Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ménage ❯ Scandalous ( Chapter 7 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Warning: Explicit scenes. You have been warned.

A month exactly before the start of term, Goten sat in the waiting room of the highly-rated family therapist, Dr. Mitchell, quietly listening to music through headphones and staring blearily at a page of an old magazine. The doctor and Goten's family were in their second week of their weekly family counseling sessions, and Goten was having an extremely hard time keeping his eyes open while he waited for his turn to be questioned.

He had been spending entire nights at the castle behind his parent's back since that fateful weekend he discovered what the true meaning of the journal was. He was determined to figure out the meaning of the symbols, unfortunately, once Trunks found out what Vegeta had said the book was about, he lost most of his interest. The other problem was, Trunks was pretty much Goten's only hope of getting the book translated, since Trunks had next to nothing to do all day, and Goten did not, courtesy of his mother.

Still, Trunks worked, if only to please Goten. Much to Goten's annoyance, however, the work was slow, as Trunks wanted to make sure that there were no mistakes, and he was easily distracted. While Goten wanted to make headway on the translating, his boyfriend wanted to make-out.

Goten felt bad about being negligent to Trunks' wants and needs, but learning first-hand how Saiyan life was took up his entire interest. One could say that it was thanks to Vegeta that this little obsession had occurred. If it hadn't been for the fact that Vegeta was so generous with his help, Goten wouldn't be leaving Trunks frustrated, and he would have the sleep he required.

He actually found it quite strange that Vegeta was so willing to help. Was it that he was happy that someone took interest in Saiyan heritage? Whatever it was, Goten couldn't help but think about that night.

Goten stood meekly beside the Saiyan prince, who was running a forefinger along the spines of organized books on an eye-level shelf in the castle's vast library. He watched quietly as Vegeta chose two books: one about as thick and broad as a school text book, the other looked much like a dictionary with tabs on the outside of the pages.

Their search for a Saiyan-to-Common translation guide was uncomfortably quiet, at least in Goten's opinion. Goten felt as if he should say something to the older man, but he assumed that Vegeta preferred to work in silence. That still didn't stop the fact that he was bursting at the seams with questions of Saiyan heritage, if there were any inter-galactic wars, and even King Vegeta's rise to power.

Barely another minute passed, and urge to speak became unbearable; he decided to take his chances, since Vegeta was willing to help him so far. "Can you understand what's in that book?" He asked, "I-I mean without them translators."

"Those translators," Vegeta corrected without thinking and without looking away from the text book-like translator he was examining, "And, yes," He finally closed the book and handed the lot to Goten, "Though it has been decades since I've done anything that requires my knowledge of the Saiyan culture and all its intricacies, I still remember everything vividly."

For once, since he was a young child, Goten felt a small spark of admiration for the prince. Goten was so sure that, in Vegeta's sentence, the man was speaking about more than just learning standard school-stuff and Saiyan basic training, he was talking about his experiences as an elite warrior. This, to him, was truly moving, though Vegeta has all but renounced the Saiyan way, and he, Goten, personally wants nothing to do with being a warrior.

Though he held conflicting opinions about Vegeta, he knew that the prince was a deeper person than he allows most to perceive. Most of their friends and acquaintances viewed Vegeta as nothing more than an ex-killer with a superiority complex, reclusive nature, and a foul temper. However, what they all have overlooked was that Vegeta was more than just a ruthless killer, he was a veteran; a veteran that has seen (and caused) more deaths that would drive a much weaker man, like himself, completely insane. What Vegeta had more-than-likely been through was, and is still very much considered, in society to date, highly abnormal.

Quite frankly, Goten was impressed that Vegeta still possessed as much stability as he does. That is not to say, of course, that Goten thought that the prince was completely sane. One would have to be slightly insane to have gone through the emotional and mental upheaval that any of the old Saiyan veterans were demanded to go through.

"You don't have to just stand there," Vegeta said, interrupting Goten's thoughts, "You've got what you wanted, so, unless you have something else you need, you may leave."

"I-I'm sorry," Goten apologized, "I guess I'm just amazed at how much no one knows about the Saiyans, much less about you." He then shut his mouth quickly, afraid that he was getting too bold. If its one thing his mother taught him during his very humble upbringing, it was modesty and humility (though he didn't use these redeeming qualities one hundred percent of the time).

"Well its about time someone showed some interest in the proud Saiyan heritage," He gave a small, amused smile, "And you will find that this journal that you hold in your arms is rich in information about us Saiyans, particularly concerning and inside look the nobles of our race. You see, this book contains the annals of my father and his reign of supremacy until his death."

Needless to say, Goten was stunned. A chance to learn the secrets and complexities of the Saiyan lifestyle from the king of Saiyans himself was really quite exciting. He looked from the book to Vegeta, unable to hide his awe; the only response he was able to come up with was a quiet, "That's awesome."

His expression faltered under the slightly intrigued look on Vegeta's face. He had no clue what to make of it, but he knew that he had to look quite stupid staring back with nothing to say except, "Uh..."

"Right," Vegeta said, breaking the eye-contact, "Well, you have what you want, so I'll be leaving." He turned to walk off, but Goten impulsively reached out and laid a hand on Vegeta's shoulder to stop him.

"I-I just wanna thank you," Goten said quickly upon seeing Vegeta's slightly impatient expression. He then quickly pulled his hand back, almost as if he were burned.

"And so you have," Vegeta responded with a small, polite nod. His eyes briefly scanned the teen before him before leaving out of sight, leaving Goten slightly puzzled, yet excited nonetheless.

A gentile hand was placed on Goten's shoulder, breaking him from his reverie. He followed the hand up the arm until he fond himself looking up at his mother.

"My turn?" He asked, sliding the headphones down around his neck.

Chi-Chi nodded. She was still obviously upset at Goku for not showing up after promising to, but not quite as upset as before. She seemed to have gotten a lot off of her mind. "Just be open with him," She said, "He's one of the best, and you don't want to waste his time."

"And I'm not five," Goten replied jokingly, standing up, "I got this, don't worry," He reassured, laying the old magazine down and walking through the doorway that Chi-Chi had just exited.

He entered the spacious, impeccably neat office with a great window's view of the city below. He loved the view ever since his first appointment with the doctor. If he could, he'd stare out of that window all day.

"Good afternoon," Came the smart, professional baritone of Dr. Mitchell, "Please, sit down, if you will," He said, gesturing at a small chair situated across from the wide, dark wood desk placed in the center of the room before the windows. Goten could see why his mother seemed so excited about the doctor. He was handsome, in a dignified sort of way, and sharply dressed, not a crease out of place in his suit; his dark, faintly grayed hair was perfectly parted at the side, so not a single bald spot showed; everything about the guy screamed order and perfection, qualities Chi-Chi admired.

