Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Addictions ❯ Chapter 5 ( Chapter 5 )

Addictions

Rated: NC17

Pairing: Gohan/Trunks

Pairing Hints: Goten/Trunks, Videl/Gohan, Videl/Trunks, hints of Videl/Goten

Warnings: S&M, Gohan torture, drug usage, yaoi, depression, attempted suicide, no incest by some strange miracle… *blink*

Summary: When Videl and Gohan's marriage begins to fall apart, Trunks sees his chance to jump in and take what he's always wanted… but there's a small problem. What caused the marriage to crumble, and will Goten and Videl just stand by and watch their loves be taken away?

Inspired by: Hope is just a terrible desire, like an addiction. When the drug looses its effect, comes back ten times worse. He knew it, still kept deceiving himself, and hoping his life would be better somehow. He was wrong and the truth hurt him even worse. Hope was only an illusion, a drug, and he'd had enough of it. In the end, he simply gave up. ("Twisted Mourning" by Karen)

Author's Notes: Huge hugs to L.N. for beta reading the smut scene! *glomps her*

It was a victory for Gohan, yet he didn't really feel like celebrating. A deafening silence engulfed the lavish office as the radio was turned off. Trunks stood in front of the small table where it sat, shoving his hands into his pockets, sitting there and silently fuming, yet not moving an inch or showing any signs of any emotion. It was the most amazing sight he had ever beheld.

Turning, Trunks titled his head slightly to the side, smirking at Gohan. "So… you obeyed my orders." He clicked his tongue thoughtfully, turning and striding towards his desk. There he paused, blue oceanic eyes turning again to Gohan. "Yet… at the same time, you didn't." He fell back into the plush chair, chuckling.

Gohan licked his dry lips, scowling. "Damn it, Trunks! These games…"

"Are your games!" Trunks interjected with a snarl, striking the desk with his fist. Gohan was silenced by that harshness, eyes wide at the threatening expression on the prince's face. It took a moment for Trunks to regain his composure, and Gohan realized that the momentary slip of Trunks' absolute control had shaken the demi to his core.

Trunks slumped back in his chair. The smirk that crossed his lips was forced. "You cause the games, Gohan. At any time, you can stop them, and you know how." Azure eyes drifted to the small box Gohan held at his side. "I knew you wouldn't open it until you were here. Go ahead. See what's inside." There was mischief in that voice. Gohan scowled. "I will…"

"Never mind," Trunks hissed when a quiet beep went off from the laptop that sat idly on the desk. He rose to his feet, grabbing the machine and nodding towards a closed door that rested a few feet away. "Go in there. Open the box. Then meet me in the room at the end of the hall… with what's inside the box… in its proper place on your person." The smirk had turned genuine. The words were quite specific. With a wink, Trunks left Gohan standing in the room alone, jaw on the floor.

~*~

Slamming the bathroom door shut behind him, Gohan stepped over to a small gleaming white toilet against the wall and lowered the lid, setting the cardboard box atop. He paused there, staring at the offending package, his curiosity finally becoming overwhelming. Realizing he couldn't postpone this madness for much longer, Gohan leaned down and ripped the interlocked flaps apart. His eyes widened as he reached inside, locating three small items within.

The lotion was quite curious.

The anal beads left a blush on his cheeks, while the cock-ring caused his breath to catch in his throat.

A wet tongue darted out, moistening dry lips. Obsidian eyes narrowed at the three objects in his hand while feet unconsciously moved towards the countertop. His gaze drifted up and the demi eyed his reflection curiously.

`…proper place on your person…'

Face burning red at the echo of Trunks' voice, Gohan sat down the three items, glaring at them as if they were responsible for his predicament. The inanimate objects smirked back up, mocking him arrogantly.

