Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Strong Heart ❯ Chapter 19 ( Chapter 19 )

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

Trunks let his head sink back against the headboard, feeling the breath enter and leave his body. He could hear the swell of his lungs, the air creeping like water through his system, in and out. Each breath sounded more shaky then the last, the syringe dangling, still embedded in the thick flesh of his arm. He stared down at it, deep in one of a million pores, the sweet little prick that could give him the serenity even sex could never dim. Like injecting an orgasm right through his arm that could entice every inch of his body that it trickled into.
He closed his eyes, his dry lips meeting as he swallowed, feeling the liquid euphoria fill him up. Erasing the shame, the embarrassment, the every feeling and gesture he never would have noticed before. Mirai had made him more human than he had felt in at least ten years and it scared him. Yes, it honestly scared him. More than this drug and the poison it could contain, more than any car crash or frailty that living flesh could make him vulnerable to; he felt more akin to his mother now than he even did with his father.
For years he had loved that he was Saiyan - that that was his one greatest excuse, his greatest escape from humanity. That he never had to obey their rules or social taboos because he wasn't one. But humans suffered embarrassment, rejection, shame... and now? So did he. And no, it wasn't entirely from Vegeta. The only shock in that situation was that his father had let it progress to the level that he had. No, the real shame was that he felt anything at all. When had his perfect plan failed him? When had the numbing drugs lost their effect and surrendered him to being as petty as his human side could allow?
When his dealer had asked what poison would he prefer for the evening, he'd only uttered the word 'anything'. And now that 'anything' was as much a part of him as human or saiyan blood was. He wondered silently if perhaps... if he had been born fully human or fully saiyan, if things would have been easier. As it was, he could never be like his mother. He could never gaze at the world around him and feel akin to these weak humans, with all their petty lives and petty ideals. Yet, his father would always remain the perpetual mystery even to him. Even at the closest they could come, his father would and could never make sense to anyone but Kakarot.
So what did that make of him? Never completely a monster, but never a man. Too much of both and yet too little as well.
He had seen it consume Gohan. As he had watched with desire and with some idolacy as the older boy grew, he had seen the masquerade that Gohan constantly endured. The kindness, the courtesy, the infamous brain that flourished behind trusting eyes. The human. But he'd also seen the monster, the cruelty and vast detachment of a Saiyan warrior with a score to settle. There were times when Gohan would train his younger brother and Trunks, times when his temper would stretch just the tiniest amount and the cold, calculating stare would overcome the false innocence that beat in dark, black eyes.
Everything about Gohan had been a lie. That was true enough. Even Gohan's sexual preference was a lie. But Gohan had always made the mistake that he could somehow control everything about himself. Keep his temper in check, never let anyone know just how powerful he could be with it. Trunks had been told that even before he was born, Gohan had refused to reveal all of his power to Cell, worried that he might be unable to control it once it'd been let out. But even Trunks had known, just a child at the time, that it was a lie. Gohan was afraid to be Saiyan at all. And what Trunks and him alone could understand, was that once that power was revealed, Gohan was afraid that he might just like it.
Now, Trunks mused, as the mystery drug finally took its course over his body, soon to purge his mind of any real thought, he wondered if he wasn't a lot like Gohan in a sense. Fake. False. Clinging to one side of his bloodline rather than embracing both. It was easier to be the monster. It was easier to be Saiyan because no one on earth really knew what to expect from one. You couldn't be judged or "figured out". You could never be thrown into any stereotype or dissected. You were above them. And no one could ever really know you.
But also, in that beautiful game... no one could ever really understand you either.
.............
Mirai had at one point appeared at the edge of the bed, just staring at the glazed over look in Trunks' eyes. Watching the powerful, chiseled chest rise and fall harshly as the drugs coursed through his veins. His arms and fingers would sometimes twitch, spasming from his nerve's rejection of the self inflicted poison. But other than that, the young man looked dead to the world. Tears formed in the eyes, as sometimes happened when one was so transfixed in a drugged state that they would forget to even blink. What thoughts paralyzed the youth's mind, he could never be certain.