"I do not wish to rush," Dr. Mitchell said, "But my talk with your mother lasted longer than anticipated. So, last week we ended with you mentioning your mother's disapproval of your best friend, er, Trunks, I believe you said his name was?"

"Yes, sir," Goten responded politely, but then remained quiet afterward. He knew about the doctor-patient confidentiality policy, but that didn't quell the mistrust he still had for the stranger sitting before him. Also, the quiet, cool-colored setting was making him extremely drowsy.

"Right, and why do you think she has done this, Goten?"

At the sound of his name, Goten broke out of his miniature daze, "Done what...sir? Oh, about me and Trunks not seeing each other? Well, she thinks Trunks is very rude and a bad influence on me." He then placed an elbow on the arm of his chair and propped his heavy-feeling head in his palm. He blinked sleepily up at the doctor, waiting for him to respond.

"That is a very general explanation. Forgive me for saying so, but you aren't quite as chatty as you were last week. You seem to not be getting enough rest."

"Summer coursework has been r-r-rough," Goten yawned.

"Pulling all-nighters?"

"Yeah, I-" Then the teen blinked and straightened his sitting posture, "No disrespect, but what exactly are you getting at?"

"You're sneaking out at night; and there's no use trying to deny it. I've seen it plenty of times; parents forbid their child from seeing a friend, then suddenly the child is out later, and tired more often than usual." His mouth then twitched into a sort of smile, "But do not worry, I am forbidden by law to say anything to anyone."

Goten couldn't hide his expression of relief, "Alright, ya got me," He threw his hands up in form of surrender, followed by a lazy grin, "Yeah, I've been seein' him. Mom'll kill me, though, if she ever finds out. I mean, I really don't see the issue. Sure he tried to get me to elope with hi-" He then shut his mouth, feeling that he said too much. How was he to know if the doctor was against same-sex relationships?

The doctor smiled again, "To be quite frank, Goten, you aren't going to say anything that's going to shock me. Trust me, I've seen it all. I am merely here to listen and make a professional judgment on how best to help your family's particular case, not to judge you on your personal preferences."

For the rest of their shortly-cut session, which lasted a grueling forty-five minutes, Goten answered the questions to the best of his abilities. He knew that these sessions were a big deal, and his mother was having to scrape up every dime she could to pay for such an exclusive doctor, but his attentiveness was waning with his capability to stay awake.

Still, the doctor was able to find out quite a bit about Goten and his rocky relationship with Trunks. He did, however notice that Goten still had enough sense to deliberately skirt around mentioning Goku. It seemed that Goku was a particularly sensitive subject, and the boy had no comment as to why his father never showed up.

While wrapping things up, he stressed the importance of Goku attending the next meeting, being that he had to talk with him privately before talking to all three of them together. He also made mention to Chi-Chi that he could talk to Goku at home if he absolutely refuses to come to La Porte, the city where his office is.

-0-

Back at the castle, the missing person in question, Goku, was busy hiding there. Midway through the flight to La Porte, Goku used his IT to disappear, then reappear inside of the outside of the castle. Normally, the castle's protective enchantments kept out Apparators and other unwelcome guests, but the spells didn't register IT, since performing that skill requires ki, not magic.

"I really don't like this therapy guy, Vegeta," Goku whined as he tailed behind Vegeta, both of whom were walking across the gardens to the hall.

"Then tell your wife that you don't want to go, and stop being a bitch about it!" Vegeta ground out, stepping through the open glass door, "Honestly, if I wasn't fucking you, I'd have to question whether you had balls or not."

Goku's face turned bright red, coupled with a spark of annoyance, "I'd have to say the same thing about you from them baby punches you were throwing at me earlier when we were fightin'."

Vegeta turned around, narrowing his eyes dangerously, "What the fuck was that?" He stepped closer to Goku, who was standing in the threshold with the glass door still open, "Baby punches? I'd have to kick your ass for that,"

"Well, then, why don't you?" Goku challenged, bringing himself to full height, ready to fight.

"Because, I have to get ready to go somewhere!" The prince hissed through gritted teeth, losing his edge.

Goku felt as though a balloon deflated inside of him; his face fell into a pathetic simper, "Why?" He all but whined, finally stepping completely inside and shutting the door.

"It's honestly none of your business," The older man said stiffly, "But," He continued seeing the annoyingly weak look on Goku's face, "If you just have to know, Bulma has business to take care of, and I must go for appearances."

"So, does that mean I have to go home?"

"That is entirely up to you, but you cannot stay here, because no one will be here." Vegeta then sighed, "I highly suggest you man-up and face your wife. I have told you numeral times before that you shouldn't let some bitch tell you what to do. You are a Saiyan, after all."

Goku bit his bottom lip, momentarily lost in thought. His dark brown eyes met with Vegeta's, "How do you make it work with Bulma?" He asked rather quietly, as if he were afraid to ask.

"We didn't, and we still don't," Vegeta responded, "You are evidence of that. But we are merely able to coexist simply because of our high-profile careers. Surely you know better than to try to compare your relationship to mine."

The younger Saiyan didn't know what to say. It was very true that Vegeta and Bulma's relationship could not be compared to his own and Chi-Chi's mostly because of their lifestyles. It was like comparing apples to oranges. Each women had different methods on how to deal with being married to Saiyan men, despite the fact that these methods didn't work.

"I dunno what to think anymore," Goku finally said after a moment's silence, "I dunno what I want."

Vegeta scrutinized Goku, "Just so that we are clear," He said seriously, "I have no intention on leaving my wife for anyone else, despite our current situation."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Goku replied in equal seriousness.

-0-

Yamcha walked into the view of Bulma full-length mirror holding a dazzling gold necklace up to the equally as dazzling woman it belonged to, "Is this the one you wanted?" He asked uncertainly.

Bulma smiled, "Yeah, that's the one," She answered, tossing the long, spirally hair extensions (that she spent hours at the salon for) over her shoulder so that her neck was exposed.

"You look incredible tonight," Yamcha said softly, taking Bulma's hint and encircling her neck with the necklace, "Makes me wish I was your date."

"Its not a date," The woman laughed, tossing her hair back in place, "Its just for business reasons. If all goes well tonight, my company will have a break-through in sales."

"But isn't that what you have sales people hired for?" The ex-bandit asked, sliding his hands over Bulma's shoulders and down her arms.

Bulma spun around so that she was facing her lover, "Of course I wouldn't put myself out like this if it were for any Joe-Schmo client, but this is the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar foreign computer-parts corporation. If we can sway him to use our products as packaging for his products, our profits will increase tremendously."

