Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Mmm... Kinky! ❯ Tuesday Night ( Chapter 3 )

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

Mmm... Kinky

It was just a simple bedroom. There was nothing special about it. A large double bed stood in the center of the room. One window hung rested towards the right. The floors were carpeted with pale beige fuzziness. A television rested in the corner, though it couldn't broadcast anything. Television didn't exist anymore. There wasn't a reason for it to. No one watched television. The only broadcast that made contact with the world was radio, and that was only news of another city's destruction. There was no more comedy shows, or late night programs, or emotional soap operas, but only death and destruction... and that was the reason he came every Tuesday night... to learn more about these creatures of death and destruction.

That was what Trunks told himself, anyway.

The bed rested in a small motel. No one owned the motel anymore. Once, many years ago, in a land far away where there was nothing but peace and happiness, an old man had lived his life in the motel, making money off of others who occasionally stayed there. Now it was just dark. There was no electricity, heating, air-conditioning… nothing. It was bare, dark, and cold. The outside world remained outside, and the inside world was here, in this dark and cold room, with the door closed and no radio, and only a broken useless box of a television that reminded them there was more outside the room.

He wasn't here yet. That wasn't unusual. Trunks was glad. He didn't know if he was going to stay. He wanted to… but he couldn't. Not with what was happening outside the world. Bulma… she was gone, trapped and caged in that hideous creature's grasp. He couldn't stay here when his mother could be suffering at this very moment, crying his name, begging for him to help her.

"Just standing about, ne?" came that smooth and silky voice. It was too late, now. Trunks' eyes fluttered closed as he tried to block it out and make it not real. He knew without looking that it was Juunanago, leaning against the now closed door, his long black hair hiding his face, darkening the already dark shadows. The cyborg wore his dark blue jeans and a black shirt with the white sweater beneath it, the crimson scarf looped around his neck. He would have his ankles crossed carelessly, hands interlocked behind his back or on his hips. The cyborg loved Tuesday night. He loved making Trunks feel weak. He loved every moment of it, each struggle against him, each time Trunks turned and rushed out of the hotel room nearly sobbing… each time he came back for more.

Tuesday night had occurred every since Gohan's death. He'd found his mentor's body resting in the center of the streets, drowning in a small puddle as rain fell on the corpse. He'd gone hunting for the murders the following day, not caring if he lived or died, and he had found Juunanago… alone, walking the city's streets. He'd attacked demonically, knowing one of them would die that night. For hours they had battled. The sun had descended over the horizon, turning Tuesday evening into Tuesday night. The fight had turned vicious, and blood had poured from Trunks' wounds. Even Juunanago had been somewhat battle weary. He'd moved in for another attack, but instead of receiving a fist, he'd received a tight grip in his hair and an arm lopped around his waist, a malice chuckle echoing in his ears. 'I think we need a different approach to this lesson, Trunks,' Juunanago had purred.

Trunks knew he was betraying everything he'd learned. He knew Gohan despised him from where his sensei floated in heaven. He expected mercy from no one, and knew that when he finally died, hell would await him with opened arms, and into those arms he would go willingly. Every Wednesday morning he swore he would never return, but every Tuesday evening he found himself walking down the streets towards the small hotel near the coastline. Outside the ocean could be heard. Whispers of bird's songs echoed out in the dark night. The stars shone down happily upon the blood-coated world. "I hate you," Trunks cursed to the cyborg that stood behind him. A faint chuckle was his response. "I know, Trunks, but sometimes I can't help but wonder."

He spun around; glaring into the black eyes of the demon that had killed everyone he had every known or loved. What was his argument? Trunks was too young to know or love those people. Now that argument was invalid. "Where is my mother?" he snarled.

"Uh-uh-uh," Juunanago shook his head with a chuckle, waving a finger in the air. "Trunks, you know better, my filthy evil koibito." Trunks hissed at the name and turned his back to the cyborg, looking out the window again. The city had long ago been deserted. Juunanago and Juuhachigou had complete run of it, but they had lost interest. In a few months some survivors who had taken residence in the forest of the city would begin moving back in, praying that the cyborgs never returned. "The world outside does not taint our little dimension within these four walls." Juunanago stepped towards the window and pulled the curtains shut, proving his point. Trunks stared in silence at the pale and stained red curtains that now prevented his gaze from continuing into the peaceful night. He was trapped in this room with this monster once again, although he knew he could leave. He'd tested the theory once, many months ago. He'd left, disgusted with himself, and Juunanago had let him. It was another way to prove that this apartment didn't exist in their normal reality. They weren't enemies in here. They didn't fight in order to kill each other. They didn't speak of battles, or strategies to defeat each other. Trunks had known that when he'd come. Juunanago wouldn't tell him anything about Bulma, not even if she was alive. More than likely she was. They wanted him to come to them. He couldn't stand it, though! Trunks turned, looking to Juunanago with pleading eyes. "Please, just please tell me - is she alive?"

