Welcome to Boxer & Rice

Part Three by Ninjin

Trunks blinked as he stared at the childlike form shaking his head at his feet. //Was he watching me the whole time?// he wondered, with a blush. His mind raced back to a time, which seemed so long ago, when Gohan had caught him *watching* through the bathroom ventilation shaft at Capsule Corps. As the small figure hid his face in his mass of black hair, Trunks remembered that larger man, stepping out of the tub, water dripping from his dark head, proud, trickling over his broad chest, and powerful thighs- so different, in his adult form, from the tiny, shaking waif at his feet. //Were you spying on me, my love? Like I did with you, so long ago?// His lips quipped, as he remembered Gohan’s knowing grin, as he looked up at the ventilation screen.

“I can’t feel the exhaust, Trunks,” he had chuckled. “I know you’re there.”

//And now, here you are// Trunks tilted his head and smiled. //Like a child. You even look like one.// He bent his knees, his hands finding his terry cloth, and stood back up, hastily arranging the soft cotton around his hips. Gohan looked up, his face flushed with embarrassment, as Trunks held his hand out to him.

“It looks like you fell,” he said, simply.

//In love// Gohan thought sadly, as he shakily took the hand and stood up, using Trunks’ strength to steady himself. //I fell in love. And now, despite my best plans, it won’t mean anything.//

“Let me get dressed,” Trunks sighed, pushing Gohan out the door. “Mom can decide where we go from here.”

Gohan stood, staring at the closed door, listening to Trunks wrestle into his clothes, as confusion ran through his conscience. //Is this fate’s way of punishing me?// he wondered. He slapped his hand to his face, as he concluded, warily, //I should never have done this.//

***

Bulma tapped her broken nail on the table, as she stared down the young version of her husband.

“Why don’t you just call them?” He squeaked.

She tried not to laugh at his voice. It was a far cry from those husky tones he’d used so many times to seduce her into building a bigger, better gravity room.

“You own the fucking company!” He banged his even more diminutive fist on the opposite end of the table. “It’s your office! Your lab! Tell them to go to hell!”

She rolled her eyes. //Some things never change// She thought. //No machine in the world could shrink his attitude.// “There might be someone in there, Vegeta!” She inspected her nail, again, then groaned. “I can’t just waltz on in there, and throw everyone out. They work there, too.”

“It’s your fucking company!” Vegeta snarled.

“And my fucking employees!” Bulma snarled back. “Besides, it’s not like it’s an emergency. No one is going to die from being eight years old, again.”

Vegeta jumped on top of the stack of phone books he was sitting on, shaking in rage. “You might!”

“Oh, please!” Bulma yawned, standing up to stretch. The phone suddenly rang. She ran to the cordless, and pressed the button, glaring at Vegeta over her shoulder as she answered. “Today?” The glare turned into a smile, as Trunks entered the kitchen, followed by a withdrawn Gohan. “So no one is using it?” She looked again at Vegeta, giving him a thumbs up sign. He put his finger on his wrist and tapped, mouthing ‘when?’ “Can we go right now?” She waved back at him, in irritation. He threw his hands up in the air, rolling his eyes. “Great! Thanks, Akane!” As she clicked the button, Vegeta lost his balance on the stack of books, and fell face down onto the table.

“Dad?” Trunks choked, running to help up his tiny father.

“I’m fine!” He snapped, smacking Trunks’ hands away. “So!” He looked up at Bulma. “We go- now!”

“Sure,” she shrugged, chuckling. She turned to Gohan, who was sitting quietly on the coach, deep in thought. “Are you going to call your mother- let her know what’s up?”

“What’s the point,” he mumbled, face in hands, “Mom’d probably like the idea of having a little boy around, again.” He looked toward Trunks, who was watching him, intently. //And I guess you don’t care how old I am, Trunks// he thought, sadly. //You don’t want a spazz like me, anyway.//

***

Gohan sat on a table, in the Capsule Corps main office laboratory, deep under the ground level of the lobby. Bulma had donned a lab coat and goggles. Her blue hair was swept back by a surgical cap, and she gingerly mixed different tubes of chemicals in hands encased with similar material. The room was cast in a blinding white. //All the better to see you with!// Gohan thought, sardonically.