"Oh, so that's why you've chosen this particular dress!" Yamcha teased, indicating the backless dark-blue halter dress that Bulma wore so fittingly. To add to the effect, he prodded the swell of the woman's breast with his forefinger.

"Stop it, you immature jock!" Bulma laughed, slapping away the offending hand, "And no I didn't wear this to show off for the guy! I just wanted to show off for Vegeta!"

Yamcha sucked in his breath and rolled his eyes, "Figures. Well why you're off showing your tits off for someone you supposedly hate, I'll be out as well."

"I was just kidding!" Bulma insisted. Normally, that sort of remark would incite an argument of epic-proportions, but Bulma was in too much of a good mood to let even Yamcha's attitude upset her. "Anyway," She continued, stepping closer to Yamcha, purposely pressing her chest against him, "Maybe I'll let you take it off of me sometime..." She stood on her bare toes, wrapped her arms around her lover's neck and gazed up at him.

"Can't we do it now?" Yamcha asked a little impatiently, smiling playfully and placing his hands upon either side of Bulma's waist, pulling her tighter against him. His eyes quickly darted down to the full breasts pressed against him, then back up to their owner's eyes.

"Pervert," She said, placing a red-stained kiss on the side of Yamcha's face, "You'll have to wait until later, because I have to go make sure that Trunks is ready so we can leave."

"Oh, you're bringing him, too? I thought it was just going to be you and Vegeta?"

"I want him to go because I think he'd appreciate feeling included," Bulma said, checking her reflection and re-applying her signature bright-red lipstick. After she was certain she was of satisfactory appearance, she sat down on her bed and strapped her feet into a pair of uncomfortable-looking, shiny black heels.

"Right," She said, standing up and checking the time on her phone, "Text me whenever you're done doing whatever," She said, "I'm assuming you're going out with Turles again?"

"Yeah," Yamcha mumbled, knowing that Turles was still a rather tender subject around Bulma, "I dunno what he's all got planned."

"Well, just don't do anything stupid," Bulma laughed, grabbing Yamcha's face in her hand and bringing him down for a swift kiss, "Don't forget to get up with me later, okay?"

"I won't," Yamcha promised, kissing his lover before she left the room. She heard Yamcha close the door behind him as she walked down the hall in the opposite direction of him. Her flowing dress danced around her knees as she walked briskly walked down the hall, the sound of her thin heels echoing through the spacious corridor as they hit the floor.

-0-

At the other end of the castle, Trunks pushed himself away from the tedious task of translating the journal that he was no longer interested in. It wouldn't be half as bad if the symbols weren't so similar, the words weren't so complicated, and if Goten weren't so damned obsessed with it.

He looked over at the expensive maroon and black dinner suit that his mother had purchased from a high-end shop in the city. He wasn't at all looking forward to a night out with his parents, and he had expressed his protest quite loudly to his mother earlier. Needless to say, she still stood her ground.

Just as he lifted the suit so he could remove the protective plastic film off of it, he heard the sound of his unlocked bedroom door opening, then shutting softly. His temper flared, thinking it was his mother, and he whirled around saying, "Ever heard of knocking?"

"Leave your door locked, then." The intruder retorted coldly.

Trunks' fierce expression suddenly softened upon seeing who had entered his room. It was none other than Seventeen, and he had just ruined a what could have been a pleasant greeting. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry," He said sincerely, "I didn't know you were coming back here."

"Then check your phone more often, you jerk," Seventeen said, playfully pushing against Trunks' chest.

Trunks sighed, "I had it turned off so Goten wouldn't have the urge to call me. Its bad enough I have to go somewhere," He gestured dramatically at the suit, "when I don't wanna. I don't need him whining about that stupid book or his stupid therapy."

"Well, isn't that too bad?" Seventeen said in mock-disappointment, "I was gonna ask you to go out with me tonight."

Trunks' eyes widened slightly, "L-like go on a date with you?"

Seventeen shrugged and smiled, "If you want it to be a date," He then took Trunks' hand in his and looked teasingly at the teen's mouth, "Agree to be my boyfriend tonight, and I'll show you a good time."

A faint blush formed across the half-Saiyan's nose as the older man's proximity to him increased, "But what about Raditz?"

"What about him?" Seventeen said, taking a step back, "Would you honestly pass up on a chance to have the best night you'll ever have at an exclusive party...for that?" He jabbed his finger at the clothes on Trunks' bed as if they were something indecent.

Trunks could feel his mother's presence drawing nearer. He really did want to take Seventeen up on his amazing offer, but he also knew his mother wouldn't take the news of him going out with a guy like that instead of making her look good for her clients. Still, he didn't have much time, so he did the first thing that came to mind: "I'll go with you." He said.

"Perfect," Seventeen replied with a charming smile, "I'll come get you when its time to leave," He continued, walking toward the door. He then stopped and turned halfway, "Oh, and whoever chose that color for you to wear needs to be shot on sight."

Not two seconds after Seventeen had left the room, Bulma entered, looking not quite as cheerful as she did the first time she visited.

"What was he doing in here?" She asked, though the question sounded more like a demand, "And secondly, why aren't you dressed?"

Trunks sucked in his breath and looked at the ceiling in exasperation, "He just wanted to tell me something, didn't he?" He groaned, "What the fuck ever! And I don't wanna go to that lame dinner! I wanna do something fun since I've got school in just a month!"

"You know how important this is!" Bulma expressed, "And we need to leave, like, now! Your father is waiting in the foyer, and you know how he doesn't like waiting!"

"Mom, the most fun I've had this summer has been going to Magic tournaments and sitting around the house not doing shit! Don't take away this awesome chance to actually do something with cool people!"

Bulma checked the time on her phone, "I really don't like this, Trunks," She said, shaking her head, "But, time is short, and I don't want to argue further. I'll trust you to go this once," She held her hand up, as Trunks grinned broadly and looked as if he were about to interrupt, "However, whatever trouble you get into, you will have to sort out on your own."

"I won't let anything happen," Trunks promised, allowing his mother to kiss him on the side of the face. He knew his mother was completely bluffing when she said that he would have to sort out his own problems. Him getting in trouble would make his mother look bad, and she never lets anything incriminating leak out into the public thanks to her many connections and a seemingly endless supply of pay-off money.

His heart raced with excitement as he chose something to wear once his mother left. He could only imagine what kind of party Seventeen had invited him to, being that the only one's he's ever attended were his mother and father's business-related ones.

He didn't think that Goten would be showing up later, either, being that last time they were together, they fought over how they spend their time together. Finally, Trunks was going to be included with possibly all of the city's A-List citizens, which totally beats a night of translating, card-playing, and singing anime karaoke. For once, he was going to be appreciated for his status, and not seen as just some bratty, stuck-up, latch-key kid. Having a hot guy at his side wasn't a bad perk, either.

