Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Story Of You And Me ❯ Part Six (continued) ( Chapter 12 )

I tear into the forest of dense trees in a blind race to escape what's happening. Bushes and low limbs scrape at my bare skin, but not slowing me down in the least. Above the hammering of my heart in my throat, I can hear him in hot pursuit as the sound of undergrowth crunches loudly in his wake. His heavy breathing right behind me fuels my desire to continue the chase, and with each footfall, my sense of panic increases. I've become illogically convinced that something unspeakable is chasing me, instead of just the boy I've known my entire life.

Pounding footsteps.

Harsh panting that morphs in one terror induced moment into something almost animalistic.

My only thought should be that I have to get away before it catches me.

But I want to be caught.

I quickly close the distance between us. My power level climbs to heights I haven't experienced in years, enough so that I'm forgetting how hard it is to contain it. Hair beginning to stand up on end, crackling with raw electricity. Without even trying, my adrenaline surges dramatically and I pick up incredible speed, making me almost light-headed from the blood pumping through my veins so fast, like I'm tapping into energy that's been pent up for too long.

Pushing off the trees in my way, crushing rocks and branches under my feet. I get up right behind him, taunting him for a second with the fact that I'm only inches from his ear - letting him know that no matter how fast he runs, no matter what he does, I'm going to win.

I tackle him to the ground, slamming his face into the moist dirt and using all of my body weight to keep him pinned to the rich forest floor, hearing the breath force out of his chest as he chokes and gasps for air. But I perhaps forget too often that Goten has that slight height advantage over me, and he doesn't hesitate to use it once he's composed again. Those two and a half inches seem to work in his favor, and he flips me over with what seems like a surprisingly little amount of effort, turning his body sideways to hold my head down with his hand, the other pressed to the middle of my chest. No words. Just a loud growl from deep within him as he bears his teeth above me, daring me to fight back.

And that's the snap.

That hot, familiar rip of power courses through me, more than doubling my strength and visibly expanding the muscles around my frame. With almost no force exerted on my part, I throw him off my body and slam him back into a tree on the other side of the clearing, proud of my ability to still be able to dominate him when it all comes down to a battle of strength. It takes him a second to recover, but mostly from shock - it's been a long time since he's seen me transform, but by doing it, he knows I'm not fucking around.

This is for real, Chibi.

Without any time wasted, he immediately follows my lead and pushes his power up a couple of notches to match mine perfectly, defined and flexed from achieving a state only three others have achieved in the past thousand years. The cords of his neck become taut from the supreme effort used to hold his power in check. Watching me. Swallowing me whole with his eyes.

But it's the sight of him - his body at it's maximum and ready to attack - that pushes me over that last edge of all control.

The leaves on the trees blow upwards from the sheer force he emits, and I only now notice the living energy around him gravitating into his body, using an art he knows I don't have and could never master. Ever since his father returned from Otherworld, he's taught his youngest son the art of pulling energy from nature, connecting him to his surroundings to become a part of the living Earth. I've secretly tried to do it myself a few times, but I don't have that gift like Goten does. His skin starts to glow, radiating a soft white light that makes him look like an angel misplaced among mortals.

He looks… beautiful.

Pants soaking wet and clinging to his body, barely hanging onto his hips, hair spiked wildly. Sweat glistening off of his bare chest from the unique illumination of energy he's creating. His power level has well since exceeded mine, but he doesn't attack. Instead, he locks his focus onto mine, just standing there as he drops his head back slightly to openly expose the thick muscles of his neck. The smug look on his face taunts me, admitting that he actually wants me to attack first, and I can feel the urge to lunge forward and claim what is mine rapidly starting to slip.

He lunges at me and growls with satisfied approval as his face finds its way to my neck again, squeezing my arms with his hands, furiously clawing to overpower my body. My hands snap free and I fall back against the tree, hitting my head on the hard, unforgiving surface of the wood as every fiber of my body pretends to break free. But I'm not fooling either of us - the struggle is making him wilder, and it's exactly what I want. I grab a fistful of his stiff golden hair - keeping his face pressed to the break of my neck as I take him down to the ground with me, hearing him groan with each deep inhale of my scent that fills his lungs.