~*~

Boredom had engulfed the royal demi the very second he had stepped into the office. Stuffy men in old smelly suits surrounded the table, arguing over things in which only Trunks had control, but refused to offer or command any solutions. The board meetings were boring beyond belief, and Trunks had never attended. Gohan's sudden Ace of Spades, however, had caused Trunks to retreat and gather his defenses. It had been shocking, to say the least, but it also greatly unnerved Trunks. Gohan wasn't supposed to be able to fight back, and yet the darker demi had done just that.

Licking his lips, Trunks glanced up from his folded hands as a haughty redhead stepped into the office and circled the long glass table to lean down against Trunks' ear. "Dr. Son requests your presence, sir."

Gohan, on the other hand, was cowardly. Sitting back in his chair, Trunks grinned up at the thin-nosed woman. "Send him in."

The woman's little stud earrings gleamed beneath the sunlight from the large unobstructed windows when she nodded her head and turned, leaving just as quickly as the mousy redhead had come scampering in. Still as a statue, one ankle crossed over his knee, fingers intertwined and elbows on the arms of his chair, Trunks eyes were glued on the doorway. He wasn't forced to wait long before Gohan stepped into the room, eyes scanning quickly for dangers before landing on the only one that lurked in the shadows of that room: Trunks.

Smirking, the lilac-haired CEO rose to his feet, pacing calmly across the boardroom, hands clasped behind his back. In front of Gohan, he paused, eyes skimming up and down the posture of the young low-class half-warrior. Gohan met Trunks' gaze when azure eyes rose to his face. There they stood for long, drawn out moments, waiting for one of them to whisper, to snap, to swing a punch.

Trunks snickered.

Gohan blinked.

"Come on, Gohan," Trunks said in an almost cheerful teenage way, reaching down and grabbing his hand. Fingers intertwined almost instinctively, and Gohan was led across the room, blushing beneath the eyes that fell upon him. He kept up with Trunks' quick pace easily, pausing only as Trunks returned to his seat, and motioned Gohan to the empty chair at the end of the rectangular table, right at his side. There, Gohan slowly sat, wincing with the movement.

Cerulean eyes sparkled with victory as the young prince rubbed the hand that had, just seconds ago, touched Gohan's. The skin was slightly moist, and the aroma of scented lotion remained on his skin. Gohan sat awkwardly in the plush swivel chair, his legs spread apart and eyes downcast in mortification and shame.

`Someone has to lead you by the hand, Gohan.' Trunks smiled when Gohan's dark gaze again drifted to him, but he didn't speak the thoughts aloud. Turning, he waved to one of the standing human men to continue his presentation… or whatever the man had been doing before Gohan's entrance. After clearing his throat, the man did so, and Trunks' attention returned immediately to the elder demi that sat beside him, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair, eyes observing the speaker, eager to learn… or just to do anything that didn't involve the anal beads in his ass or the cock ring around his hardened shaft.

~*~

He hated this… Everything that existed and could be hated was.

Trunks knew, and he was enjoying every blissful moment of it. Pocketing the small bag that had been clenched in his fist, he paced over to the young demi-Saiyajin that sat, stiff as a board. It was kind of entertaining, watching a man that could fly tremble as he sat in a small chair of a plane. Scratching at his nose, Trunks smirked down at the elder male. "Something wrong?"

"Fuck off!" Gohan snarled under his breath.

"Not yet," Trunks snickered, sitting down on the arm of the chair, forcing Gohan to remove his hand. He stretched out his arm along the back of the plush velvet chair, looking down into dark glaring black eyes that were hidden behind thick frames. Somewhere amid the chaos of that afternoon, Gohan had relocated his glasses. They looked horrible on him, but Trunks would make sure to snatch them and throw them out the window of a very tall building soon. A Saiyajin didn't need glasses! If Gohan would stop straining his eyes, they would heal.

It had been hours since the meeting in the boardroom. Gohan and Trunks were currently heading to another long and boring presentation somewhere across the continent. They would spend a day or two there, then return. Gohan was accompanying Trunks as his… personal assistant. Well, that was what Gohan had been told.

Trunks smirked at the thought. Personal assistant was one way to describe it…

"How much longer."