-0-

"Where's the boy?" Vegeta asked when he saw his dolled-up wife finally enter the foyer.

"He's not coming," Bulma responded, "Says he's got other plans," She smiled pleasantly at her husband, who was wearing a simple black suit that did nothing to aid his fierce looks; on the contrary, he looked even more intimidating.

"No matter," The prince replied airily, "We need to get going if we're going to get to our reserved table in time."

Bulma nodded and followed her husband outside. "We're going in a capsule-plane, because I'll mess my hair up flying with you."

Vegeta said nothing, but looked at his wife who was readying a capsulated air-craft. The elbow-length lazy spirals of hair aided her in appearing no older than the day he met her. It has been quite a while since he had really taken notice of her; thanks to her mother's genetics, and the resources to use only the latest in exercise gear and dieting regimes, she was able to retain most of her youthful looks.

"Do you wanna fly, or do you want me to?" She asked, breaking Vegeta's train of thought.

"It doesn't matter," Vegeta said, walking toward the passenger's seat entrance. Bulma rolled her eyes and climbed the steps to the pilot's side of the craft.

Minutes later, they were rising steadily into the air. They flew over the darkening forest in silence; Bulma was unsure as to how to strike-up a conversation, being that this was their first time going out alone together in an incredibly long time. Vegeta, however, was indifferent to the silence, as he just wanted to get the whole ordeal over with.

Of course, however, Bulma, unable to keep her mouth shut for long, had to break the silence, "I saw what you did back there." She said with a smug smile.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, "If this is another one of your stupid accusatory speeches about Kakarrot and I, I'm not interested in conversing with you."

"No, no, I wasn't going to say anything about that," The woman said in her defense, "I was talking about that look you gave me earlier."

"What fucking look? I didn't give you a look."

"You think I look good tonight. Admit it, after all the people you sleep around with, you still find me attractive."

"I never once said I didn't find you attractive. If I had thought that about you, you'd have known it."

Bulma smiled to herself, unable to stop the urge. So Vegeta still found her sexy, eh? That was something she would never expect considering both of their present circumstances. Also, her helping Chi-Chi out with getting family therapy started had brought back old thoughts of the chance of actually salvaging her own family.

"You look good, as well, Vegeta," She said, glancing long enough to catch a "don't push it" look from her husband. "Don't be such a hard-ass," She continued, "Everyone loves a compliment." She ended her encouraging words with a trademark flirty wink.

-0-

"He's a whiny little kid!" Raditz griped as he followed Seventeen down the corridor leading toward Trunks' room.

"You're whining," Seventeen responded flatly, "And, besides, you're the one who said you can't go because you're spending the day in Hicksville with your brother tomorrow."

"But out of all the people to ask out, you ask a fucking toddler-actin' sissy-boy!"

"I like him," the smaller man said with a smile, "And I'm looking forward to having a fun night with him."

"You're lookin' to fuck him, is what you're doin'." The Saiyan said moodily, flicking his tail in agitation.

Seventeen's smile widened at the thought of how easy it would be to seduce Trunks into bed with him, "We'll have to see," He said, "Ah, there he is." His eyes locked on his date, who was making sure his bedroom door was locked. Beside him, Raditz rolled his eyes and grumbled inaudibly.

"I hope I'm not over-dressed," Trunks said, looking down at the solid black button-up shirt and darkly-dyed jeans.

"It doesn't matter," Seventeen responded casually, "You won't be in them long." A corner of his mouth turned up to form a smirk, and his eyes moved downward over the teen's body.

Trunks' face became rather blotchy and red with extreme embarrassment, "I-we-I mean-"

"Gimmie a mother fuckin' break," Raditz growled as Trunks stumbled over his words.

"I'm just joking," Seventeen laughed, "Anyway, we need to dip out before we're late and they lock the door."

-0-

There was no telling how late it was by the time Seventeen and Trunks landed in a shady alley. Trunks had to exercise a lot of self-control not to demonstrate his thrill over being part of La Porte's lavish main strip's night-scene. The feeling of freedom and carelessness was definitely something he'd have to get used to quick, because he had neither of his parents, or Goten's level-headedness to set him straight.

"Let's go," Seventeen said, gently ushering Trunks into the light by placing his hand on the teen's lower back.

The overall effect of the strip was initially overwhelming to Trunks' unfortunately sensitive senses, courtesy of his Saiyan heritage. He felt as if he had just turned on the lights after being in the dark; nothing but neon in every color imaginable soaked into his retinas as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Glittering high-dollar cars roared by; groups of people of all sizes, from couples to crowds of a dozen, chatted and gossiped happily amongst each other as they took up portions of sidewalk and queued before club entrances.

"Where're we going?" Trunks asked once he got a hold of his bearings.

Seventeen pointed to an enormous structure directly across the busy road, "That resort over there, called Minaci," He said. He led Trunks to where a crowd waiting for the cross-walk light to change stood, "That's where the guy that owns the club I work at is having his annual summer party. Its pretty exclusive, so consider yourself lucky I invited you."

A moment later, the light changed and the crowd of people were allowed to cross the street. Trunks was rather impressed as he came closer to his destination, for the building was so tall and wide, that it looked like it was threatening to fall forward. Multi-colored lights lit up its surface, and huge jets of water shot up from a fountain system before the building.

Expensive luxury cars lined up in front of the loop-around covered driveway of the resort. The car's posh owners exited the vehicles, leaving their keys to trusted valets, and made for the entrance. Used to his parents taking care of the formalities, Trunks had no clue how to behave around such elite people, especially at a party. He certainly hoped that Seventeen would help him not make an ass of himself.

"You look nervous," Seventeen said as they stopped before the glass doors, "I thought you'd be used to this sort of stuff."

"My parents never permitted me to go to these sort of parties," Trunks admitted. Hopefully, Seventeen wouldn't think he was too much of a wimp to handle such a setting and send him home.

"Don't worry," The older man said, "You'll get used to it quite quickly." He then pushed the door open that lead to the resort's atrium.

-0-

Meanwhile, a couple of blocks away, Bulma and Vegeta were busy wrapping things up with Brady Trevino. It seemed that good humor, coupled with half a dozen martinis, made the rotund red-faced man quite quick to seal their deal.

Aside from the man's love of hookers and extravagant spending, the guy had a clean-slate in the public's eye. Bulma had really hit it big! Bulma was personally beside herself with joy from scoring such a high-ranking client.

"I'll be sure to come by your office first thing Monday morning!" The tipsy CEO boomed as he, Bulma and Vegeta stood outside of the restaurant. He held out a thick hand to Bulma, and she placed her much smaller hand in his to shake it.

