fact that you want this," he opened his mouth in a silent whine as he felt the hand leave his stiff cock, the smeared precum drying, cooling in a slight breeze.

"The fact that you want me," he felt Torunks raise his hips slightly, a pause, a silence giving him permission to blink, caught by the look of desire painted on the features of the longhaired version of himself.

An evil smirked curled over his carbon copy's face as he finished his monologue.

"The fact that you wish I was papa..." at that he thrust his hard length into the boy below him, eyes narrowing at the clenched cry of his weaker counterpart.

He wouldn't scream. He wouldn't scream...even though the throbbing organ ripped and seared his virgin passage with its entrance, shedding his crimson blood on the soft ground beneath them. He lost the battle with himself as Mirai pulled back sharply, only to buck his hips forward again, burying his erection in the tight heat of his paler complement.

"Torunks!" It was a plea, and both men knew it. The muscles in his arms strained valiantly with the effort to free them from the unwanted, though highly arousing bondage of the other demi-Saiyan's insistent grip.

"You want this," the older man leered, drawing his tongue across the parted chasm of Trunks' lips. "Just imagine that I'm father...you know he wouldn't be gentle with you, Trunks. Even if you are his favourite son..."

Cerulean snapped up at the comment. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

The once and future prince granted himself a few rapid thrusts, snarling his pleasure as he loosened the virginal passage before him. A painful mix of friction and bodily essence guided the eager Ouji through his masochistic menage, the low growl rising in volume with the wax and wane of his impulsive shaft as he grabbed the boy's balls in a fit of anger and grace.

This child was his.

No one would dare fight his claim.

Denying the yells and screams desperate for release, Trunks merely writhed around the invasive organ pounding him backward into the dirt. The initial assault did nothing but hurt, and now being caught by the balls didn't help ease the ache.

But…

There was something in the actions of his elder image the boy could not deny.

Something almost alluring about the tearing muscle and scent of fresh blood being spilt on cool grass.

Something completely archaic about the grunting and suffering his slighter frame was subject to beneath the dominating passions of this mirai Ouji.

Something so undeniably Saiyan.

Something in his lineage.

Something in him.

Even through his nervous fear and terror, Trunks could not deny the beautiful, charnel sensations that the other man invoked. His moans were soon joining those of his counterpart in a harmony that preceded time itself, man's first melody that echoed in throes of primal passion.

"Take it, boy, take it all..." Mirai's words resounded through his brain, deepening in tone to merge into that of his father. As his pleasure mounted, his reasoning faltered, pale eyes closing, legs wrapped around his elder half…

His scent...so like his own, so like the father that created them both, deep and intoxicating, encompassing…

In his mind's eye it was no longer his future self that he surrendered to, but that of his father. The hard cock that drove him higher and higher toward ecstasy increased his awareness even as it stripped him of all but the physical sensations of being fucked mindless.

Through narrow slits, Torunks watched his younger self succumb to his persuasive touch. He knew what the boy was thinking--he could feel it too. It was all too easy to put his father's face on the writhing form beneath him, to hear Vegeta's voice screaming his name, urging him on…

His thrusts began more frantic as they both neared completion--his dizzying assault on the boy's anus pulling him farther into the game, deeper into not only the body of the younger demi, but also the mind for whom desire ran most high.

Vejiita no Ouji.

Leaning more weight on the hand that clamped the other's wrists together, his opposite hand found the fleshy underside of Trunks' thighs and with a particularly savage thrust, he brought the free palm down on the sensitive area.

It may have been the sound of the slap, or maybe the unexpected feeling of sudden heat on his flank that caused his eyes to flash open, but whichever it was, the next harsh contact from his compliment's hand convinced him that everything he was experiencing was real.

Mirai thrust deeply, a corresponding slap that graced his ears pulled a surprised cry from his counterpart. "Dammit, boy...scream for me! Say my name, damn you!" Trunks' eyes widened at the command. Kami, he sounded just like--

"Say it!" Another slap that jerked his body back, his hips still slamming into the child with venomous force. Kami, he was close...so close, his rumbling fire fueled by the older demi-Saiyan's insane request.

He couldn't refuse the pleasure--the demanding man above him.

So obediently, he complied as he crashed into the wall of his powerful release--

"FATHER!"

******
/Die, damn you!/ Vegeta, striking out at an invisible enemy to his right, followed it with a sweeping kick that would have knocked the head from his unfortunate adversary, had he really existed. Moving back into a defensive position, he prepared himself for another attack when he felt a wave of pure, overwhelming panic shoot through him--followed by the mental cry of his son.

/FATHER!/

"Bakana!" He was in the air before he had thought to object. The boy was in trouble and he had to kill the bastard that dared to mess with his heir...

******
As he yelled he felt the fingers close around his aching shaft, the nearly instantaneous release causing that hand to easily glide up and down his slick pole as Torunks heatedly jerked his submissive self dry.