There was so much of Trunks that Mirai saw in himself; things even he wouldn't like to admit. There was the vanity, the coldness towards others. He had known that his entire lifetime. The inability to connect with any one person in all the world, he had felt that forever. But it was easier to numb it all. It was. It was easier to be the something than to be the nothing no one understood. So Mirai had been the hero, the warrior forever in the shadow of a father he'd never even met. But he'd been something. He'd played his role and been loved for it.
In a world full of heroes, where was Trunks' place? In a world with so many Saiyans all striving for some sense of identity, where did Trunks stand? Mirai knew the inward struggle that the hybrid blood could cause. Hell, he still did. You were never enough of anything and always too much of both. When you were looked upon to feel compassion as a human might, you couldn't register the pain that could create it. Yet when you were forced to make cold, unfeeling decisions, the human blood would beg for mercy that was inappropriate. Mirai had figured that his own incompatibility with either race was a result of never knowing a full blooded Saiyan. But even though Trunks had his father, it never filled the void. He would never understand his Saiyan instincts and could never accept his human weaknesses.
.......
Trunks finally blinked, his eye lids scrapping over his dry pupils like sand paper. The world had become a massive fog of confusion and numbness. The kind of fog he preferred his life be. One big blurred out orgy. God, he almost smiled. Those were the days. He felt the breath come inside his body as though he had been under water for hours, desperately taking it in.
Something warm lay next to him, a body turned over on its side, breathing deep in sleep. He could immediately recognize the golden tanned skin and piercing violet hair that seemed such a contrast to the blurred world around it. The beautiful being that would always make things unclear yet discernable as though looking through a glass. Trunks crawled to his side, feeling the world bend and contort around him, his mind slowly being freed of the drug. He nuzzled against the warm back of his older self, spooning the beautiful, hard body that was his, yet never really his. God, but wasn't the world one big fucking contradiction these days.
He buried his face into the back of Mirai's neck, hand wrapping around the middle and slowly moving downwards. Trunks grinned wickedly when Mirai's hand grabbed his that had been lingering dangerously close to a certain area.
"I see you're awake," Mirai sighed, never moving.
"I never fell asleep my love," Trunks purred, kissing the back of the other's neck sweetly as his hand was released.
"No, but a drugged out stupor can strangely be misconceived as such." Mirai sighed, ignoring the suggestive movements of the younger version.
"Hmmm..." Trunks moaned charmingly, moving his fingers so delicately downwards once more. "Then why not keep me sober Mirai?"
Mirai grabbed Trunks' hand just before it cupped his penis, tossing the arm off of him and leaning up to stare down at the other.
"You're absolutely insufferable sometimes, you know that?" He growled.
"Of course," Trunks smiled sweetly, enchanting Mirai with the sheer boldness and beauty that one male could display. He quickly averted his attention, grabbing at the syringe that lay next to the young man.
"Why do you do this shit to yourself?" he sighed, tossing the object onto the floor. "Is reality so horrible Trunks?"
"Absolutely," Trunks laughed, wrapping his arms around Mirai's neck and yanking him down to his chest. "So why not come into my world with me?"
Mirai sighed once more, letting himself be held for a moment.
"I know you won't stop," he breathed against the other's throat, enjoying this intimacy more than he'd like to admit. "And for right now, that's probably for the best. But it worries me that you sink so deeply into the drugs Trunks."
"It's been a rough day," Trunks smiled, eyes shut as he faced the ceiling.
"Has it?" Mirai questioned, moving to stare up at Trunks.
"Unbelievably so." Trunks sighed, losing his grin for a moment. "Nearly got my teeth knocked out by my father. Nearly fucked him. And then got compared to a dead body. All in all, it's been a weird day."
He suddenly laughed, shaking his head.
"Day time television couldn't even handle this shit."