It wasn't a question, but a snarled demand. Trunks raised a brow, glancing at the clock opposite of the duo. There was another three hours before the plane landed, and Gohan was obviously going to have a nervous breakdown before then. They could have flown themselves, of course, but Trunks had always suspected this little nervousness inside the elder demi. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Gohan. Knowledge was power.

"Long time," he responded with a smirk, noticing the clench of teeth and the narrow of dark brows. Leaning over the back of the chair, head resting against the soft material, he reached down, guiding his nails to scrape the back of Gohan's neck. In response, Gohan shivered, hissing quietly without realizing it. The nails reached the base of his neck, pausing just beneath the shirt, before running back up, relieving Gohan of every ounce of tension in his body. "Wh…at are you doing?" the whispered moan escaped from Gohan's lips.

"Taking care of my new pet," Trunks whispered breathlessly, sliding down to sit in Gohan's lap, one knee pressed against the stiff package beneath the leather. Pale lips traced along Gohan's jaw, nipping at every available inch of skin. Gohan shuddered, turning his head away with a dangerous growl. "Get off of me!" he snarled beneath his breath. Trunks smiled, leaning forward, resting his head in the crook of Gohan's arm. They were almost completely alone on the small private jet, but there was one waitress girl across the plane, smoking as she sat in the kitchenette, waiting to be summoned, and then the two pilots who flew the plane. Because of this, Gohan wouldn't make a scene, and Trunks was both glad and disappointed. He wanted to see just how violent the elder demi would get, but he was forced to admit the idea frightened him.

Trunks reached down between their bodies, hand cupping the bulge in replacement for his knee. "You haven't been out of my sight all afternoon, Gohan," he whispered, head rising so his lips would brush against Gohan's ear. "I bet those beads are uncomfortable," he sucked in the lobe, chewing gently on the loose skin. The arousal beneath the leather noticeably jumped when Trunks bit down, tasting faint droplets of blood running across his tongue.

Trunks purred contently, lapping at the droplets as the tiny wound healed. "A drugged candy," he whispered, savoring the shudder that erupted through the elder man, hand tightening around the leather. He slid up Gohan's body so he straddled one of Gohan's knees, rubbing his own growing ache against the leg. Gods, his body felt like it was on fire. He sighed quietly with a soft moan. Gohan was stiff against him, refusing to move in any way, nails digging into the arms of the chair once again. "Gohan…" Trunks mewed in his ear. "Is that cock ring giving you blue balls?" he demanded in a dark tone. Gohan winced visually at the question, lips pressed into a thin line.

Rage suddenly engulfed the demi prince. He sat back and shoved Gohan backwards, punching the spiky-haired warrior and savoring the strain of bones. "Answer me, damn it!" Trunks snarled before leaning forward again, pressing his knee between Gohan's legs until the warrior loudly yelped. Trunks crawled up over him, gazing down into deep, pain-filled eyes. "You will never ignore me, Gohan," Trunks threatened, fangs glistening in the bright, overhead lights. Beneath him, Gohan was tense, fear sparkling just briefly in his eyes before it was masked. It wasn't fast enough, though, and Trunks grinned deviously. His hand wrapped around the Son's throat, tightening until the elder demi began to grow flushed with the need for air. Hands encircled his throat, but without powering up to dangerous levels, he couldn't break free. "I'm your master, Gohan!" Trunks snarled loudly, not caring who may overhear. "You will acknowledge this!"

If Gohan had the air to speak, he would have spat in Trunks' face, but at that moment all he could do was stare into those mad azure eyes and find himself slightly lost. There was an almost desperateness in that dark shade, and he found himself not wanting to breathe… solely because Trunks didn't seem to want him to. He winced as the knee slid back slightly - by Trunks' will or by accident, he didn't know. Instead of being limp with pain, he was aroused beyond reason.

A ding echoed out the almost deadly silent cabin. The plane was landing. Trunks growled under his breath, standing up as the waitress girl walked in. "Sorry for the early stop, Mr. Briefs, Dr. Son. There is some minor engine trouble. Please, buckle your seatbelts."