“Where’s Trunks- and Vegeta?” He asked, his nervousness getting the better of him.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I need Trunks’ help with these calculations. It’s not like him to be so irresponsible.” She put a tube down and wiped her forehead with the back of her sheathed hand. “Maybe you should go look for him.”

Gohan didn’t need to be asked twice. He jumped down from the table, and scurried through the entrance, his long hair whipping behind him, as the sliding door acquiesced, and opened.

***

Trunks had been lost in thought, watching his father meditate under a tree, through a window on the seventh level of the building. All thoughts of helping his mother had slipped through the tight confines of his mind, which was gripped with troubled images of his unrequited love. Gohan, training him at sunset, when the last rays of sunshine would touch his face and kiss the silken skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. Gohan, patiently explaining form and technique, his lips moving with intelligent ease over the words that instantly etched themselves in stone, old truths to be held up in monument for eternity in Trunks’ heart. Gohan, always Gohan. Forever, in his mind. And now, in his soul, as he thought of that small figure, who was shaking at his feet. //He was watching me// Trunks sighed. //I wonder if he even knew…// He shook his head in sorrow. //But I have to leave, or I will stay forever. Even with things as they are. Even if I could never touch you- I could never leave you, watch you…catch that old feeling of awe when you’re near me…// He sighed again, putting his hand to his face. //Every time I am near you, my resolve to leave crumbles.//

He heard a clanking sound, and turned to the closed office door. A janitor was mopping up the hallway, playing a radio. The static rasped over the melodic symphony, a song Trunks recognized. He smiled, closing his eyes as the music gave him a small release from torture. He put his hands in the air, holding a phantom, a dream, and pivoted on his feet.

“Where are you, my one and only love?”

***

Gohan closed his eyes and stretched his senses, as he stood in the grand foyer of the main lobby. //Where are you?// His mind drove through the hallways, winding corridors, the small rooms articulated through the many branches of the building. //Are you hiding from me?// Suddenly, his face, dusted in dark shadows, whirling in circles, came to view in his mind’s eye. His lids opened, and he smiled, feeling the strange sensation of movement that Trunks was producing. //My love…// He thought. //You’re dancing.// A smile crept over his face, but it was short lived. //I can’t barge in on him *twice*- after that last time.// He groaned, noting the room number that floated into his thoughts. //I’ll send your mother.//

***

“What do you mean, you can’t get him?” Bulma shrilled, as she looked up from her trays of test tubes. “You know where he is! Go get him, yourself!”

“But, Bulma,” Gohan muttered, looking down at his hands, hiding his face in his hair. “If- If I-”

“Oh, fuck it!” She slammed her hands down, drawing herself into a standing position. “You guys can’t do anything that doesn’t involve punching or blasting, anyway.” Gohan’s brows drew together, as he thanked whatever gods would listen, for Bulma’s quixotic temperament. “Just don’t touch anything- and I mean *anything* while I’m gone!”

“Thank you, Bulma!” Gohan tried not to beam, as he felt a small sense of relief.

The door slid shut, leaving Gohan alone in the strange lab. It was nothing like the one that was destroyed at Capsule Corps. It was larger, less personal. There were no family mementos, no pictures of Dr. Briefs with his cat, or Vegeta showing his middle finger. No bowls of kitty food on the floor. Instead, there was a sterile white tomb, impersonal, sporting various potions and gadgets on the tables and racks.

It was disturbing and intriguing all at once.

Gohan jumped up on the swivel stool Bulma had been perched on, and looked down at the various tubes and chemicals. They were arranged in a colored pattern, sparking his curiosity. //Like a scientists’ jewel box!// Forgetting her strict order not to touch, he fingered the tube with purple liquid, smiling as he remembered Trunks’ sopping wet body as he emerged from the tub. The memory’s sweetness collided with a vision of his feet, and the horrible feeling of mortification Gohan felt, as Trunks dismissed him, pushing his child’s body out of the bathroom, out of sight.