Mirai had to smile at Trunks' strange sense of humor, in that, what most people would take as the grandest insult of all time, was simply a small impediment to Trunks. Rejection was part of the game, part of the thrill. If he had given up from the thousands of people that denied him from the start, he would never have been so good at what he did. But if anything, it only encouraged him. Mirai had to almost laugh.. Poor Vegeta. Things might have been easier if he had at one point given in, if only to be rid of his incestuous son's obsession. As things stood though, Vegeta's pride would never allow him to give in if the incentive to do so wasn't already there.
"Come with me Trunks," Mirai implored, staring at the gorgeous, flawless face that lay beneath him.
"Ohhhhh no," Trunks laughed. "No no no no. I played that little game with you far too many times. I'm not in the mood for it this time. I learned my lesson. I'm not following you anywhere."
"Trust me," Mirai moved closer, knowing exactly how to get Trunks' mind off their previous "ventures". "I want to show you something."
"Sorry," Trunks groaned. "But whatever train wreck catastrophe you have in mind will just have to wait. I've got a fucking headache."
"But don't you remember our little deal," Mirai maneuvered his body, positioning his legs on either side of the other man's torso. He glared down with a crude smile pasted on his face, eyes glittering. "Or have the drugs taken such a toll on your brain that you can't remember my promise if you cooperate?"
"Hmmm...." Trunks moaned, suddenly throwing Mirai down on the mattress and pinning back his shoulders. He forced his knee between Mirai's leg, pushing it upwards against the other man's groin. "I think I need to be reminded."
He skillfully pressed his knee against Mirai's cock, sliding it up and down until he could feel the heat and blood pumping within the shaft. Mirai visibly tried to regain control, blinking his eyes when they would roll back into his head. He moved his hands to push Trunks back but was only met with more seductive movements that clouded his judgement. The same old thing, the same old seduction. Yet why did he fall prey to it so often?
Suddenly the movements ceased, the cruel, detached look for a moment leaving Trunks eyes and being replaced by a simple, thoughtful gaze. Mirai felt for a moment that he was looking into a mirror, though before this, he'd so often only focused on how his younger version differed so greatly from him. But the harsh scowl or scheming grin was wiped away from the beautiful face and only intelligence graced the lines of Trunks' features.
"You know," He said in an almost confused voice. "I think if I ever were to love, to really love if such exists, it could only be you."
Mirai glared up at him.
"You're saying that to seduce me," He insisted. "The same old game Trunks."
The other was silent, shrugging his shoulders slightly.
"Maybe," he said softly, gazing around the room as he sighed. "But wouldn't it be ironic if the only person in the world I ever learned to give a shit about was me?"
Mirai just rolled his eyes, not missing the eerie sensation he had been caught with in this conversation.
"Tell you what," Trunks smiled down at him. "I'll go with you, I'll do what you want. One way or another I have to tackle this anyways lest I be forever nagged by you and my mother. So I'll do what you want me to. But when all is said and done, when you've had your little inevitable disappointment and accepted the truth... I want you to come to me willingly. Not because I make you dizzyingly horny, not because I blind you with sexual instinct, but because you want it. Because you want me as I am."
Mirai simply stared upwards, wanting to tell Trunks suddenly of the love that Goten had confessed, of the undying affection that he held for Trunks, the real Trunks. The side that no victim had ever really seen, the monster behind the masquerade. But the moment was lost when Trunks quickly lowered his mouth over Mirai's, kissing him so deeply that his eyes rolled back into his head and his toes curled in his boots.
The dizzying, horny effect that could make even an old soul swoon like a prepubescent fool. Pulling back, Trunks stared down at him, the usual, numb expression still vacant from his face. Mirai could only look into those eyes that so many had fallen for, look up at that imploring, immaculate face so many had dreamed of. And so he nodded, knowing that if it ever came to that, he would do precisely what Trunks wanted. He would succumb to the unfeeling creature that this beautiful, breathing thing was. He would surrender his morals, his values, his everything for the desire he pulsated with whenever he came around Trunks.
And what's more, he wouldn't feel bad about it. He would know that deep deep inside, it was something they both wanted. Hell, it was something he wanted right then.
'Concentrate', Mirai had to remind himself, breathing hard as he stared down at his body. 'There's still so much to do..... And so little time.'
....................
