Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Mmm... Kinky! ❯ Wednesday Morning ( Chapter 9 )

A/N: Yeah, I'm still working on all the others. Got a million of these unfinished, just waiting for my attention. Suggestions are welcomed. Question: One anyone like to see Mirai Trunks/Chibi Trunks? *kinky grin*

Wednesday Morning

(Sequel to Tuesday Night)

He awoke sore and tired to the sensation of soft fingers against his skin. The illusion had ended with the rise of the sun, and nothing but harsh reality was left, mocking Trunks as his eyes opened, met with the bland off-white of the ceiling, faint shadows creating illusions of his life that taunted him. Juunanago lay beside him on the stained carpet, touching him as a lover would do. He longed to caress and fondle, taunt and tease… kiss those cold perfect lips….

Reality would not stand for such an illusion. The sun was up. The fantasy had ended. Bulma was being held prisoner somewhere in the city. Ningen were expecting him, praying for him, needing him. He could no longer be that innocent young boy he was once. Chikyuu relied on him for survival… against the very thing that now crawled to its knees and gazed hungrily at the young hero.

A single kiss… what could be the harm? Just one soft touch; Trunks needed it. Juunanago leaned down, knowing every thought, feeling every need the demi-Saiyajin had.

"I want you," whispered the cyborg, moving for the kiss.

Trunks turned away sharply, shoving Juunanago back with a snarl as he scrambled to his feet. What little of the illusion that had remained was destroyed with those spoken words, hearing that harsh voice that had mocked him after Gohan's death. He grabbed his clothing and tugged it on, his back to the cyborg. He couldn't look at Juunanago. Trunks knew that if he did, his control would slip. He tugged on his pants and pulled on his shirt, gathering his sword, belt and shoes rapidly. His hand was on the knob when he heard the mocking laughter… and for some reason, for the first time, it stopped him.

"Can't stand to face your true self, can you?" Juunanago rose to his feet, perfectly content in his nude state. Trunks glared hatefully at his hand, which was still firmly gripped on the doorknob, and tried to will it to turn. His hand didn't move, nor did the door. "Can't stand the fact that you want it all… that you want me." Slender arms encircled Trunks' waist. The touch caused Trunks to shiver - with lust or disgust, he didn't know. Trunks regained control of his body in that brief moment, turning the knob and shoving open the doorway. He ripped himself from the cyborg's grasp and rushed out into the hallway.

"Oh Trunks… by the way…"

Why did ever word that the demon said cause Trunks to halt in his steps? The demi-Saiyajin fell against the wall with a sigh, forcing himself to breathe. His hand gripped the sword at his side tightly, and he wondered silently why he had never used it before. How many times had Juunanago slumbered helplessly just inches away from him? "What, cyborg?" he demanded, tone full of venom. Trunks needed a shower and a cat-scan, stat.

"Your boyfriend, he had a little apartment."

Trunks craned his head around, glaring at Juunanago. How could he know that? "Hai," he muttered with a small abrupt nod of his head. Juunanago grinned, crossing his arms over his chest in a smug manner. "About, say, fifteen miles outside of this city… in the suburbs, one of the first places we destroyed. Quaint, it really is. His clothes are still there. Gohan was such a filthy demi-Saiyajin." Juunanago clicked his tongue with a shake of his head, the thoughts more of a musing than anything Trunks needed to hear. "On with it, cyborg," the demi-Saiyajin demanded.

Juunanago raised a brow with a faint smirk on his lips. "Meet me there."

Trunks lifted his chin. "Tuesday night? Why the change?"

"No, not Tuesday night," Juunanago rolled his eyes with a scoff. "Tonight! When the sun falls."

"No!" Trunks nearly bellowed. It was all he could do to come to this small apartment once a week, though gods knew that he never wanted it to stop. He couldn't bear a change. The ritual was familiar and comforting. It was steadiness in the world of the insane.

"Not for sex," Juunanago said before grinning and moving out in the hallway. It seemed so unnatural. He looked so human, standing there in all his glory. He moved forward in front of Trunks, causing the young prince to stumble back against the wall. Juunanago's hands ran up Trunks' cotton-clad hips, snaking beneath the shirt. Cold mechanical fingers ran across Trunks' ribs, tickling skin. "Although… if you want…" a dirty little grin fell upon lips as the cyborg trailed off. Trunks swallowed, turning his head away, trying vainly to deny the hardness that accompanied such teasing.

"Then for what?" he demanded breathlessly. Trunks winced as the sound of his voice, realizing how helpless he truly was. He cursed every god he could name, not caring that he had stopped believing in supreme beings centuries ago.