Trunks fell into the empty chair beside Gohan as the girl turned, her short black skirt twirling with the movement, flashing her firm butt cheeks, and did as the woman asked. Annoyed cerulean eyes shifted to the dazed Gohan. "Buckle your belt."

A tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. Hands slid down to the belt edges that rested on either side of the demi. "Yes… Master."

~*~

(Flashback…)

Diseases, addictions, and illusions… three very different things, but three things that always seem to be so closely intertwined.

Gohan sat at the foot of his bed, staring at the floor.

Life seemed to be the disease, and it was incurable. The addiction was the method of freedom… and the illusion was the denial of the addiction.

Blood dripped from his wrist, staining the hardwood floors.

The scene was not unfamiliar. He sat in a daze, waiting for his wife to return from the hospital. The miscarriage had happened days before he was able to return, and Videl was still there. The doctors said she was suicidal. She refused to see anyone except Trunks, Goten, and her father. Gohan had the worst feeling in the pit of his stomach that his father-in-law was going to persuade Videl to leave him, but he could do nothing about it. Without Videl's permission, the nurses wouldn't let Gohan in, especially not in his wife's condition. He was stuck here, in his bedroom, alone and so cold.

For a man with all the power in the universe, all the intelligence that a man, Saiyajin, or hybrid could possess, how could he be so lost? The dark path that Gohan had found himself walking was terrifying, and he could do nothing but stand completely still and listen to the caw of the ravens that hungrily eyed his blackened soul.

He'd been here before, sitting on the edge of his bed. It had been a different bed, one with characters of favorite Saturday morning cartoons. It had been on different days, when the sun shone outside, and there was no kid brother hopping around like a mad kangaroo throughout the house, wanting to cause chaos and destruction just for the fun of doing so.

Things had been easier back then, and yet, for some reason, when he was a child, the world had seemed so desperate. Without his father, Gohan had felt lost. There had been no one to guide him through the insanity of the universe. Because of this, he'd spent the mornings and the nights sitting on his bed… as still as he could be, sometimes even holding his breath and listening to his heartbeat until the sound nearly drove him mad. It was then, when he couldn't take the steady throbs, he'd grabbed the sharpest thing closest to him and had slit his wrist. The blood loss had been great, and for hours he had been unconscious, only to wake up the next morning dizzy and hungry. His attempt had failed, and it would not be the last.

He had failed to save Videl. He had failed to save the planet. He had failed to save his father. He'd failed to save his unborn baby.

Gohan was a failure.

There was no way to look around the fact that stared him in the face every time he walked outside to face the world. No one really seemed to notice the difference that had happened after Chikyuu had been wished back, but to Gohan, the electricity in the air, the sharp change in the purity of oxygen was a constant reminder of the fact he was worthless and helpless.

He sensed the ki before the door swung opened, and with his Saiyajin speed he had just enough time to jump to his feet, hands behind his back to hide not only the cut, but also the blade in his fist. Trunks appeared in the doorway, cigarette burning between his lips. "Hey, man," the demi said, scratching at his nose with a polite nod. "Guys `ave `een lookin' for ya." The words were slurred together, so much unlike the proper, lilac-haired prince. Fingers swept through silky hair, shoving it back away from his face, revealing cloudy azure eyes. "Talked with Videl a bit ago. She say she ready to see ya, Gohan." Trunks nodded, blowing smoke from his nose.

Watching the strange display, Gohan's hand tightened around the blade in terror of the mere idea of confronting his wife. The blade pierced the skin of his palm, and he felt the warm wetness flow and drip to the floor behind him. He couldn't refuse to see Videl, though. She needed him, even if he was worthless. Perhaps when all of this was over, he would offer her a divorce. Gohan nodded. "Thank you, Trunks. I'll go to the hospital after I change clothes."