"Can I see some ID?" The brawny waiter looked down at Trunks, the room filled with cigarette smoke and the scent of old vomit. The saloon was mostly vacant this time of day, probably only something like two in the afternoon. Begrudgingly, Trunks dug into his pocket, pulling out his wallet that was more than stuffed with cash and whipping out his driver's license.
The waiter just looked at it with hardly a passing glance before tossing it nonchalantly onto the table top.
"Be just a minute on that," He said in a bored voice.
"Wait, aren't you going to card him?" Trunks asked, glancing over at Mirai who looked exactly the same age as he did. The waiter's eyes lazily slid over to Mirai who simply smiled upwards before the brown haired man rolled his eyes and trudged off.
"Now what the fuck is that logic?" Trunks grumbled, stuffing his ID back into his enlarged wallet. "No wonder I never come to this shit hole anymore. And look, they only even gave us one fucking water."
Mirai just sighed, sliding the glass closer to the younger man.
"You really ought to control that nasty attitude of yours once in a while Trunks," Mirai said. "Pick your battles. It's no big deal."
"What are we doing here regardless Mirai?" Trunks groaned, supporting his weight on his elbow. "or is some little cripple boy gonna walk in and get castrated in a bar fight or something?"
"I hardly find that funny," Mirai snorted in a very superior fashion. "If you must know, we're getting you a drink."
Trunks raised his eyebrow, leaning over the table suggestively.
"What.. are ya trying to get me all liquored up?" he grinned. "Gonna take advantage of me?"
Mirai just rolled his eyes.
"Like I'd need to get you liquored up to get laid Trunks," he crossed his arms.
"Yeah, but it sometimes helps," The younger laughed. "here, quick, I'll slip myself a roofy!"
Mirai had to give a half smirk to that one.
"You're a character Trunks," He laughed. "I have to give you that."
"You're going to give me a lot more once you hurry up and tell me what this is all about." Trunks sat back in his chair, folding his hands together. "Where's my next example of love?"
"We're not here about love," Mirai stated calmly. "We're here just to get you a drink. You won't be learning about love today."
"Then what about," Trunks asked, suddenly interested.
"We're going to learn about you." Mirai leaned forwards. "We're going to dissect your mind today, specifically, your memories. I just need to you agree that you'll cooperate, no matter what the conclusion we come to."
"I already told you Mirai," Trunks said softly. "Whatever the result, whatever I need to do, that's fine. Just don't be so disappointed when you don't find me jumping through fucking hoops in the end. As long as I get what I want, I don't mind the means."
"Good," Mirai smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that.
He quickly took a device out his pocket, carefully setting it down on the table top, still clutched in his hand. Whatever it was appeared to be fragile, and most definitely capsule corp made. Tiny little sprockets and lights glittered along the metal device that stood perhaps three inches thick and six inches tall, perfect to be held in a man's hand and apparently designed for such.
Trunks just stared at the thing, shrugging his shoulders once more.
"So what it is?" he asked, slightly curious against his better judgement.
"It's a control device that goes with this." Mirai informed him, holding up a thin, square little chip that fit snuggly between his pointer finger and thumb. "It's a memory chip I swiped out of Bulma's lab."
Trunks laughed heartily, loving that he'd placed two and two together. Mirai seemed slightly startled, gazing at him with curiosity.
"My mother was looking for that the other day," Trunks grinned. "Even accused me of taking it. I TOLD her that you weren't above sneaking things out for your own usage."
Mirai raised his eyebrow, smirking as well.
"I actually did her a favor," He informed the other. "She had a few wires in the wrong place. My mother claimed it had taken her years to finish this very instrument because of that same reason. I probably bumped your mom up at least several years. She had programmed this to make you relive memories as though you were just reliving them through your own mind. With my little touches, we can BOTH be part of your past as though we're merely looking in on the outside. It's really quite amazing if I do say so myself."
Trunks had been listening quietly for once, eyes unreadable as they nearly always were. His hands folded so delicately upon his lap began to fidget at Mirai wore on about his accomplishment, Trunks' mouth twitching from time to time as if to interrupt.