"You want your mother, don't you?" Devious eyes gazed up through thick lashes. Juunanago even looked luscious and innocent. Why couldn't he be? Why couldn't he be perfectly innocent of all the crimes Trunks knew the cyborg had committed? Why couldn't he be good and pure? If he was… they could be together, and happy. They could…

They could what? Have a relationship?

"Mother will be there?" he demanded, ripping himself away from the black-haired demon. Juunanago scowled in frustration, folding his arms across his chest like a stubborn pouting woman. Trunks forced his eyes to remain away from the hardness that begged for attention between the sexy villain's legs. "Not if you keep playing with me like this."

"You're the one playing these games!" Trunks nearly screamed. He forced himself to breathe, to regain control of his thoughts before he lost his mind. "I'll be there, but this better not be a trick."

Juunanago snorted, watching as the demi-Saiyajin turned and walked down the hallway, fading from view. "I'd never trick you, Trunks," he snorted with a laugh before returning to the bedroom.

~*~

Vivid memories ran through his mind as he stalked along the streets. The sun had fallen just an hour ago, and now, as commanded, like some stupid dog, he moved through the dark streets where Gohan's old apartment had been. There were no humans moving through the streets. There was no sign of life at all… anywhere. Trunks gripped the sheathed sword in his hand tighter, listening to the sounds of the air, wishing for the umpteenth time that the cyborgs had ki so he could figure out where they were.

He halted outside the building. It towered above him, reaching the heavens. Trunks was amazed it was still up, but it seemed to be in decent condition. A few cracks running through the foundation was the only real damage that he saw, and even those were minor.

Had Juunanago been tending to the building?

Cerulean eyes widened at the thought before narrowing in suspicion as he saw a faint shimmer of light in Gohan's old room. How many years… he wondered with a scowl. How many years had Juunanago been scheming this? How many years had that damn twisted cyborg been obsessing over him? It sickened him, made his stomach twist and knot.

Hands tightening around the hilt of the blade, he removed it, savoring the sound of metal cutting air. He tossed the sheath aside and rushed up the small set of stairs, kicking down the doorway. Trunks rushed inside, hair gold, body pulsing with ascended energy. He saw nothing but shadows as he entered the small foyer. A small desk rested to the left, record books lying sprawled out, waiting for attention.

The tip of the sword dropped to his side. He sighed. Juunanago was completely serious, and why not? The cyborg didn't believe the Saiyajin to be a threat… and in all honesty, he wasn't. Trunks moved across the room towards the stairs and slowly began upwards, following the curves of the staircase, hand gripping on the banister. His eyes focused head of him, waiting for any signs of an ambush. If Bulma was in here, he couldn't risk any mistakes… however, something inside him mind was telling him not to panic. Juunanago wouldn't do anything to hurt him….

What the hell was he thinking? These were cyborgs!

He shook his head, trying to remove the thoughts vainly. Despite his attempts, the grip on his sword loosened and his eyes stopped examining every nook of the building for foes.

Trunks paused as he reached the third floor and opened the doorway, peaking through nervously. From there he could see Gohan's doorway wide open, lights from lanterns shining through. Trunks took a deep breath and moved across the stained carpet, reaching the doorway in only a few steps. He'd only been in the bedroom a few times during his boyhood, but thankfully the memories were few. He stepped inside and gazed around, spotting the object of his madness stretched out on the bed. Juunanago had his arms crossed behind him, propping his head up as he… apparently slumbered. The cyborg's chest was bare and a pair of tight black jeans were unbuttoned, revealing more than Trunks cared to see.

Just as he had expected, it had been nothing more than a trick. He turned around silently to leave, disgusted with himself for even suspecting he could thrust the cyborg.

"She's somewhere nearby."

Trunks halted at the voice and scowled at the darkness. He bowed his head with a heavy sigh. Of course… Juunanago had made it a game. He couldn't just smile and release Bulma without some form of payment, punishment or embarrassment on Trunks' behalf. "Fine," he muttered, stepping into the room, sword hanging at his side, ready and waiting. "I'll play along. Where is she?"

Juunanago opened his eyes, but didn't look at Trunks. The cyborg stared straight ahead at the bare wall and smirked. "She's safe."

"I bet," Trunks snarled, stepping forward. He placed the tip of his sword on the mattress and glared, finally grasping Juunanago's gaze. The cyborg sat up, folding his arms in his lap, and leaned forward with a delicious smirk across his lips. "I hate you," Trunks snarled, unable to keep the words silent.

"I know, but sometimes I wonder…"

"Don't say that!" Trunks exclaimed, gripping the hilt and swinging it. Juunanago caught the blade in his hand and ripped the weapon away, tossing it carelessly behind him. Trunks' hands balled into fists as he scowled angrily at the cyborg. "Damn it, Juunanago! You have my mother! Where is she, you fucking bastard?"