Gohan felt the tube dip, and brought his hand back up, looking down in absolute horror as a drop of the chemical dripped into a tube filled with red. A small plume of vapor curled over the rim of the glass.

“Oh, shit!”

***

“I can’t believe you would just brush me off like that, Trunks!” Bulma’s yelled just in front of the lab door.

Gohan looked up from the science journal he was pretending to read, as a drop of sweat trickled down his back. The door opened, revealing an irritated Bulma, and an apologetic Trunks, who was shrugging himself into a lab coat, mumbling words of regret.

“I didn’t mean to….I just have a lot on my mind…” His eyes shot toward Gohan, who was busy trying to look interested in a picture of Alpha Centauri. Trunks’ eyebrow shot up, and he rounded a table corner, to stand in front of Gohan. With a shaking hand, he tried not to meet the wary black eyes that looked back at him, and turned the magazine around.

“It was upside down,” he whispered. //What are you up to, Gohan?// Trunks wondered, looking away. //You were always so full of surprises.// He felt his heart swell, then squelched the emotion before it could reach his face, as he turned away, missing Gohan’s shocked gasp.

“I need you to run some calculations while I make this batch,” Bulma snapped, holding out a calculator. “I could do it myself, but timing is just as important as exact dosages.”

“Chemicals, Mom?” Trunks sighed, pulling surgical gloves onto his hands. “Wouldn’t using the body’s chemical response directly be more effective?”

Gohan’s eyes bulged at the words ‘body’s chemical response.’

“It’s not going to hurt them, Trunks,” she said. “It might not be as clean and neat. But it’ll do.” She held up the purple vial, and swirled the contents around. “If I put in just the right amount of compound twenty-one, it’ll synchronize with their DNA and bring them back to their proper ages.”

Gohan tried to suppress his groan.

“It’ll be okay,” Trunks tried to smile back at the nervous boy who could not meet his eyes. “We’ll take good care of you and Dad.”

“Let’s do it, Trunks,” Bulma tapped the tube with her broken nail.

Trunks nodded, tearing his eyes away from the dark haired figure, as they began to work.

***

Vegeta stood up, blinking as he resurfaced from his mediation. //The boy is up to something,// he thought. His mind was filled with strange residue. Images of sugar sacks, and a grinning Gohan. //I will find out what you are up to, you little shit,// Vegeta vowed.

“You said he was out here?” Bulma’s voice echoed against the concrete of the office building. Vegeta winced. //Damn woman! Can’t stop yelling!//

“I’m here!” He bellowed. “You’d better have a cure for this damn condition!”

The three of them rounded the corner of the building. Bulma, who was out of breath, and the demi Saiyans stopped in front of him. She held up a tube of bright yellow liquid, smiling gleefully.

“Okay, baby cakes!” Vegeta growled when she used the endearment. “Bottoms up!”

She shoved the vial under Vegeta’s nose. The child-like figure crossed his arms and shook his head. “It looks like piss.”

Trunks prayed the stubborn bastard would drink the concoction, first. //Who knows what it would do to my Gohan?// he thought in panic. //Just take the stuff, you microscopic troll!//

Bulma pinched Vegeta’s nose, laughing as his mouth opened to scream some list of obscenities directed at her. She took advantage of his short sighted move, and tipped the contents down his throat. He choked, and fell to the ground, limbs jerking, as his hands went to his throat. His back stretched, becoming slightly elongated, followed by his arms, and finally legs. His clothes were stretched tautly across his shaking form, nearly breaking at the seams.

“Is- is he alright?”

Trunks grabbed his hands, squeezing in a reassuring fashion, as he gave the smaller demi Saiyan a small smile. “He is- I promise,” he said, quietly.

Gohan gulped, wishing he could tell the taller figure what happened in the lab.

“That fucking HURT! Look at me! It didn’t work!” Vegeta rasped in his normal voice, as he stood back up at his full height- barely over five feet.