"So... we're going to be inside my brain." He questioned slowly, taking the chip from Mirai's fingers. "Through this little thing, we're going to relive my past... see my old memories as if they were a movie."
"That's the plan," Mirai grinned. "Or are you uncomfortable with me knowing your past Trunks?"
The striking blue eyes righted themselves, Trunks lifting his head in superiority before running his fingers through his hair.
"Not at all," he grinned arrogantly. "My life is an open book. Anyone can take a piss on the pages."
...............................................
They stood out in an open field in the middle of what seemed to be virtually no where, the wind blowing soft, warm breezes as Trunks merely sat with his legs crossed on the wheat. Mirai was tinkering with the "miracle" device, cursing from time to time before handing the chip carefully to Trunks.
"Place it behind your left ear," He instructed. "it might hurt slightly when it clips on, but it should be very quick. Hold it in place for several moments to insure it's on there. When I give the word, I want you to think of exactly what I'm asking you to so that I can get a very direct signal on the specific memory I'm looking for. Once I get it, I'm going to lock us in and from there, despite what your mind will be currently thinking of, we will simply be watching your memories from the outside."
"What will it look like?" Trunks asked curiously.
"Like one entire projection screen over your entire world," Mirai answered. "Whatever happens outside here, we'll be completely helpless to stop it. We will move and we will talk and if anyone is outside the projection, they'll see and hear everything but the memory that we're living inside."
"Ahhh.. " Trunks nodded. "So that's why we're all the way out here. I see."
He did precisely what he was told, refusing his desire to itch the little chip when he felt the sting of its locking onto his skin. Mirai just watched, breathing heavily as if exhausted from the short little flight they'd had on the way out here.
"Alright," He said, pressing several buttons on the device. "I want you to think of Goku, Trunks. I want you to think of him on that day by ChiChi's grave. I want you to remember how you felt that day, everything you did with him. Think of it vividly and tell me when you have it."
With a sigh and a heavy feeling of foreboding, Trunks closed his eyes, searching his mind for exactly what Mirai needed before nodding.
Opening his eyes, he was met by an entirely different world, the bright, high sun gone from the sky. Red and pink and orange and yellow streaks ran across the fading sunlight, the stars beginning to show far in the distance. There were trees and the grass beneath his feet was green and lush, signally spring time. He could even smell the air, the life that simply thrived around him when the place he could recall leaving was limp and dying with approaching winter.
And then he heard the sobs and muffled cries, smelt the burning, salty scent of tears. Glancing behind him, he could see Mirai walking nonchalantly through isles of mourning people, apparently attending a funeral.
"Jesus you asshole," he laughed. "They'll see you."
"No," Mirai rolled his eyes. "They won't. This is your memory Trunks. This is how vivid you remember what you'd done. See? Look over there."
Trunks glanced over towards where Mirai pointed, jumping slightly when he saw himself, head lowered in mock grief. He was blown away by how clear and yes, how vivid everything was. It wasn't dream-like or foggy like a memory often felt. It was a whole new world! Everything to the size and shape of the chairs, to the way that the wind caught his mother's hair; it was amazing. He watched his own beautiful body go through the motions, exactly as he had remembered doing them. Wiping at dry eyes with scented handkerchiefs, smiling sadly and pitiably when people hugged you. Noding kindly when they offered their empty condolences, as if you'd truly given two cums about the blasted, useless woman.
You would have sworn it was HIS mother the way that people fussed.
Still, it was if he had blinked into an entirely different world, the memory SO absolute that he couldn't even recall having noticed half of the things projected. And yet there was a creeping feeling of foreboding that sank into the pit of his stomach, his heart fluttering slightly at what he knew was coming. Was he excited to be here? To be reliving one of his greatest accomplishments? Of course! But then why did he suddenly feel cold dread wrap around him? Why did the heavy feeling in his stomach seem to cause such unbearable waves of nausea?