"Hmm…" Juunanago purred, leaning back against the wall against, folding his hands above his abdomen. He gazed inquisitively at the wall and remained silent for a brief moment before smirking. "Let's see. I have your mother… the only person left alive that means anything at all to you. I hold your last thread of sanity. As far as you know, a simple twist of my wrist could end her life." He raised his hand and waved it about with a chuckle. His black gaze turned to Trunks and the smirk faded. "So… who's making orders in this situation, Trunks?"

Trunks had never loathed anyone more in his entire life. He repressed the urge to spit and attack… solely because he knew Juunanago was right. The cyborg had easily come up with the perfect situation to make Trunks his completely obedient slave, and there was nothing that Trunks could do until Juunanago grew bored with him. "Fine! Damn you!" He turned and sat down on the bed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He was losing control, and it seemed that with each ounce of power he lost, Juunanago gained more.

"No need to be all emotional," Juunanago chuckled, sliding across the bed and softly grasping Trunks' wrist. Trunks felt warm breath against his ear. "I promise, she's safe, and very close. I only want one thing from you, Trunks, and you know what it is… because you want it too." The lips wrapped around his earlobe, tugging so gently that Trunks nearly whimpered. "Why?" he whispered, voice breaking as he spoke.

Juunanago pulled back, arms encircling Trunks' waist, his back against the cyborg's bare chest. "Because you hate me," he responded with a chuckle. The hands ran down, grabbing the edge of his jean jacket and removing it, shoving it down off Trunks' arms and tossing it carelessly to the floor. Trunks stared at the cloth as he felt lips running down his neck, nibbling softly as skin. He wanted to desperately to turn around and take the damn demonic creature into his arms, cause Juunanago pain and pleasure like neither of them had ever imagined, but… gods… was he truly insane?

Slender fingers tugged playfully at his jeans, undoing them with practiced ease. Chilled hands snaked beneath the material, grasping semi-hardness with a lover's gentleness. "Trunks," the cyborg whispered almost pleadingly. The demi-Saiyajin gritted his teeth against the plea, begging the gods to make all the insanity just one large dream that he would wake up from. The lips against his neck grew needy. He felt teeth grazing his skin. The fist beneath the material of his jeans tightened and stroked harder. He grunted in annoyance, turning his face away. He couldn't do this! Not when Bulma was so close by, and no doubt trapped in the hands of Juuhachigo, suffering Kami knew what horrors.

"She's safe, Trunks. I give you my word." Juunanago rose from the bed and stood in front of Trunks, black eyes slit with lust.

"And your word is worth what, exactly?" he demanded.

Juunanago smiled and kneeled down, resting his hands on the demi-Saiyajin's thighs. "I've never once lied to you, Trunks. Your mother is here… somewhere. I never said she'd be in this very room."

"You implied it."

"I didn't say it." Juunanago reached up, fingers grasping the edge of the material. Eyes filled with desire stared up at Trunks, silently asking for a single obvious movement. Trunks remained still, glaring at the cyborg, wishing that looks could really kill. "I promise," Juunanago repeated with a soft smile. Trunks bit down on his bottom lip as he stared into those eyes that haunted each nightmare and dream he had. Without words he pressed his palms against the mattress and slightly lifted his hips. Juunanago grinned hungrily and yanked away the material, not giving the warrior a single moment to regret his decision. As the jeans pooled around Trunks' ankles, Juunanago encased the lilac-haired male's arousal with his lips, rough tongue running along the base as he struggled to take it all in and keep his throat relaxed.

Trunks swallowed the whimper that threatened to unleash. His hands fisted the sheets he sat upon, shaking. His teeth clenched as he felt silky hair brush against his thighs, tickling his skin with each bob of Juunanago's head. Why was this so hard… uh… difficult? Letting Juunanago have his way would end it all. Bulma would be freed. Trunks would never see him again. Perhaps, just maybe, some form of peace would return to the planet. Why, then, couldn't he just let it happen? Why was he fighting everything?

He would never see Juunanago again.

It struck him like a blast. His eyes widened. He sucked in breath, eyes snapping shut so he didn't have to look at anything, especially the cyborg causing him such impossible pleasure. If things went as Juunanago had said, he may never see the cyborg again. There would be no more blissful Tuesday nights. There would be nothing but fighting.

Could he sacrifice Juunanago for Bulma?

Nails raked down his thighs. He whimpered, head falling back, his mind erased. "Juu… Junana…" he moaned, voice going up decimals. Whatever happened afterwards didn't matter. Juunanago was in control… as always, and Trunks could do nothing to stop it. Had he ever once controlled his fate? Did it matter?