“Looks right to me,” Bulma looked down at his angry face. “Shit, baby- it’s not like you’re as big as Goku or anything!” She giggled as his face turned bright red in absolute rage.

You bitch!” he seethed, balling his fists up.

“Calm down. You’ll see.” She crooked a finger at Gohan, who was now hiding behind Trunk’s legs. “Gohan, take this stuff. Show his Highness.”

“Go on,” Trunks turned around, smiling again, as he reached down and pressed his hand against Gohan’s small shoulder. “Didn’t I promise? It won’t hurt you. Look at Dad- he’s normal.” They both looked at Vegeta’s stocky, irate form. “Well, normal for *him*!” He tried to laugh, as Gohan groaned. “Don’t be scared,” Trunks bent down, scooping him up in his strong arms, holding him like a baby. “I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Gohan gasped, as he was lifted up into those arms. //Oh Trunks! I wish I could tell you- that compound’s not right!// But the fluid ease of Trunk’s reassuring strength, that sweet smile looking down at him, as he was cradled in his love’s arms, was too much bliss. He complied, watching Trunks step toward his mother, and take another vial of the questionable yellow stuff. Trunks held it in front of Gohan’s face, letting the light from a street lamp hit the glass and permeate the clear contents.

“Just a few sips,” He whispered. “And you won’t be so tiny, anymore.” He tilted his head and looked imploringly at Gohan. “Drink, Gohan- for me?”

//Anything for you!// Gohan thought, forgetting his fears, as Trunks tipped the tube down to his lips, and he swallowed the acrid compound down in one gulp.

It burned. That was the first sensation he felt, as it slid down his throat. He coughed, turning his head away as his arms and legs began shaking, uncontrollably. The world spun as he felt a searing pain ride up his spine, then through his limbs and neck. He bit his tongue, in an effort not to scream.

Trunks fell to the ground, as the seizure proved to be too much to contain in a standing position. He held on to his love, watching with a horror that he fought to keep from his face, as Gohan writhed and choked in agony, his body morphing in Trunk’s arms.

“Something’s wrong!” He gasped, as the childlike body stretched too far. The back was too big, the legs too long. The shoulders were broader- an adult span- and the arms were thick masculine cords. His clothing stretched and tore, leaving a very naked, very adult Gohan.

***

Gohan sat, back at the Capsule Corps home, clad in only a lab coat, which Trunks had quickly given him after his ‘transformation,’ listening to Vegeta, Bulma and Trunks argue in the living room. //As if I wasn’t even here.// he groaned to himself. He looked down at the adult body he now inhabited, trying not to laugh at the bitter irony. //Even as an adult, I’m not good enough for him.// He listened to Trunks’ voice shrill as he shot back at his father.

“We can’t keep pouring things down his throat and experimenting on him like a guinea pig! He needs to go home to his mother!”

Gohan suppressed a sob, hearing his love verbally cast him aside. //Don’t you care? Don’t you want to see me, anymore?//

“We can’t send him home like that!” Bulma snapped. “His mother will kill me!”

“Both of you!” Vegeta snarled. “Shut the fuck up and find out what’s wrong with that piss, before *I* kill you two!”

“We need to find out what’s wrong with him, first!” Bulma yelled.

“Leave him alone!” Trunks yelled back. “He’s been through enough!”

“Oh- and I haven’t?!”

“Grow up!” They both yelled back at Vegeta, who chuckled.

“I already did- twice now!” He snarled as he made his way into the kitchen, turning his head as he caught sight of the moping Gohan, long hair cast over his face, as he sat staring into space, through the huge glass panel next to the kitchen table.

“You look like your uncle!” Vegeta laughed, as he opened the refrigerator door, and pulled out a gallon of milk, which he promptly began guzzling. Gohan sighed, shrugging nonchalantly, as Vegeta burped, then opened the freezer.

“That idiot who calls himself my father-in-law keeps his bourbon in here.” Vegeta quickly produced the chilled fifth, waving it in the air with relish. “Seven or eight of these little fuckers!” He looked back down at Gohan, frowning when his words took no effect. “I’m offering you some booze, you goddamn moron!” he snapped. Gohan combed his hair behind his ear and looked back at Vegeta with mild interest.