Trunks nodded, glancing towards the open doorway behind him, gaze unsure. "Right… yeah, I'll… uh…" He nodded again, his movements rushed and confused. Taking the cigarette from between his lips, he turned and stepped out into the hallway, glancing back briefly, blinking. "Things to do, lives to lead… yeah… see you, Gohan."

Gohan stared at the empty hallway in confusion until he heard the front door close.

~*~

Bland black eyes stared forward through large windows, watching a world that only existed when he blinked and the darkness enclosed. Lips were chapped and dry. All spoken words fell on deaf ears. Across the room, sitting in silence, Trunks watched the statuesque Gohan, completely ignoring all the business that occurred around him.

It had been a day since the previous afternoon, in which Gohan finally verbally submitted to the lilac-haired prince. Nothing had occurred between them since then, except for the few hard gropes and purred sultry promises. Gohan had been alone during the night in the motel room solely because Trunks had been dragged away to a conference. Refusing to spend any more time away from the darker demi, Trunks had thrown a dark gray business suit on Gohan and dragged him to this board meeting.

Neither demi wanted to be here for a moment longer. Trunks wasn't sure he had the patience to sustain the cruel and unusual torture that was being committed by this massive amount of boredom. The steady beat of a pen against wood echoed out from the ningen beside the prince, dimming the speaker's voice and putting Trunks on edge. Sitting forward, elbows against the cool surface of the table, Trunks rested his chin in one hand and stared intensely at Gohan.

The elder demi didn't even blink.

It was frightening, this death that seemed to have engulfed the eldest Son. Trunks allowed his eyes to trace and memorize every curve of the dark demi. The jacket was a bit big and hung off Gohan's bones. His cheeks were unnaturally pale, and his eyes… those beautiful lively eyes were shadows of their former selves.

A sudden ring caused Trunks to nearly jump out of his seat. Shaking his head with a glare, Trunks removed the phone from within his coat pocket, completely aware that Gohan's eyes were locked on him. Returning the glare that the other board members were giving him, Trunks took a few steps to the corner of the room as he answered the phone.

"Trunks? Finally! I've been trying to call you all afternoon!" Bura's cheerful voice echoed through. Trunks winced at her happiness. "Where are you? What are you doing? Don't you remember mother's birthday party is tomorrow? Trunks! Are you there?"

"I'm here, I'm here," he muttered, shoving back the annoying lilac strands of hair that hung in his face, gazing at Gohan longingly, though the demi probably believed it was a glare. "No, Bura, I didn't remember about Mom's party, and I won't be coming. You know, she's going to be pissed at you for throwing it. I'm busy at the moment, at a meeting. I'll call later, all right."

Disappointment was evident in Bura's voice, but Trunks could almost see his baby sister nodding and glancing away. She wasn't used to not getting her way, but when it came to Trunks, she knew better than to press matters. She didn't have her older brother wrapped around her pinky like their parents were… much to her dismay. "Okay, Trunks. I'll be waiting." Both of them knew he would never return the promised phone call. Nodding, Trunks turned off the phone and sighed at the expectant gaze of the boring ningen.

"Sorry gentlemen, I must be going." Why waste this opportunity? Trunks smirked at Gohan with a devious glint in his eye.

~*~

Roses sat idly in a crystal vase in the corner, drinking in late afternoon sunlight seeping through the lace curtains. Sofas were covered with velvet, bed sheets in soft blue silk.

The room screamed class.

Leather shoes were kicked off as expensive suits were ripped off and thrown aside, landing in pools on the smooth waxed wooden floor. Breaths came in desperate, ragged pants. Mouths met fiercely, tongues battled for power and hands wrestled, removing the annoyance fabrics. Then a lithe body was shoved down onto the soft mattress, hips straddled. Their arousals brushed together. Whimpered moans echoed out as hands stroked and caressed.

Dark dead eyes gazed upward, lips parted in unspoken words. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Sparkling azure eyes met the lifelessness. It had not faded. There was a deadening silence between the two, and it could not be conquered, no matter how hard the younger demi tried. Gohan lay beneath him … and yet there was nothing. He was not sure this was what he wanted.