He then turned to Vegeta and held his hand out to him, "Thanks for buying the drinks, buddy!" He said, shaking the Saiyan's hand and clapping him a bit roughly on the shoulder, "I'll have to return the favor some day!"

"I'll remember that," Vegeta said with a smile. And with that, he and Bulma said their farewells and watched the CEO's driver open the door to his luxury car.

Bulma swung her arms out in front of her and clapped them together, making her glittering handbag to swing, "So," She began cheerfully, "Do you wanna celebrate?" She beamed at her husband, still feeling the high of her success.

Vegeta gave a small chuckle at his wife's antics, "I think I agreed to just dinner, not drinks."

The woman rolled her blue eyes, "Seriously, Vegeta, its just a couple of drinks! I mean, I can put the plane on autopilot, so its not like we'll be drunk flying, or anything!"

"Will you quit being so loud!" Vegeta hissed, grabbing Bulma's wrists, "Fine, we'll have just a few drinks, and then we're going home."

In an act of boldness, thanks to the wine she had during dinner, Bulma slipped her small arm around Vegeta's. She dared not to look up and see the Saiyan's expression. She did, however hear a faint exasperated sigh and soon the two of them were walking down the lit, noisy street together.

Before long, they came to a neat-looking bar simply called The 316. The bar was dimly lit with blue lights. All of the furniture, except for the seats, which were white, were black with blue neon lights outlining them.

Arms still locked around each other's, they walked up to the bar and chose seats. The bar's selection of alcohol was vast. Each bottle glowed from the lights beneath them.

"Did you know that I had to change rooms?" Bulma asked once she was handed the drink she ordered.

"You don't say?" Vegeta responded, being the first to raise his glass to his mouth.

Bulma made a face from the taste of her drink, "Yeah," She rasped, clearing her throat from the burn, "I didn't realize I'd be so close to your-er-guests. You should hear the commotion they make at the most ungodly hours!" She then laughed, her true feelings about the matter dulled by the alcohol in her system. She then brought her own glass to her lips, leaving a red stain on the rim.

"Oh please," Vegeta said, bringing his glass down for the second time, "You and I created our own chaos when we stayed in West City, so don't even talk."

Bulma laughed once more, "Yeah we did," She agreed, "How many bed frames did we break?"

"Four, I believe."

The two of them sat in mutual silence as they finished their drinks. The bartender offered them a second round, and Bulma idly watched a guy get escorted out of the bar for trying to drunkenly stand on his table. To be honest, she was enjoying her night alone with Vegeta; it had been entirely too long since she had a quiet night out, and it was quite nice since they had a conversation that circled around them yelling at each other.

Of course, there were a few things that Bulma was curious about, and her muddled mind seemed to put a damper on her ability to know what to say and what not to say.

"So, what's got you turned on to other men?" Bulma asked in her most polite voice, so the question would not be taken as an attack, "I-I mean, I never would have guessed."

"Well, why do you find men attractive?" Vegeta retorted without missing a beat.

"I see your point," The blue-haired woman smiled, "Although, I can't see myself bringing strays home as pets...no offence!"

Vegeta smirked, "Yes, because I'm sure Yamcha is more than enough of a stray for you to handle," He then allowed his eyes to deliberately rove the length of Bulma's sitting form, lingering for a moment on the bit of thigh the blue dress exposed.

"Or maybe," He continued, using the hand that idly held his drink to lay it on his wife's knee, ignoring the fact that his hand was wet from the condensation of his glass, "You're too much to handle for him."

Bulma's breath hitched in her throat slightly as the hand remained on her leg. Vegeta's boldness was definitely something she forgot had been one of the things she found most appealing about him. Still, she wasn't going to let him distract her from their conversation...she hoped.

"What," She emphasized, placing a hand on Vegeta's, "Are you trying to say?"

The hand was removed from Bulma's leg and went back to its original spot. Vegeta raised his glass to his mouth, taking his time in answering. "I think that this is not the place to discuss this."

Bulma followed her husband's gaze around the ever-growing crowd. They were talking quiet enough, but now that it was busy-hour for the bar, they couldn't risk the chance of the wrong person spotting them and overhearing them.

"Where do you want to go?"

"My apartment," Vegeta responded after downing the rest of the contents in his glass, "Remember, the one you and I used for business occasions like these? Unfortunately, my alcohol cabinet is empty there."

"Then we'll have to fix that," Bulma said, knowing all to well where this was headed, but not caring. For the night, they weren't just husband and wife, business partners, or parents...they were lovers.

-0-

Trunks suddenly felt dizzy and leaned up against a pillar that supported the second story of the resort's club. Whatever it was he smoked with Seventeen in that crowded restroom minutes before had his mind completely addled. Both of his hands pressed against the cool marble as he felt himself slide down against its side slightly.

His eyes opened at the touch of a hand gripping his wrist and pulling him off of the pillar. He looked over at the hand's owner and smiled lazily.

"How do you feel?" Seventeen asked, meeting Trunks' glassy gaze.

"Amazing!" Trunks replied, leaning heavily on his date and stifling a giggle.

"Good," Seventeen said, "Because there's someone we need to talk to." He then put an arm around Trunks' shoulder and began leading him through the crowd.

"But why can't we dance?" The teen whined. His head whipped from side to side, trying to take in his strangely-changing surroundings. The room spun around him, and the music pounded in his ears; the bass was felt in his chest, and the ground seemed to vibrate.

The flashing neon lights were brighter in his vision as he was led to a circular booth table in a far corner. A group of three men, and one dark-haired woman who seemed to be someone's date, as she was sitting in his lap.

The heavily-muscular man with short, spiky blonde hair was first to notice their approaching presence. In a gesture of greeting, he jerked his head back and said "What's good, man?". Seventeen replied by raising his hand in a lazy sort of wave.

"What's this?" Trunks said, eyeing the large pile of white powder in the center of the table; along with the drugs was a tall bottle of clear liquid and several shot glasses. "What-what're we doin'?"

Seventeen slid into the booth, pulling Trunks with him, "Chill out," He said.

"Ain't none of us gonna bite ya," The dark-haired woman said, leaning forward so she could playfully stroke her finger down his nose. "He's cute," She said to Seventeen, "Where'd you find him at?"

"Locked away in a castle," Seventeen responded tunelessly. Trunks hoped his blush wasn't noticed.

This particular crowd was a rather shady bunch. No names were introduced, except for the woman, Athena, who was rather flirtatious and stole covert glances shamelessly. The rest of the crowd poured shots and talked raucously. Occasionally someone would dip down to inhale a line of the powder and then jerk their head up, pinching their nose in pain.