“Vegeta!” Bulma cried, confiscating the flask as she rounded the corner of the kitchen. “That’s Dad’s! And besides-” She tilted her chin toward Gohan, “He’s just a kid!”

“Doesn’t look like one to me!” Vegeta snapped back, as he took another fifth out of the freezer.

Trunks poked his head into the kitchen, frowning as he watched his parents go at it, again. //Don’t they ever stop?// His frown fell from his face, as he looked over the countertops, at the dark figure with his head in his hands. Outside the grounds of the Capsule Corps offices, it was too dark to really see him. In the hover car, he was driving, and only caught a few furtive glances in the rearview mirror of his transformed love. But now, in the blue cast from the halogen bulbs over the kitchen, Gohan’s gate was redescribed in startling glory. //He’s so- big!// Trunks thought, with fascination, as his eyes roamed over the rippling thighs and calves that splayed out of the white lab coat. His arms strained the fabric, clinging to the musculature like a second skin. And his hair, wild and unruly in his child form, was now a glossy mane. Trunks’ fingers itched to run through that hair.

Gohan turned his face to Trunks in a mournful cast. The purple haired demi Saiyan nearly flinched when he saw the face of his old Master, free of scars, staring back at him in mortification. //Oh my god!//

“The boy agrees!” Vegeta nodded with a broad grin.

“So let me get this straight,” Bulma snapped, as Gohan and Trunks continued to stare at each other. “We’re supposed to get drunk off of Dad’s bourbon, *then* drive back to the office, *then* make sure we got everything right?”

Gohan cleared his throat, as Trunks stared him down. //Does he know about all this?// A drop of sweat fell from his cheek. //The sugar? The antidote?// He swallowed, hard. //Is that why he’s looking at me like that?// Guilt flooded his conscience, and he felt like his soul was laid bare by the blue eyes who refused to leave his.

“You don’t get to drink, then!” Vegeta chuckled, as he poured some milk into three glasses. He tipped the flask into each glass, then returned to the one on the right hand corner, putting in quite a bit more bourbon.

I am going to bed!” Bulma snapped. “And don’t think I don’t have my own stash upstairs!”

Not anymore!” Vegeta yelled as she left the kitchen.

“You asshole!” She thumped the elevator pad with her finger, hard, breaking another nail. “Mother fucker!” She screamed, as the doors opened.

“I take it he’s staying, too,” Vegeta chuckled, as he took a gulp. He opened his eyes, and frowned, as he saw that the two demi Saiyans had ignored that entertaining spat he put on, just for their edification and bemusement. //To hell with them, then!// Vegeta thought with another grin, as he put more bourbon in his milk. //I’ll find out what that bastard’s up to, soon enough.//

Vegeta snapped his fingers as he walked in front of their line of vision. “I was thoughtful enough not to take all the booze.” He took another drink from his glass, as he put his hand on his hip and glared into Trunks’ face. The younger demi Saiyan, at the sight of his father’s milk moustache, began laughing, feeling the tension break. “Thank you, *Dad*!” Vegeta snarled, as he sauntered out of the kitchen. “Now, where’s my damn piece?” his voice echoed, further down the hall, close to the elevators.

“I guess…” Trunks’ voice trailed off, as he continued to stare in awe at Gohan. “I guess we’re not going back to the lab-”

“-or to my house.” Gohan’s brow creased, as he looked back at Trunks.

//Don’t want you here? My love! I want you everywhere!// “I was just concerned about you-”

Gohan nodded, trying to shake off the excuse. //Sure. I blow up your capsule. Peek in on you- and you catch me! I screw things up at the lab. What’s gotten into me?// Gohan only had to look into Trunks’ blue eyes to realize. //I am so screwed up. I love you, Trunks. And it’s just not the right time for us- it never will be!//Those thoughts reverberated in his mind. //It’s not meant to be!// His mouth turned down, in a terrible slant, and his eyes creased shut, as he cried- in harsh, gut wrenching sobs.