No answer. Juunanago only continued to smile faintly. Trunks allowed his head to drop faintly. His hands leaned on the windowsill, fingers curling into the dull white edge as he tried not to sob. His entire world was in shambles and the teenager had no way to correct it. With Bulma gone, he was alone. He had no friends, no family, and no true reason to live.

That was truly a lie, though. Bulma was probably alive. He could find a way to save her. He could rescue her from wherever she was trapped, and then complete the time machine she had been working on for months now. It was so close to completion, and yet so far. Without her, there would be no hope for the future of any timeline. She was the only one who he lived for now… her… and Juunanago.

It was so twisted… so very wrong… but the truth.

Juunanago stepped forward and turned, resting his back against the wall beside the window. Trunks looked up through the pale locks of his hair, seeing the callous and emotionless eyes of the cyborg staring down at him. "I hate you," Trunks whispered, though whom the words were directed at were not fully known - himself or the cyborg.

"I know, Trunks, but sometimes I can't help but wonder." Juunanago always gave the same answer. It was a ritual of security, perhaps. Neither of them really knew. It was said endless times by both of them, each time they stood together in this dark room. Tradition, maybe - they were reliving one single night over and over again, traveling back in time for their own sexual perverted reasons.

"C'mon, Trunks," Juunanago whispered softly, reaching out. His arm looped around Trunks' shoulders, tugging him closer. Trunks allowed himself to be moved until he was wrapped in the cold secure arms of the cyborg like a young weak woman who only wanted to be loved. He knew he was acting like a child, begging for something, then pouting when he didn't get it, but he was on overload. Bulma wasn't around any more, and she was his brain. Without her, he was just some wild teen with humanity's survival weighing on his shoulder, wondering around, and lost. Trunks leaned his head on the cyborg's shoulder, his arms wrapping around the thin waist next to him. "This is our world. The outside world doesn't exist anymore."

He nodded in agreement, allowing himself to submit as always. It wasn't unusual. It always took Juunanago a few minutes to talk Trunks out of his worries. He pulled his head back, looking into the black eyes of his worst enemy, and perhaps the only person who was honest to him. Juunanago never lied, never told him anything more or less than he needed to know, and when he wouldn't tell him something, he'd simply say that instead of making up so elaborate lie like his mother always did.

Faint lips brushed against his as long slender fingertips curled in his hair. Trunks leaned up into the embrace. Juunanago was a few inches taller than him, though so much smaller. Trunks sighed against the soft touch. How could this possibly be? How could such a heartless and evil fiend make him shiver with delight? He felt the cyborg tugging at the belt of his gi, and with practiced ease it was tossed aside. Within only a matter of moments they were both undressed, the soft fabrics tossed to the cold floor to be gathered frantically later when Trunks fled from the room in shame, as he always did on Wednesday morning.

Trunks was laid on the chilly blankets of the bed, Juunanago towering over him with that dark smile on his face. He allowed his head to fall backwards, eyes closing to trap him within the darkness of denial. Unheated fingers curled down his faint curves, tracing designs in his skin. Juunanago had a fascination with blood, since he lacked any of it. He felt his skin being punctured by the sharp fingernails of the robotic man. The designs continued until the fingers ended up around his slowly developing arousal. Juunanago grabbed the sensitive appendage with a dark chuckle and slowly tugged on it, causing his shaft to harden almost instantly. "No, this isn't…"

"Now, now, no reason to be hostile, my pet," Juunanago chuckled softly, reaching up. Lips pressed against Trunks' throat, causing the demi-Saiyajin to begin purring. Juunanago was a quick learner, and during their few months together he'd learned every weakness and pleasure point on Trunks' body, as well all the Saiyajin instincts that Trunks had inherited from his father. Faint teeth brushed against his jugular, pressing down hard enough to be painful, but not enough to break the skin. Trunks' hands twirled in Juunanago's limp black hair, trying to tug him closer, to force him to bite. The cyborg only pulled away with a laugh, wrapping his arm around Trunks' fist. "So, what'll it be tonight, koibito?"

Trunks growled deeply, turning his head away. He hated being mocked so. Juunanago was constantly taunting him, forcing him to admit his filthy desires and deeds, even during battle. Juuhachigou knew about it all, as well. She was constantly mocking Trunks, always trying to lure him into her bed as well. He wasn't sure why he hadn't accepted, but she didn't have the demonic attraction that Juunanago seemed to have over him. Juunanago was the one in control, the leader of their unholy pack… Satan's favored, perhaps. He didn't know, and the thought of it disgusted him. "Just stop, Juunanago."