"Yes," Mirai was saying, oblivious to Trunks. "You may not recall everything being so clear. Hell, you probably never even noticed the pin stripes on this guys' suit", he pointed. "Or the smell of this woman's perfume. Memories aren't made that way. That's the beauty of the chip. Whatever you don't remember, it will recall. Things you never realized your senses took notice of, were stored away, only able to be projected because of that chip. You'll see things you don't perfectly recall but they happened just the same as anything else."
Trunks nodded and quietly watched, as Mirai did, when others began to leave, solemn faces crawling and ducking into old cars that just as slowly rolled away from the cemetery. Vegeta held Goku, the scene permanently engraved and perhaps even prolonged in Trunks' memory. Just seeing the two as both his idols, both his desires, holding onto one another in such an intimate embrace made his blood burn, years after the fact.
Goku though was, as he recalled, entirely belligerent and inconsolable, throwing his body in a rather dramatic and pitiable display over his dead wife's grave. Vegeta's eyes seemed less then impressed, his body tense and uneasy as he watched Goku sob. Goten's eyes, as Trunks recalled more vividly than he cared to admit were, as always, fearful and protective of the grieving man, only Vegeta's kind words finally forcing him to leave.
And there it had happened. When the last of the "mourners" and "grievers" had said their tedious goodbyes, Trunks saw that he alone remained, standing behind the incredible saiyan hero, eyes as dangerous and gleaming as a conscienceless murderer.
True, it was him. There was no denying it. But it felt suddenly like an entirely different experience to be watching from the outside, to see yourself as others only could. He knew the beauty, he'd created the strength, but to see the cold, cruel detachment in his own eyes.... To watch the unfeeling pupils alight only when scheming complete travesties... it was almost as though the fragile mind couldn't handle it.
Trunks watched himself approach the bent over figure of Goku, not missing the malicious look covering his face. Yes, he remembered this. Yes, he knew the outcome. But at the time, it had seemed so erotic, watching the shoulders of the handsome Saiyan shake with grief; bent over his wife’s grave at a painful angle. Now he watched it with a numb fascination, torn between the strange nausea he seemed be experiencing and the amazing victory that was about to ensue for him yet again.
The Trunks from memory looked around, eyes gleaming as he slowly put a comforting hand on the other man’s back, rubbing gently as Goku looked up in surprise. Mirai and Trunks just watched, standing not even four feet away from the scene.
“Trunks,” Goku said uneasily, moving slightly backwards.
Trunks had to smile to himself, watching this all play over again. He knew that look of fear, of uneasiness. Everyone used it around him. And seeing the uncertainty in Goku’s eyes, watching with fascination, Trunks had realized how easy this would be. He could remember feeding his confidence with that look, using it to achieve what had once been called the impossible.
“I’m sorry Goku,” He had purred. “I didn't mean to startle you. I just thought you might could need…a friend or something.”
Goku sniffed, turning away to look at Chi Chi’s grave once more. Tears ran freely down his face, yet his voice remained even.
“I could have sworn you left with the others,” The older Saiyan breathed, apparently ignoring or perhaps even oblivious to the signals Trunks was throwing at him.
“I came back.” Trunks shrugged. “As I said, I didn't think you needed to be alone at a time like this. Alone time can come later, Goku. You need a friend right now.”
“No,” the other Saiyan shook his head, lips forming a sob. “I need my wife right now.”
Trunks watched himself gather the older man into his arms, pulling Goku’s head down to his shoulder as the Saiyan cried. ‘Oh yes,’ he almost said aloud. ‘I remember this part.’ Mirai glanced over, watching the other's reaction but saying nothing.
They both watched as Trunks let them fall to the ground in a heap, laying on his knees and supporting the other man in his arms; feeling the cold tears soak into his shirt. Goku had completely lost himself in the moment, crying out in desperate sobs, bawling like a child against Trunks' warm, offered body. Perhaps for Mirai, the greatest shock up to this point was seeing his flawless hero in such a state. The once-thought impenetrable Goku collapsed to his knees in grief. As Mirai thought of it, he couldn't remember ever having seen Goku cry or even come near it. It was alarming to witness.