“GOHAN!” Trunks ran to him, kneeling in front of the heaving shoulders, trying to pull the rigid arms away from his beloved’s face. “What’s wrong? TELL ME!”

“I can’t!” Gohan choked. “You wouldn’t understand!”

Trunks’ eyebrows came together, as he watched some indefinable thoughts torture Gohan. //Is it the strain of all this?// He sighed. //Probably not. He’s a warrior. He can take events in stride. Unless-// remembered the incident in the bathroom- that embarrassed reaction…the fact that he was watching in the first place!

“Hey!” Trunks said, softly. “I know what’s bothering you!” He smiled, tilting his head as Gohan pulled his hands away, revealing a wet, tear stained face.

//He knows?// Gohan thought. //And he’s not mad?//

“You- you do?”

“It’s perfectly natural!” Trunks nodded his head, putting his hand on his beloved’s cheek, feeling elation, letting his joy spread over his face in a wide smile.

Gohan’s eyes widened. “I don’t- I don’t know about *natural*-” He stuttered, trying to control the shake in his voice.

“Who’s to say?” Trunks shrugged, taking his hand, and pulling him up. He took a napkin from the table, and wiped Gohan’s cheeks, eyes, then nose, laughing a little as Gohan wriggled it under the cloth. “There,” Trunks put the napkin down, and cupped Gohan’s flushed face in his hands. “All better?”

Gohan smiled back, feeling as though a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. “So much better.”

“I don’t want you to go, Gohan,” Trunks muttered thickly, as he looked at the soft, firm lips that quivered back at him. “I know I was saying you had to go back to your mother’s house. But it’s not what I want. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes tight, as if the next words he was about to say were too much to bear. “If I had my way, I’d never, *ever* let you go.”

Gohan gasped. //He wants me?//

“I’ve wanted to tell you something…for a long time now…” Trunks whispered, as he looked up into Gohan’s glistening black eyes.

“Wh-what?” Gohan stuttered in disbelief.

“I love you.”

Gohan could not believe what he heard. //He *loves* me? Even though I did all those terrible, stupid things?// “How?” he squeaked, the high pitch of his voice barely matching the great gate of his form. He turned away, letting his hair fall over his eyes.
//How could I not?// Trunks thought. “Like this…” He leaned forward, brushing the hair out of Gohan’s eyes. dark demi Saiyan flinched, as a trembling hand went under his chin, the thumb stroking his lower lip. “Close- close your eyes.” Gohan groaned, as his lids fell, and Trunks brought his face to his, touching their lips together, in a ghost of a kiss.

“Gohan…” Trunks breathed, as he kissed again, this time with open lips, sighing as Gohan responded in time, with another groan. “Do you love me, Gohan?”

“Yes-” he whispered hoarsely.

This time Trunks groaned, letting his hands grasp the lapels of the lab coat, and pushing his mouth onto his, letting his tongue slide tentatively across Gohan’s upper lip, relishing the taste of sugar.

“So sweet…” Trunks muttered, as he pressed their foreheads together, breath intermingling in choked gasps. Trunks winced, and stumbled back, touching the abrasion on his brow, with a slight, pained expression. “Ouch!” he chuckled.

“I’m so sorry!” Gohan cried, putting his hand over Trunks’.

“It’s not your fault,” the other demi Saiyan smiled back with affection.

//Of course it is!// Gohan chastised himself.

“Come here,” Trunks lost his smile, as his eyes dropped down to Gohan’s mouth. “I know something that will make us both feel really good.”

Trunks took his hand, and pulled the darker demi Saiyan against him. He traced the arc of corded neck muscles with one finger, relishing Gohan’s sharp intake of breath, before he bent his head, letting his tongue follow that trail.

“So beautiful,” he said, thickly, as his hands pulled the jacket back over broad shoulders. Trunks lapped the exposed skin, then blew over it, watching the goose bumps rise on that peachy, silken skin over his muscular arms. “So sweet…” His hands raked over those arms, nails grazing the flesh, as his teeth lightly bit into Gohan’s earlobe, making him gasp. “Hold me,” he scratched again, beckoning him. “Hold me, Gohan,” he nuzzled his wild, thick mane. “Hold me.”