With a sinister chuckle, Juunanago rested his forehead against Trunks', their eyes connecting. "Stop?" whispered the cyborg as his hand traced down between Trunks' legs, looping under the erection, caressing the ball sack, before penetrating the small entrance. It wasn't even uncomfortable any more. It was familiar, welcoming, a little piece of sanity in the world of the mad. A second finger joined the first, stretching him from within. Trunks sighed, relaxing into the bed as he spread his thighs further. He felt a shiver run down his spine as firm lips began gently nibbling at his skin, sucking on his hardening nipples, moving down to his abdomen, twirling around his navel. He hissed as the cyborg's sharp canines drew more blood. "Get on with it," he snarled with impatience, feeling his muscles clench around the fingers as the inner sweet spot was struck.

"What, don't want to be by my side for eternity?" Juunanago chuckled as he pulled back, pale pink lips coated red. Could he even taste the blood? Trunks growled out. He didn't want this to happen, but he couldn't make it stop. He wanted the night over with. Bulma could be dying right now! "So sexy… almost evil…" Juunanago purred faintly, running his long slender fingers around Trunks' arousal. That was the last straw. Trunks shoved the cyborg, sending him onto his back on the floor. With a growl he followed Juunanago, gripping his legs and pulling them apart. With one swift thrust he was buried in the cold yet tight skin. It seemed right. The fires of hell could be as cold as dry ice. He gripped the cyborg's shoulders, holding him down like some kind of fuck toy. He didn't care, and he knew Juunanago was only amused.

Encouraging the wildness of the demi-Saiyajin, Juunanago's legs wrapped around Trunks' waist, drawing him further inside. It was always difficult to make him let go, but once it had been done, nothing but death could stop it. His back arched with each thrust of the living male. His erection trembled between their bodies, the combination of fire and ice, battling for dominance and pleasure. Juunanago reached up, wrapping his hands around the arms that held down his shoulders. Without pause he scraped his nails down the skin, watching the beautiful red fluid drip from the openings. Blood was now coating their bare stomachs, rolling off hard skin and staining the pale carpet beneath their bodies.

Matching moans escaped their lips as the pace increased. Juunanago mimicked each of Trunks' movements, raising his hips with each violent thrust. Trunks' eyes might as well have been sewn shut. The cyborg chuckled, staring into the tightly controlled face. "Come on, koibito, you can touch me."

"Rather not," Trunks muttered absently, his eyes finally blinking open for one brief moment. Juunanago frowned and locked his ankles around the demi-Saiyajin. With a hard shove he rolled them over, trapping Trunks beneath his body. He never broke the brisk pace, or their connection. Juunanago shoved down his hips over the firm and trembling erection that was inside him as soon as he was on top, then quickly drew himself up with the power of his knees. He laughed as he heard Trunks snarl in rage at him, but he only ignored it as he looked down into the dark blue eyes. As he continued pumping the item inside he reached down and grabbed one of Trunks' hands and wrapped it around his own demanding need. "You used to like making me scream," Juunanago chuckled with a dark grin on his features. Trunks' fist tightened around the arousal, causing Juunanago to grunt with the small amount of pain that he felt. His muscles within clenched, causing Trunks' eyes to shut with a moan as his hips drove upward, trying to get deeper, trying to get more. As if instinct guided him, Trunks' hands began moving down the long shaft. Juunanago moaned out, throwing his head backwards, hair falling across his face. His hands fell down, resting against the sweaty warm chest against him. He soon heard the erotic moans of climax echoing from his lover. He forced his eyes opened as he clenched his insides, watching as Trunks cried out, tossing his head back, arching his shoulders. Warmth filled him inside as Trunks freed his seed. Juunanago grinned as he watched the demi-Saiyajin settle, his hips rest along the ground. He moved off the tired body and fell beside the demi-Saiyajin, hand circling his own erection as he slowly began to pump.

Trunks frowned as he looked over to the cyborg. Dark black lust-filled eyes met his as Juunanago stroked himself. Trunks watched for a brief moment before growling somewhat and shoving him onto his back, hand gripping around the need. Juunanago moaned out, watching the innocent young face of the teenager as the slender and unblemished fingers stroked his need, tightening, pumping. He grinned and reached out, wrapping his arms around the demi-Saiyajin's neck and tugging him closer, kissing him passionately, tasting the warmth and wetness of his mouth. He cried out against those lips as he climaxed, hips jerking upwards into that warm and blood-filled palm. He fell back against the cold floors, gasping for breath that he didn't need. Beside him Trunks sighed in frustration, arm falling over his eyes. "Monster," he muttered quietly to no one in particular. Juunanago smiled, allowing his eyes to close. He rolled onto his side against the warm body, allowing an arm to fall around the thin waist of the teenager. "Alien," he retorted.

"I hate you."

"I know, Trunks, but sometimes I can't help but wonder…"