He climaxed with a violent shudder, collapsing along the width of the bed. He felt the cyborg's tongue running along his arousal tenderly, lovingly… mockingly. He was so tired. "Please…" he whispered breathlessly, trying to keep the tears back. "Please…"

"Please what?" Juunanago whispered, crawling overtop of him. A dark pink tongue escaped thin lips, licking away whiteness. A gentle hand ran down Trunks' chest, curious black eyes staring down at him. Please what… indeed. What was Trunks begging for? He hadn't the faintest clue. "I… I don't know," he murmured, voice shaking.

"Don't worry, Trunks," Juunanago said gently, leaning down. Their lips pressed together softly. Trunks could taste himself within the caverns of the cyborg's warm mouth. He trembled against the touch, but was comforted as cool hands wrapped around his shoulders. The demi-Saiyajin could feel Juunanago's hardness against his stomach and he sighed as the lips began tracing down his jaw, his neck, down to his stomach to nip playfully at his hardened nipples. Juunanago… always so playful.

"I hate you," he whispered heavily. There weren't any words that he could find to say except for those, and they came out venomously.

For the first time in years, Juunanago did not reply.

Instead, and much to Trunks' shock, the cyborg pulled back, eyes narrowed with rage, fists clenched at his sides. Trunks sat up, watching the cyborg with confusion. "You really do, don't you?" snarled the cyborg. Trunks swallowed, not trusting himself to speak. His hands clenched the sheets as his sides so tightly that it actually ached. His knuckles were white. "You do hate me." Juunanago's words were filled with rage and confusion. Trunks couldn't respond. He didn't know how to speak anymore. "You fucking bastard!" Juunanago snarled, fist lunging out, striking the demi-Saiyajin. Trunks fell backwards off the bed, hearing bones break in his nose as he stuck the hardwood floor. Blood dripped from his nostrils as he heard fleeting footsteps.

Slowly, he climbed up, grabbing the side of the bed for support and staring at the doorway. Juunanago had left. He was alone in his mentor's old bedroom.

Sighing, he sat back and looked down, seeing cloth beside him. Juunanago's shirt….

~*~

"How sad," she laughed, rolling her eyes. Bulma glared at the female cyborg in disgust, but Juuhachigo only chuckled and shrugged. "Oh don't be such a pussy, ningen."

Bulma would have replied nastily if it wasn't for the gag in her mouth. Her eyes returned to the television monitor before her, showing her nude son taking the male cyborg's shirt into his hands and staring at the cloth. Her beautiful little prince, so noble. He was willing to sacrifice everything for her, even his virginity to a monster.

What was that look in his eyes?

Worry! Only worry… for her. He had no idea she was just a few doors down, watching all the chaos from a television screen. There was a camera within the wall across from the bed. Bulma had been forced to watch the screen, staring into Juunanago's eyes as he stared at the small hole in the wall, a faint smirk on his lips as he insulted her son and made her watch.

All the while she never lost the irony. Juunanago had not lied to Trunks.

She screamed curses and damnations, but they were muffled because of the cloth. Juuhachigo glared and rose to her feet, walking across the small hotel room to lean out the window. Did she see her brother running along the streets?

Why had Juunanago stopped?

Bulma was so confused. "Release me!" she screamed. Though the words were muffled, she knew Juuhachigo understood. Proving the genius correct, she turned around and smirked. "I will; I will. Only after the kid leaves, though."

Sighing, Bulma looked back to the screen, trying to rip her arms free of the ropes. There was little hope. Blood already poured from the wounds of her attempted escapes. Her skin was raw from twisting in their bonds. Trunks climbed to his feet slowly, pulling on his clothes, never once releasing the male cyborg's shirt.

~*~

2 Months Later:

"I never returned this to you."

It was Tuesday night.

"Thank you."

They were not in a hotel room.

"She… my mother… she's finished the time machine."

Trunks and Juunanago stood together on a street corner. They were standing near each other. They could smell each other… their scents, their confusion, their sorrow. Juunanago held his black shirt in his hands, staring at the cloth, refusing to meet Trunks' gaze.

"Why'd you do it, Trunks?"

Juunanago was speaking about his sister.

"I had to," the demi-Saiyajin meekly responded, looking towards the streets. Juuhachigo had died just a few days after Bulma had returned. It was better without her. Juunanago stopped pretending to be the bad-ass. Things had quieted down on Chikyuu since then, but Juunanago still stopped refusing to cause chaos. Trunks believed, honestly, that if he really tired, Juunanago would die at his hands… but, though not for lack of trying, he couldn't force himself to do it.

He still saw the fearful confused terror in the cyborg's eyes each time they met each other's gaze.

Perhaps Juunanago saw something similar in Trunks' eyes.

"If… if it happens like we want… you and I will have never met."

Juunanago fisted the material and turned sharply on his heals. "Good."

The End…?