Trunks cried out as he felt the naked body of his beloved press into him, sending heat through his now superfluous clothes, and reeled when he felt those strong arms wrap around him, tightly, squeezing, as though he were afraid he would disappear at any moment. Their mouths found each other, collided, and sensation exploded through their bodies as their tongues intertwined and wrestled passionately.

Trunks snaked his hands through Gohan’s hair, brushing through the rough texture, as Gohan’s hands blindly ran up and down the length of his back. Slowly, Trunks let his hands slip down to the broad shoulders, as he lapped his tongue against Gohan’s, down the sides of his torso, until they reached the jut of his pelvic muscle, and traced the arc of tight musculature, until his hands were firmly on his hard buttocks. Gohan gave a guttural moan as Trunks squeezed the hard flesh, and pressed him into his arousal.

“Good?” Trunks whispered, as he broke the kiss, staring into the glittering black depths.

“Good,” Gohan nodded back, licking his lips as he smiled shyly into Trunks’ blue gaze.

“I’ve wanted this,” Trunks said gravely, “for a long, long time.”

“Me, too.”

Trunks tilted his head, frowning for a moment. “But you’re so young-”

“So are you!” Gohan managed to laugh.

Trunks closed his eyes, sighing deeply. “I suppose so.” He dropped his hands and briskly undid his shirt, looking down at the buttons in consternation. “I would have worn a t shirt if I knew…” he shrugged the shirt away, then pulled down his pants. Groaning in exasperation, he realized he forgot the shoes.

“Let me!” Gohan cried, falling to his knees and sitting on his heels as he undid the bootstraps, and pulled them off. Trunks let himself fall to the ground, feet in the air, as the last boot was tossed away.

“Look at us!” Trunks breathed, sitting up on his elbows, as he stared up into Gohan’s adoring expression. It was older, but still *him*, Trunks realized, as he watched Gohan blow at the overblown lock in the middle of his face.

“Here,” Trunks smiled, sitting up and brushing the errant cowlick behind an ear. His fingers lingered over the lobe, and swirled in the shell.

Gohan could not keep his eyes off of the honey colored mold of his love’s body. The skin was now dry, but shone like silk as the light bounced and played on his toned flesh. //You’re the beautiful one, Trunks// he thought.

“I want to love you,” Trunks said, touching his cheek, willing those dark eyes to look back at him. “Do you know what I mean?”

“I want to love you, too,” Gohan replied, in simple innocence.

Trunks sighed, gently stroking his cheek, as he sat on his heels, pushing the darker demi Saiyan down with his other hand. “I meant that I want to make you feel good.” His hand went from his cheek to the bunching abdominal muscles, tracing circles with his shaking fingers. “Like this,” His fingers found the jutting length, and gently encircled the engorged shaft, making Gohan cry out.

“Oh yes! I want that!”

One hand stayed on his penis while the other cupped his sac, holding him gently, as he began stroking him. Gohan’s breath hissed through his nose, as fire licked through his veins. //You make it seem so easy…// He looked up into the blue depths that were glazed over, gauging his body’s jerking reactions. // Maybe it is… // those were Gohan’s last coherent thoughts before Trunks closed his eyes and lowered his head.

Gohan’s nails dug into the eggshell colored textile floor, as Trunks soft, warm mouth enveloped the head of his penis. He sucked as his tongue slipped across the top, then flitted over the slit. Gohan threw his head to the side, gritting his teeth, as he fought the urge to thrust his hips upward and push himself deep into that sweet warmth. Trunks seemed to understand, and pushed his hand under his hip, as his head came down, taking more of him in. He grunted in approval as Gohan began rocking against him, feeling his shaft slide in and out of his mouth, the head hitting the back of his throat. There were loud, slurping sounds as Trunks bobbed his head in sync with the motion of Gohan’s thrusts. He continued to grunt as Gohan increased his pace, shivering and sobbing against the brink Trunks was taking him to. Fire and ice tore through his body, as Trunks slid his finger between the friseur of his hips, and found his opening. The clever fingers gently pressed against him, never breaching, as his mouth created a tighter suction, bringing Gohan over the edge.