Trunks watched his date take his turn just as another shot of alcohol was pressed into his hand. He watched the thin line disappear up the tightly-rolled bank note Seventeen held to his nose. He tossed his shot back, knowing that he would need the extra confidence. He didn't very much like the fact that the drug obviously caused major initial discomfort for the user, but he didn't want to look like a wimp, either.

He took the rolled up bill that was handed to him. He bit his lip uncertainly and dipped down, imitating Seventeen's actions. "S-shit!" He hissed through gritted teeth, squeezing his streaming eyes shut and holding onto his burning nose as if it were going to fall off.

Soon, the pain was replaced by an extreme surge of euphoria, and the need to move. Mixed with the hallucinogens he had earlier, his mind was in a whirlwind. Heat spread from his chest to the rest of his body.

"Was that your first time?" Athena asked, "That's really pure shit; most people get nosebleeds-Oh, but don't be embarrassed, hon'," She said quickly, noticing the heavy flush to Trunks' face, "You're fine." The guy whose lap she sat in tapped her on her bony shoulder and whispered something in her ear.

Trunks wasn't at all embarrassed, actually. He was burning up from the cocktail of drugs; especially the alcohol. Suddenly, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it from his pocket and giggled, "How'd I know he'd still be trying to get up with me." He said, looking at the "hello" text message from Goten.

He had slid out the keypad to type a response, but the phone was taken from his hands.

"Oh my god, don't!" Trunks protested as the culprit, Seventeen, quickly responded to the message.

"Too late," Seventeen said, handing the cell phone back to its owner.

Trunks looked at the response; any other time, he was quite sure he'd be outraged, but in his current state, he found the message to be quite humorous. "Why the hell?" He asked, still giggling.

"You're my boyfriend tonight, not his." The older man replied simply, pouring himself another shot from the quarter-full bottle.

The half-Saiyan felt his heart skip a beat at being labeled boyfriend by his crush. Of course he knew that Seventeen was merely joking, but it was quite nice to hear, being that Goten normally acted shy about the fact he was dating a guy.

"What does it say?" Athena asked. Trunks handed her the phone, and not two seconds later, the woman burst into shrill laughter. "Busy havin' a loud wank, eh?" She read, "You're not right." She continued to giggle while her date rolled his eyes and mumbled something about being late. She then typed something quickly and slid the phone back across the table.

Trunks looked at the message log, but there was nothing there except a "TMI" from Goten.

"Now you have my number," Athena chirped, sliding off of her boyfriend's lap and straightening her tiny skirt around her good legs. Trunks couldn't help but admire how tall and well-proportioned she was. "You should call me." She then bent down to kiss Trunks on the side of his face, giving the teen a great view of the depths of her skimpy shirt.

With that, she and her date left the group and disappeared into the noisy crowd on the dance-floor. After demolishing the remnants of the alcohol, and doing a few more lines (Seventeen actually bought some, he liked it that much) Trunks suggested that they walk outside.

Trunks didn't realize how wasted he was until he stood up and nearly stumbled backward onto a slightly-uncoordinated. Seventeen. Needless to say, it was a tough job making it through the crowd.

Seventeen was stopped by multiple people, most of them past lovers, the other's just sticking around long enough to trade money for drugs. Trunks was surprised by how many illegal substances the guy had on him, and just how many people knew him.

They walked to an open outside area at the back of the club. In this area was the biggest swimming pool Trunks had ever seen with color-changing lights in it. Around the pool were multiple private gazebos for VIP guests and their friends; the rest of the space was standing-room only, due to how crowded the place was. Still, it was cooler outside than it was inside.

"There's the guy who owns the place," Seventeen said, pointing toward a particularly large gazebo flanked by two burly-looking bouncers. It was obvious to pick out the top-dog in the gazebo, despite the many people laughing and drinking inside it. A tall, thin man with a hollow face, wearing a bright-red suit, sat in the center of the group, basking in the attention of many beautiful women. It was much like a villan's cameo scene from a crime-action movie.

Trunks watched his date walk ahead of him. He really wanted to make a move on him, being that Seventeen was always the one to start things off between them. In an act of recklessness, and desperate need for physical touch, thanks to his drug and booze binge, he grabbed Seventeen by the shoulder to stop him.

"How 'bout it?" He asked into the older man's ear, letting his hands slide down the small-framed body, "Won't you dance with me?"

-0-

Bulma's shimmering dress fell to the floor around her feet as Vegeta unhooked the clasp in the back. Their mouths reconnected in a fiery kiss, and Vegeta's rough hands eagerly grabbed a hold of his wife's bare breast with one hand, the other tangled itself into her hair. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed the feel of her soft curves, which was heavily contrasted to what he had been used to as of late.

Small hands roved over perfected muscles, stopping just above the erection concealed by obtrusive fabric. Bulma unzipped the trousers, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor, as her dress did. As soon as the soft flump of fabric was heard, she was none-too-gently shoved up against the wall.

A small giggle escaped Bulma's lips as her husband gripped her thigh with one hand and hooked it around his hip. With the other, he moved the black, lingerie underwear, and positioned himself at the moist entrance below.

Bulma bit her lip in anticipation, feeling a single finger slip against her slick flesh. the leg she was balanced on felt wobbly from having to stand on it in those spiked heels. "Hurry...please..." She whispered desperately in Vegeta's ear.

Obliging his wife, the prince pushed himself inside her easily with a soft groan. Fingers tangled themselves in black hair, and Vegeta's grip on Bulma's thigh tightened. He started rocking his hips slowly, savoring the feeling of warm, natural juices and soft flesh surrounding him, moistening the boxer-shorts he still wore. It had been entirely too long, indeed.

"I think..." Bulma breathed, tilting her head back as far as the wall would allow, "I-I think..." Her leg gave a particularly dangerous wobble that went unnoticed.

"Don't think; enjoy it," Vegeta demanded through gritted teeth, as he allowed himself a particularly rough thrust.

"Shit!" The intoxicated woman swore as a wave of pleasure coursed through her, "I'm gonna...fall!" She tried to use Vegeta's shoulders as leverage as she lifted her leg planted on the floor in order to wrap it around the other hip.

Unfortunately, this did not work. She overestimated Vegeta's ability to stay upright, and the couple fell backward onto the pale carpeted floor with a heavy thud. It appeared that Vegeta was more or less using Bulma as a way to stay standing upright, being that he had a bit more to drink that he had been planning.

"Sorry," Bulma said, picking herself up into a sitting position across Vegeta's hips, "At least you stayed in," She giggled drunkenly.

"So I have," Vegeta agreed, sliding his hands up his wife's legs and gripping her by the hip bones. He stared up at her as she gave him a saucy smile and began rotating her hips against him, using her legs to control her up-and-down movements.