Trunks desperately tried to cross the bridge that had been subconsciously built between them. Lips were so close- he had to get across! Leaning forward over the darker warrior he pressed their chests together. There was no way he could survive if they weren't standing together. He brushed his lips against Gohan's mouth, feeling the confused, submissive response of loosened skin and warm breath.

"I want you, Gohan," he whispered against that mouth.

"Take me."

The ropes of the bridge broke beneath his feet, and Trunks was falling into the river of nothingness. His father would have mocked the hopelessness inside the young prince. His mother would have petted him on the head, beamed inanely, and told him to move on… But Gohan remained beneath him, chest rising in falling against the heat that both their bodies were engulfed in, still refusing to meet his gaze. He found himself trapped between need and desire, and though the two things seemed so close, they were so far away.

Hands extended upwards, wrapping around his shoulders, drawing him down against the body beneath him. Long legs wrapped around his body, drawing their libidos together and sending shivers throughout each of them. Was this bliss or torture? Trunks couldn't decide as the warm mouth connected with his. Perhaps it was a mixture of both… a taste of bliss in Hell, just so he would know what he was missing. Wouldn't it be better to never taste the forbidden fruit, to consider the possibility that it wasn't as sweet as it smelled? Or was it better to be lost in lust for what was never supposed to be?

The answer was more than obvious to the royal demi when he was thrown on his back. Gohan was rolling atop him, one hand fisting the pale sheets as the other gripped his silky lilac hair, pulling their mouths together hungrily. Lust was what drove any being with Saiyajin blood… the lust for the unachievable, lust for power, for sex, for blood, for violence… lust ruled… and yet, for Gohan, it did not.

Pain was the emperor of the Saiyajin within him.

Trunks slugged the elder demi as they broke the kiss, sending Gohan flying across the room to land with a thud on the hardwood floors. Shaking away the lust-filled haze that his mind had become, Trunks gazed at the object of his lust, watching with fascination as Gohan licked the blood that dripped from his split lip. Why didn't Gohan rise to the challenge? Why didn't he struggle to maintain his dignity and honor? Could it be possible that, for all these years, Vejita had been right? Gohan had no Saiyajin instincts in him at all. He knew nothing about who or what he was, and everything that burned in his blood had long ago been extinguished.

Human… lost… confused… yet the pain brought out the Saiyajin inside.

Slowly, those dark eyes rose upwards, meeting Trunks' narrowed angry gaze with a sick smile.

There had never been anything to connect Gohan with who he truly was. Trunks felt a strange sense of sympathy as he stared at the defeated Son. Rising from the bed, he crossed the room and knelt down in front of Gohan, reaching out and reclaiming those sweet, perfect lips that sent waves of emotion and surety through his soul. He felt Gohan press against the wall, and smirked against his lips, sliding between his legs, hand wrapping around the shaft. There was one thing that had never been severed between Gohan and his Saiyajin side… pain.

He broke their kiss and licked his way up Gohan's jaw, nipping the loose skin of the elder's ear. "Gohan," he breathed huskily, savoring the shiver that he earned. "Gohan… do you…" His words were cut off with a loud moan as Gohan's fist circled his own thick manhood, stroking in time with Trunks' movement.

"Trunks…" Gohan pleaded breathlessly, pale skin flushed with need.

"Gohan…" prince purred as he suddenly grabbed the sides of Gohan's face, hands burning with the faint electricity of his ki. Gohan stiffened against the sensation, with wide obsidian eyes. Trunks licked his lips and grinned darkly. "Gohan… I need to know… do you… do you want this… this pain?" He leaned forward, brushing their mouths together gently, power in his hands growing, becoming tangible, and turning Gohan's skin red. "I can give you pain, Gohan." Trunks tired to convince himself that his words didn't sound desperate, but he would be naïve if he believed it. "Please… Gohan… do you want it?"