“Ngh!” Gohan gave a final thrust, as he came, obliterating all of his assumptions about pleasure or beauty, when he saw Trunks throw his head back in a gasp, as his orgasm streamed in an arc of droplets from the center of himself, to Trunks’ panting mouth.

He fell back, against the textile, battling to catch his breath, and failing, as his new body twitched and jerked from the after effects of Trunks’ ministrations.

“More?” Trunks breathed. His head loomed over Gohan’s line of vision; his eyes were narrowed into blue slits that ran over his flesh in hungry appraisal. “I can give you more.” He wiped the moisture Gohan left on his mouth with the back of his hand. “I want to, Gohan. I want you.”

“Will you?” Gohan managed to say.

“What?” Trunks sank back down between his legs, propping his knees over his shoulders, as he ran his hands over the hard, buckling tendons of his upper thighs.

“Are you going to put it inside of me?” He said, in a hushed whisper.

“What do you *want* inside of you?” Trunks asked, with a gleam in his eye, as Gohan’s head jerked up.

“What- what do you mean?”

“It doesn’t have to be-”

“But I want that-” Gohan’s words rushed out before he could stop them.

“Shh-” Trunks put a finger to his wet lips, then brought it back to cup the underside of his hip, tilting Gohan’s pelvis until his opening was a mere breath away from Trunks’ face.

“You mean…?” Gohan’s head fell back, as he felt the warm sensation over his puckered skin. “Oh geez- *Trunks!*” He yelled, as his tongue intermittently circled then lanced, poking gently through his breach. Gohan tossed his head from side to side, groaning, mouthing incoherent words as Trunks went on and on, coaxing his arousal back with knowing hands as his tongue continued to do it’s clever work, seducing Gohan into a world of sweet colored lights, drawing him closer and closer to another orgasm. “Ngh- Tru-u-unks! I can’t!” //I need to feel you in me!// Gohan grasped with shaking hands, begging, scratching against the hard wall of muscle, as nails scored the smooth chest. “Ple-ease…”

Trunks sat up, keeping Gohan’s legs over his shoulders, as he brought their erections together, grasping both roots in his hands, and began pumping, inhaling deeply with pressed lips as Gohan’s hands fell back to the floor, clapping the surface with his palms.

“If we were-” Trunks speech slurred, “together I would love you like this-” He ground his hips in a slow drive, growling as Gohan cried out against him. “I would love you so hard, so much. I would *never* stop.”

“Then do it!” Gohan groaned.

Trunks pulled his hips back, readying himself, as he pressed his penis against the wet opening he’d so lovingly slathered moments ago. //I feel like a gun about to go off…// He tried to think of something to check his passion, to help him sustain…But when he looked down, and saw Gohan’s face, lips quivering in anticipation and a little fear, brows drawn in deep concentration, he knew his resolve was blown, in that peachy blush that scattered over his beloved’s cheeks…the one that even fate could not take away from him, this time. He felt the hot, tight flesh open for him, and hissed in pleasure, as Gohan sobbed, feeling the forces of nature herself pull him into the depths, the mystery and beauty Gohan held within himself.

“Tell me- tell me if I am hurting you-”

“Don’t stop!” Gohan threw his arm over his eyes. “I’ll kill you if you stop!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love.” He threw his head back, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply, as he began to move his hips gingerly, until he felt Gohan’s answering thrust, when he found his prostate. Then pulling back, he grasped the jutting shaft that begged for release between Gohan’s trembling thighs, and began pumping the heated flesh, as he thrust against the nerve bundle, willing the world, with all it’s obligations, and the constraints of time with all the rules of physics, to fade away as his body rode against the hard, open body, that exploded like a firecracker with him.

“I love you!” They both shouted, as Trunks fell on top of Gohan, and held his shuddering beloved, as they both felt the fire sweep over their bodies.