“Shhh… Shhh..” Trunks heard himself whisper, fascinated by the scene. “I know how you feel.”
Goku pulled back, almost irate from behind his tears. Trunks could recall having felt an amount of fear, being faced with an irrational super hero.
“Bullshit!” He sobbed. “How could you possibly think you know how this feels?!”
Trunks watched, completely obsessed with this rerun; watching his younger self pull away, jumping to his feet and feigning pain. He suddenly had to glance away, the features and lines of his face so like that of mannequin, so false like that of a puppet -there for a moment, gone the next- never having changed the creature inside.
“You think I’ve never lost anyone before?!” He watched himself shout, seeing the false emotions play over a usually stoic face. “You think I was always like this?!”
Trunks had to smile to himself wearily, dodging a glare from Mirai. He'd never lost a thing in his lifetime, nor had he ever given a damn enough to care if he had.
“You're just like the others Goku!” he fake cried, burying his laughing face against his palms. Trunks looked away again. “You think I’m completely heartless! Completely incapable of pain!”
Goku righted himself immediately, face flushed from crying and embarrassment at his outrage. He’d had no right to lash out like that or assume anything about the other. He walked hesitantly towards the Saiyan, reaching out to comfort the shaking shoulder, unaware that beneath the covered hands, Trunks was laughing in victory. And yes, he didn't need to watch to remember it.
“No, you’re right,” Goku sighed. “I’m sorry Trunks. I didn’t mean that, I-…. Who did you lose?”
Trunks turned on him suddenly, wrapping his arms over the tall, broad shoulders and staring into the dark eyes. Goku tensed immediately, struggling slightly to pull back from the close position.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Trunks whispered, holding the other in place. “I don’t want to focus on that. Right now, it’s time to heal your pain Goku. I can’t stand to see you like this. You’re an old friend, just tell me, what can I do to make it better? Anything.”
Goku just stared at him, completely silent, unable to register the closeness of the other man’s body pressed against his own, the heat emanating from Trunks’ very pores radiating around him. He was becoming delirious with his confusion, the day simply too much to handle suddenly.
“Trunks I-..”
“Don’t worry Goku,” Trunks smiled, moving one hand very slowly down the handsome chest of the other man, trailing his way downwards. “I said anything.”
He grabbed the older Saiyan’s cock right through his pants, holding Goku still as he struggled to get away. Trunks felt the nausea whip around in his stomach and he almost wretched right into his mouth.
“I meant it.”
Goku tried to push him away, feeling vulnerable by his penis being at the mercy of this monstrous creature. He pushed at the shoulders that pressed against him, unable to believe that he was fighting more of a battle with himself than even Trunks.
“Don’t struggle Goku,” Trunks snapped, grabbing the beautiful face with his free hand and pulling him downward. “you’ve been strong enough for one day.”
One kiss. That’s all it ever took. They’d fight, they’d deny, they’d struggle with all their own will power and all it ever took was one kiss to destroy years of self control. Years of supposed “heterosexuality”, years of being slaves to the bitter old, biblical ideas of monogamy. How easily morals could be dashed to pieces. At least, Trunks had to roll his eyes bitterly, in those days.
Mirai watched in silence, having stayed mute through the entire ordeal, more concentrating on Trunk’s reaction rather than this own. Something strange had affected his younger self, watching as the two Trunks’ seemed somehow different now. The one that had Goku seemed positively reeling in the moment, deliriously content with his victory. The present Trunks seemed almost bothered by it, at times staring away as if almost in shame, whether or not he realized it.
How easily Goku had given in though. The idea had seemed so ludicrous, so unbelievable--nothing more than an absurd rumor. Now, Mirai was faced with the reality of Trunks’ power over people, the undefeatable Goku letting his eyes roll back into his head when the younger Saiyan slid to his knees, making kiss trails all down the well toned torso.
“What do you want me to do Goku?” The version teased, slowly unzipping the other man’s pants and breathing hotly against the crotch area.
“Trunks, please,” Goku nearly begged, trying to right himself. “Please, I can’t do this. I can’t!”