She had no qualms voicing her thrill. Finally! She was with her husband! Of course, her times with Yamcha were great; he was an exceptional lover. Still, he wasn't her husband. As much as she ignored the thoughts; as much as she tried to deny it, she missed the touch of her Saiyan prince.

-8-

Bulma's eyes opened against their will at the feeling of her husband jabbing her in the lower back with his elbow. "What the...?" She mumbled as she turned her blurry gaze over to husband.

"Get your stupid phone; I can hear it." Vegeta growled, snatching the covers over his nude body, so that everything was covered.

Bulma couldn't possibly imagine how her husband could hear the phone, as it was set on vibrate. Then again, he was a Saiyan. She wasn't going to dwell on the matter too much; her head started to pound, and she was still quite drunk.

The room spun as she got out of bed. She barely remembered how she got there in the first place. Completely nude, she staggered around the tiny apartment to where she thinks she left her handbag.

Fumbling with the light switch, the lights flickered on. She squeezed her eyes shut, hissing in displeasure as the lights made her eyes hurt and her head throb.

Nonetheless, she found her handbag. She ungracefully flopped down on the living room sofa and fished around for her phone. She slid her finger across the screen to unlock it. Instantly, her phone indicated that she had an email at her corporate E-mail address, which was open to the public.

Squinting her eyes, in order to see better, she tapped the screen several times until she came to the screen that showed her the Capsule Corp corporate E-mail website. She logged in and saw an unchecked email from an address she didn't recognize. It had an attachment icon next to the subject labeled "Guess what I saw?"

Against her better judgment, she tapped the "read" link. Her eyes widened as she scanned the one-sentence message: "Close your deal with Brady Trevino, or these go public."

The E-mail had a sobering effect on her. She quickly threw on Vegeta's button-up shirt that she found on the floor and dashed to the bedroom.

"Vegeta, get up," She demanded, flipping the light switch, flooding the room with light.

"Fucking hell, woman!" Vegeta spat, hiding his head under his pillow.

"You've got to see this E-mail!" Bulma said extremely fast, "Someone's trying to blackmail me!" She sat down next to her husband on the bed and ripped the pillow back.

Vegeta sat up and held his head in his hands for a minute, "Repeat that," He said, "Slowly, this time."

Bulma thrust the phone under her husband's nose, "Have a look," She said, "I haven't opened the attachments."

The Saiyan blinked sleepily and his eyes scanned the E-mail message. "Probably a bull-shitter," He said dismissively. He then tapped the "download attachment" link. Upon seeing the files, Vegeta's temper flared. He said nothing as he passed the phone to his wife.

Her cerulean eyes flashed angrily as she gave Vegeta an accusatory glare. "I'll deal with the blackmailer," She said in a deadly tone, "You deal with your son, as this is your doing."

-0-

Trunks brushed his nose against sleek, black hair, inhaling the pleasing scent the action brought forth. His hands slid down to gently grip slightly-protruding hipbones, as his and his date's bodies ground against each other to the heavily-thudding music.

The heavily-prevalent presence of pheromones, mingled with sweat and arousal from the dense crowd, sank into Trunks' sensitive Saiyan senses. His fogged mind ignored any and all rational thought, only focusing on one thing: how unashamedly turned-on he was. Any other time, he would be mortified by how obviously desperate he was; but now, in his current state, he wanted his desires to be known.

Seventeen pressed his body back against Trunks' more firmly, as if purposely trying to tease him further. Warm lips grazed over his neck, stopping at his shirt collar. He smirked and spun around so that he was facing the amorous half-Saiyan.

His arms wrapped around Trunks' neck and he leaned forward so that his lips were barely touching the teen's ear. "How would you like to go somewhere more private?" He asked.

"Yeah, let's do that," Trunks replied, running his hands down the older man's back and pressing their bodies tighter together. He tilted his head slightly to capture Seventeen's lips with his, but was stopped by a pair of fingertips.

"Save it for upstairs," Seventeen told his date with a smile. Out of his pocket he withdrew a key-card. Trunks didn't ask where he got it from, figuring he'd rather not know, and hoping that all the guests were given one.

This time, instead of wading through the crowd, they skirted around the club. They climbed a spiral staircase that lead to the second floor of the club. Up here were private tables, much like the gazebos outside, devoted to high-class guests who preferred the company of beautiful male and female escorts.

Soon, they walked through a set of doors that led them to a quiet, high-ceilinged corridor. Trunks exhaled in relief as the cool air of the empty hall hit his heated, sweat-moistened skin. It felt as if the hall were thirty degrees cooler than the dance floor.

After a heated ride in an elevator, where both males seemed to be glued to each other at the mouth, they only had a short walk until they were at the door the key-card belonged to.

They walked into a large sitting room with ecru walls and beige couches. He room had a modern-day classiness to it. The sitting room then opened up to an even larger area.

Taking up a quarter of this room's space was a large, all-white bed with extremely plush blankets. Along the right wall was a large window that led to a balcony overlooking the city's streets.

Trunks sat on the edge of the bed, sighing in relief due to his aching feet. He leaned back on his palms and observed his date, who was removing the contents of his pockets. He was definitely in-debt to Seventeen for sharing such a fantastic night with him and introducing him to pleasures and luxuries that he would have never gotten to experience with anyone else.

"So," He said, smiling, "Was it your intent to get me doped-up then coax me into bed with you?"

The black-haired man turned around, A fierce, fiery expression played across his features as he stared into cerulean eyes. "It worked, didn't it?" He asked, stepping between Trunks' slightly spread legs. He leaned forward until he was practically on top of the younger male.

Trunks stared up at Seventeen, loving the exuberant stare he was being given. No one ever looked at him like that. He bit his bottom lip in anticipation; he couldn't believe that what he had only pictured in his head was actually happening.

"You're cute when you're nervous," The older man said, "Don't worry, this will be fun." His mouth pressed against the other's, parting pliant lips with his own.

A chill went down Trunks' spine as he felt Seventeen's tongue swirl lazily around his. His arms, which were wrapped loosely around the other man's neck, tightened their hold, deepening their kiss. Deft fingers danced down his front, unbuttoning his shirt and exposing his chest.

Pale blue eyes were fixed insolently on cerulean ones as Seventeen slid down Trunks' body. He quickly loosened the constricting jeans and tugged them down. "My goodness," He said, wrapping his fingers around the younger male's uncomfortably hardened length.

"W-what's wrong?" Trunks asked, already red-faced and breathing heavily. His blush deepened as Seventeen's long tongue snaked up the appendage, leaving a clear trail from the tip to his tongue; his eyes remained fixed on the other's all the while.

"Do I look like I have a problem?" Seventeen asked, "I wouldn't be putting your dick in my mouth if I did."

Trunks opened his mouth to retort, but the only sound that came out was a low moan as he watched himself disappear between impudent lips.