Trunks stared, wide-eyed at the boy still slamming ruthlessly into him as he himself rested comfortably on the crest of pleasure, numb to everything but those dark eyes and the seductively painted smirk glaring down at him. /Dende-sama..../

Mirai mused at the boy's pleasure as he refused the release that so painfully needed to be fulfilled. He wanted to make this little slice of heaven last as long as possible, savoring every part of the boy below him while he still had the control, the opportunity. He narrowed his eyes again, an evil grin lighting his features--but the panting youth was too intoxicated on passion and his still fresh, cooling cum to notice.

"Did you like that, boy...?" he looked into those navy orbs once more, his head spinning slightly at the sound of that familiar voice. He cringed and turned his face to the side, sweat glistening on his pallid features, still too tired to do anything save hide his blush.

The dominating Briefs chuckled, gradually slowing his thrusts to agonizingly long, full pushes and pulls in and out of the prone adolescent's essence-slicked passage. Closing his devious eyes, the young man breath deep, reveling in the scent swirling around him; release painted a pretty ruby with the splattering taint of albumen and blood that wound across his thighs and abdomen, baptizing him in the furious wake of his assault. Leaning his head down, he drew closer to the spent youth.

Trunks closed his eyes, moaning low as he sensed the man above him release his limp dick to fall uselessly to his thigh with a light slap. The sudden smell of his own sex invaded his nostrils and he felt a wet finger trace his lower lip, causing him to turn back toward the Saiyan. Opening his weary, sex heavy lids, he stared at himself.

"This is what you've wanted, Trunks." Mirai bent forward, still holding the younger demi's wrists above his head, still gliding in and out of the boy slowly, still running one finger over the youngster's quivering lower lip…

He smirked.

"This is what we've both wanted, Trunks," he lowered his nose to rest, just touching the shorthaired prince's. Languidly, he released his wrists, sliding his deft digits down that dirt-dusted cheek to wrap, tightly, around his past-self's neck.

"This is the way it should be, my prince." Trunks' eyes opened fully as he heard the last words echo through the air surrounding them.

"This is love, boy."

As the assertion hotly brushed the nervous lips below him, Mirai became aware of the familiar presence at his back. Smirking, he captured that succulent bon of innocence reborn and youth misplaced in a bruising kiss, killing off the protest before it had time to form. The struggles died quickly as he felt that crushing grip on his neck suddenly shift, dexterous fingers catching a nerve, causing the lily-lit Briefs to slip quietly into the black of unconsciousness.

Torunks drew back slowly, a trail of cooling saliva still holding him to the limp figure below. Without turning, he greeted the silent voyeur.

"Konban wa, papa."

Grinning like a crazed Cheshire cat, Mirai pulled out of the ravaged body beneath him, his own sex still painfully hard, the release he desired reserved for one, very special person. Pushing gracefully to his feet, he brushed the cheek of the boy gently with his fingertips. "That's my good boy...sleep..." Pivoting slowly, the pallid prince turned to face his father, his light, silky hair plastered to his sweaty form, his chest coated with the remains of his prostrate self's spent passion.

"Konban wa…Vejiita."

The Saiyan no Ouji was caught in a spider web of sensation--nausea, disgust, irritation…lust.

Watching both his sons fuck like animals did not disturb him.

It was the word his youngest had screamed that formed the questions in the prince's mind.

And his eldest...there was a savage gleam in his too bright eyes that Vejiita had only ever seen in the mirror.

He almost stepped back before the approaching man, the scent of sex and sweat exciting him despite all contrary efforts.

And he did look damn sexy, that hair, so unlike a Saiyan's, flowing over his shoulders, into his eyes, framing the face that reminded him a little too much of himself.

Standing his ground, shoulders squared, the prince waited for the brat to speak.

Instinct granted him the knowledge his mind was not prone to give--the boy was at a mental breaking point. Now was not the time to push his buttons. Especially with his heir lying vulnerable on the ground behind him.

Ebony eyes shot up at his words--that hated title was gone from his lips.

There were no pleading whines of "Father."

The man had just called him by his name.

And somehow that infuriated him even more.

Torunks chuckled as he watched the emotions the man tried so desperately to keep hidden rise to the surface. Licking his lips, he allowed his gaze to devour the lean, animal form of the figure before him. Smaller than the boy he had just pleasured, but harder, faster, stronger...

He knew Vejiita had seen his look; there was fear behind those cruel, heartless eyes.

Just a flicker.

But that's all you really need to start a fire.

"How nice of you to…" a smirk, "come, Vejiita. I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive." The prince glanced quickly at the unconscious figure and Torunks laughed throatily.

"Yes, he did scream...but he was screaming for me." He took an instinctive step back--fists balled and ready to defend himself from that half-crazed loon.

"Screaming because I made him." A growl curled his lower lip, his foot sliding behind him carefully, strengthening his center of gravity.

"He's mine, Vejiita." He arched a brow--quickly training his eyes on the aggressive form slowly stepping toward him.

"My son--mine to control! He was screaming for me--MY name!"

/Good gods…the boy has completely lost it.../ Black eyes narrowed at the vocal declaration, muscles tensing, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt to breathe.

"I am the prince--the KING of all Saiyans!"