Hands rose to cover Trunks'. Lifeless black eyes briefly twinkled. There was no verbal response, but the small spark gave Trunks enough hope. Lips met. Tongues battled. Nails scraped skin. Blood was drawn from pale flesh. Trunks could actually feel the nervous, excited pounding of his heart. Gohan was shoved to the floor, Trunks straddling his hips, leaning down, their mouths barely separated to breath.

The hot scent of blood and lust filled Trunks' lungs. He shuddered as his tongue ran across the pale skin of Gohan's cheek; the sweet taste ricocheted through his senses. Years of quiet moaning in his bedroom while seeing the face beneath him caught up in a blink of an eye, and he ripped himself from the lips, grabbing Gohan's hips and yanking them up, positioning himself over the dry entrance.

No more wanting. No more waiting. No more.

Droplets of blood stained the wooden floors. A dazed purr left Trunks as he felt Gohan's hands in his hair, struggling to pull their bodies together. But nothing, especially not brute force, could persuade the lilac-haired prince in any manner. With a low growl, Trunks shoved Gohan's upper half back onto the ground, thrusting his hips forward. Tight heat surrounded him, and in the blink of an eye, blackness had engulfed Trunks' vision. He cried out, his scream intermingling with sobs of agony that echoed from the depths of Gohan's soul.

Gohan's voice cracked almost desperately as a sound became futile attempt at Trunks' name. Cloudy azure eyes struggled to focus, a soft hand reaching out, running across the flushed cheek of the teary-eyed demi beneath him. As if his touch was a serpent's kiss, Gohan jerked back and glared. The obsidian look filled with hate said it all.

Trunks found himself gritting his teeth, eyes narrowing into a familiar, practiced expression.

His palm coiled around Gohan's arousal, tightening softly. He tossed his dark head back with a whimper, teeth glistening in the dim light of the bedroom. A gentle breeze wafted through from an opened window, making long silk curtains to sway, and sending shivers through the interlocked figures. Lilac hair blew across soft skin, briefly coming between their stare down, as a sneer crossed Trunks' lips, and his hands grabbed Gohan's shoulders roughly, yanking him forward then slamming him down on the floors, savoring the sound of his cracking skull.

"You want the pain?" he spat. "Take it!" The scent of blood filing his nostrils made him snort. His hand circled Gohan's throat, holding the bloody head down as he thrust forward, into the depths of the demi-Saiyajin's tight entrance. Skin rubbing against skin, his large shaft in the tiny, tight entrance, the scent of blood filled the room, overpowering the sweetness of the afternoon breeze… It made him shiver, made his eyes cloudy, made his system scream for more… more power, more blood, more stimulation to sate his addiction.

He fell over Gohan, feeling the darker male's knees pressing against his hips, urging him forward. He panted, just like Gohan, whose breath described itself in puffs on his cheek. Trunks gazed down at the whimpering, moaning figure beneath him, and felt tightness in his chest. He shuddered and a wet tongue darted out, licking his lips before lowering to kiss Gohan.

"You see? I'll give you all the pain you want, Gohan… but everything has a price."

Hazy eyes, filled with astonishment and anger, met his azure. Trunks offered a kind, yet mischievous smile… one that only a Saiyajin prince could possess. "Pain comes at the price of pleasure."

Hands stroked… hips thrust… moans echoed through the room. Cries were released between desperate, confused kisses. Mouths were tasted; sobs were swallowed to quench the craving. Nails raked skin. Droplets of fresh blood fell to stain the already ruined floor.

Harsh touches bruised pale skin. Tears stained eyes, but were not permitted to trace their paths on flushed cheeks. Cries became desperate moans as the two once-warriors forgot about civilization.

Trunks fell limp against Gohan as he reached cried with climax. Gohan's sticky mess between them ignored for the brief moment. The warmth of the elder demi left him comforted, relaxed and, for once in his life, satisfied.

The afternoon sun descended as the two slept peacefully. Their cravings, for the moment, were no longer raging.

To Be Continued…