The feeling was incredible, and the half-Saiyan lowered himself backward, letting his eyes drift shut. Soft moans escaped through parted lips, and his hands gripped the sheets at his sides. He practiced extreme self-control to keep from releasing so soon; he cursed himself for not getting any sort of physical action in what he thought was a long time.

He gasped and involuntarily jerked at the sudden and unexpected feeling of the older man's fingers, wet from saliva, teasing him into readiness. His eyes closed tighter at the uncomfortable, yet oddly erotic, in-and-out motion.

A light sheen of sweat coated his forehead as his effort to contain himself became harder. One of his hands released its death-grip on the sheets; he trailed his fingertips down the middle of his body until they touched soft, black hair. He tangled his fingers in the raven locks, urging the head further downward.

Trunks' breathing became heavier and a bead of sweat slid down the side of his face and downward into his hair. He didn't know how much longer he could hold back; Seventeen was quite talented with his mouth, and the occasional teasing gazes he gave didn't help at all.

His toes curled and his back arched off of the bed. His jaw dropped as the first pulse of his orgasm, that he so desperately tried to hold back, hit him. "Ah, fuck!" He cried as the second pulse hit him, releasing thick fluid into the older man's mouth.

Trunks' body relaxed, and Seventeen righted himself, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, then undoing and pulling his pants down around his knees

. "That was...amazing," Trunks panted, arms slightly thrown out to either side of him.

"It isn't over yet," Seventeen replied, gripping the younger male's thigh and hooking it around one of his hips. He leaned down and grasped one of Trunks' wrists, balancing his weight on that one; the other was reaching downward to position himself.

The half-Saiyan felt tense again. He was positively dreading this part, and no amount of prep could save him. Tears welled in his eyes from the initial pain of being entered. The low groan that came from Seventeen's mouth sent a shiver down his spine; he looked up to see the man's jaw clench as he eased further inside. A firm grip tightened around his free wrist.

Seventeen exhaled heavily as he slowly started rocking his hips. He stared into Trunks' eyes, which were still wet around the edges from the tears, and felt the teen's fists clench. He quickened his pace as soon as he was used to the incredible stimulation he loved so much.

So lost in his own lust and ecstasy, he was unaware of the bruising force he used to grip the teen's wrists. The pained grunts and sharp gasps coming from the younger male's mouth only increased the thrill as he repeatedly drove himself into him. He dipped down to press his lips to Trunks', drowning out the soft, sultry sounds that made his blood rush with excitement.

Trunks eagerly accepted the older man's gesture. The pain that made his very nerves scream for relief was slowly ebbing away; he moaned quietly against the other man's mouth, feeling his length completely hardened, as the pain was replaced by pleasure.

Their slick bodies slid against each other's as Trunks began to gently rotate his hips in sync with Seventeen's. This action caused more friction against his erection and another low moan escaped his mouth. The hands clinging to his wrists released their death-grip and dug into his hair, which was damp at the base from the sweat.

Seventeen's forehead rested against Trunks' and their noses brushed touched. Their alcohol-laced breath mingled together as their tongues darted out to swirl around one another's. The older man's rhythmic movements soon became more erratic as he neared his own release.

His jaw dropped and his eyes squeezed shut; "Ah-!" Was all he was able to get out as his mouth tried to form a coherent word. The initial wave of his release hit him, making him momentarily senseless. The second wave came closely behind the first and his grip on Trunks tightened. After the incredible third pull, his body collapsed on top of the other's, both male's breathing heavily.

"That was...so good..." He whispered against moist skin. His eyes shut as the aftershocks subsided.

Trunks smiled lazily. He wanted to just lay there, enjoying the feeling of another's body pressed against his, but he was still quite aroused. With one quick movement, he had Seventeen on his back, while he laid on top of him.

The older man, still red in the face, smiled and spread his legs in offering. Trunks wasted no time in taking advantage of this opportunity; he was quite certain that no one else got the chance to dominate the brazen stripper.

-8-

The sky was barely tinged pink in the distance. Trunks and Seventeen, who were both physically worn-out, but could not sleep due to the substances ingested hours before, sat together on the veranda outside the room.

Trunks took a long draw on the joint he was passed, then slowly exhaled the smoke into the cool early-morning breeze. He glanced upward at his partner, who was sitting on the edge of the balcony, staring into the almost non-existent traffic far below. "Why do you do this?" He asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them that had lasted almost twenty minutes.

"Do what?" Seventeen asked, taking the joint and taking a pull.

The half-Saiyan stared at the glowing end of the joint then locked onto pale blue eyes, "This crazy lifestyle you live; you couldn't possibly have no responsibilities."

"To keep from feeling," The older man answered, which actually surprised Trunks. "I don't want to be held back by rubbish emotions and ideals."

Trunks got up from his chair and stood in between Seventeen's legs with his hands on the man's upper thighs. He brushed a few strands of black hair that had blown in the man's face. "I have to admit," He said, "I think there's something unusual about you."

Seventeen leaned forward and slipped his arms around the teen's neck. "Just like you," He said quietly, brushing his lips against the other's, "I'm only part-human." He covered Trunks' lips with his own, letting his tongue slip out and slide against the seam of the younger male's closed mouth.

"And what, exactly, is the part of you that isn't human?" The teen asked, pulling back slightly.

"Android," The older man answered with a smirk. Once more, he pressed his lips to Trunks. He felt the younger man's hands slide up his back and their kiss deepened.

"That's incredible..." Trunks whispered when they broke apart, "An android and a half-Saiyan-wizard; we'd make a nice couple."

"Do you think so?" Seventeen laughed pleasantly. Just as they were going to be joined at the mouth once more, the muffled sounds of some noisy ring-tone were heard from inside the room.

"That would be mine," He said, sounding a bit disappointed. He patted the younger man on the shoulder then walked inside.

Trunks stuck his nose out to the breeze; the sky was gray tinged with orange and gold. The effects of the joint he smoked had taken effect, so now he was starting to feel sleepy. The thoughts of warm sheets on a comfortable bed, preferably shared with his amorous lover, seemed like only a fairy tail to him and his aching body.

Just as he was going to walk inside to suggest that they go back to the castle, Seventeen met him at the threshold between the veranda and the room. The roguish spark in his eye was diminished, being him back to his trademark poker-face; void of any emotion.

"You ought to check your phone," He said flatly, handing the slim piece of machinery to its owner, "Raditz called and said your parents have been trying to get up with you."

With a quizzical expression, the teen turned on his phone. The device alarmed continually with multiple alerts ranging from texts to angry voicemails. When he was through sorting through the ranting and screaming voicemails and texts, he gave a panicked look to the older man.

"I think that you might have to make yourself scarce for a while," He said grimly.
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