“Nonsense,” Trunks smiled, slowly slipping his hand into the warm pants. “This is your therapy, your medicine. We’re going to make you well again Goku. And no one will ever have to know.”
He smiled up innocently, pulling out the erected penis right in front of his face.
“It’s our secret. I promise.”
Trunks had to look away, suddenly feeling the overpowering urge to vomit. It was uncontrollable as he heard the familiar sounds of sucking and slurping, his stomach turning painfully. He covered his mouth, clutching his stomach. He couldn’t understand what was wrong anymore than he could cure it, crumpling down into sitting position and breathing hard.
"What the fuck..." he panted.
How this had seemed so erotic at the time; Goku crumpling pieces of his wife’s gravestone in his hand, lips turned up in ecstasy at the single greatest blowjob of his life. What seemed so appealing at the time now sickened him uncontrollably, rendering him speechless and appalled. And the more powerful it came on, the more he couldn’t understand it.
“I thought this was your favorite part,” Mirai said calmly, coming to his side.
“No,” Trunks shook his head, swallowing down the urge to vomit. He hated that Mirai saw him this way. He hated that he was registering any change yet it seemed his body had a mind of its own. Perhaps the program was to blame. “The last part’s always my favorite.”
“But you didn’t stop at just once with Goku, did you? He was different. He was more. You slept with him for over a month.”
Trunks only nodded, resisting the urge to look over at the two engaged in their act, figuring it was about the time he had tossed a condom at Goku and simply said “You want to fuck me, fuck me.”
“He was Saiyan,” He whispered, examining the grass under his feet and trying to get his nausea under control. “I’d never been with a Saiyan before. The raw power, the sex that could last for literally 12 hours at a time if we wanted it to. The orgasms were phenomenal. With humans there was always this sense of a lesser being graced with your time. Perhaps, I found some equality in Goku, however much we differentiated. Sexually, we were insatiable though.”
He chanced a glance over towards the two, stomach flip flopping when he saw Goku enter him for the first time, that painful push of an enormous, hard cock finding its way against his prostate. He recalled how he had shivered in anticipation of it, nearly crying out loud when it bore into his body as deep as he’d ever felt anything go. He’d sworn it would tear him in two when the painful thrusting began, Goku surprisingly grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking it backwards as he pounded away.
“He could get me like this for hours,” Trunks sighed, closing his eyes and turning away again. “It was like we never ran cold. The days when he tried to deny me were the greatest as I could so easily overpower his control, forcing him against the wall and playing the dominate role for as long as I wanted. Some times it was like a game or something. We’d meet somewhere in the sky, trying to levitate our bodies for as long as our minds could remain focused on it and eventually finding ourselves waking up in some remote part of the world.
“We never talked and I knew that made it easier. Perhaps, my idea of making it medicine worked better on Goku than I had originally assumed, his mind viewing me as nothing more than an object to release the pain upon. I think I liked that Goku could distance himself emotionally during sex, never seeing me as anything more than a sparring partner or something. He may have belonged to me in those days physically, but emotionally, his heart had been buried in the grave next to her.”
He nodded towards ChiChi's grave, eyes averted away from the two 'lovers'.
“How do you know he never felt anything for you?” Mirai inquired, thrilled that Trunks had revealed this much. The paleness had for but a moment left the younger man's face, his eyes lowered as he breathed hard.
“It was easy." he sighed. "He just never fell in love with me. I can always tell when someone wants me, because basically, everyone does if I want them to. But he just never let himself feel anything more for me than a possible resentment and mostly desire. For those hours we were together, I freed him in a way not even she could. I took away the pain and the remembrance. I freed him from the memories and the dwelling and the observing and the regretting. I took it all away and gave him only pleasure of the body. You can’t say I never did anything good!”
“Apparently, Gohan didn’t share your sentiments.” Mirai scolded, partially disappointed that the possible "regret" was now almost wiped entirely from Trunks' body language.
“Ahhh… Gohan,” Trunks smirked, returning back to his normal self against Mirai’s wishes. “Now there is a whole new tale. Tell me, do you have front row tickets for that one?”