He pushes off of me, but the fight ceases for only a moment, enough that he reaches around his waist and tears his shirt off of his body with one pull over his head, throwing the torn scraps of it to the side. My hands find their way to linger on his rigid abdomen for a moment as he rises to his feet, slowly breaking the contact I already find myself missing. I reluctantly stand back up, not even bothering to brush the dirt off my body or wipe away the trickle of blood running down my forehead, now dripping into my eye and down my cheekbone.

We size each other up as we pace back and forth, carefully circling as we maintain the distance between us. We both know there's a lot more to this than just another spar alone in the woods. More than the routine training we've done our whole lives to compete for winning. This one's for dominance.

We lunge for it.

A wet fist connects with my face.

The crack of a rib under my foot.

There's no mercy for anything.

We beat the shit out of each other, and with each punch and kick that connects with our aching bodies, I only crave this more. I've never craved violence. Not like Trunks has. In fact, I've done everything to avoid it. But the ache of pain and raw power I inflict on him is quickly becoming addicting. With a hard crunch, I slam his beaten body up against the same tree trunk I had hit myself only moments ago, using more force that I've ever used with Trunks before. Neither of us is holding back in the slightest, and had this been any other time, we would have stopped long before any bones were broken, and way before I could taste my own blood in my mouth - or at least once it had gotten this point. But then again, this isn't just any other time.

I lose my balance and we fall to the ground again, knees and elbows digging into our bruised bodies with little consideration as we roll over each other to fight for some solid leverage. But as I squint and try to clear the blood and sweat out of my eyes, he catches me off guard and twists my wrist behind my back, rendering me useless to fight back without breaking my own arm. He rolls me over onto my stomach, using all of his weight to keep me pinned under him and digs his knee into my lower back, twisting my arm even farther and looking for the scream of defeat that I refuse to give him.

Heavy, taxing breaths. Slowly submitting to his grip, I finally give in and stop struggling. Gradually, I can feel him dropping out of his transformation, and I release my own to bring my power level back to normal, arching my lower back slightly, and subconsciously pushing up into the rock-hard erection I can feel poking me from behind. But I'm just as aroused as he is and I need to touch him. I don't care if I've lost the fight at this point - it's becoming too much to hold back.

He pulls me roughly up against his chest as he sits back on his knees, hot skin melting to mine, slick with sweat and flexed with an unusual amount of unrefined energy. His grip on my wrist slips away, and he wraps his arms possessively around my shoulders from behind, whispering something close to my ear that I can barely make out as a desperate plea of his need for me.

I maneuver myself within the circle of his arms to face him, and without looking, I immediately go for the buckle of his belt to get into his shorts. Hot breath against my cheek, hands squeezing my biceps. I help him kick his pants off his lower legs, ending up with my best friend completely naked in the middle of the forest floor, alone for miles in every direction. It's not like we haven't been in this state before - I've seen Trunks naked hundreds of times. Hell, there have been times I've even had to wash his come off my face, but somehow I get the feeling that just getting each other off right now won't be like any other time we've done it.

Before I can grab a hold of him, he suddenly leans into my face, stopping less than an inch from touching me, save his nose brushing up against my cheekbone. I wonder for a second what he's about to do, but as soon as the thought has time to process, I feel his warm tongue licking up the side of my cheek, catching the trickle of blood from the cut on my forehead he gave me from tackling me to the ground earlier. I automatically try to flinch away, but I can manage nothing other than to grab hold of his shoulders with not much more than a strangled whimper of protest escaping me. I close my eyes. Nnnn... I don't want him to stop.

His tongue trails down to my jaw line where the blood has dripped, softening his touch over the many fresh abrasions and scrapes on my face from our fight. I grip his arms tighter, squeezing his taut muscles relentlessly - enough to probably bruise by the way it's making him exhale sharply against my neck. But the way his body shudders against my own tells me that he welcomes it. Wants it. Maybe even requires it.

The sounds coming from his throat rumbles deep into my chest, as he now nudges his nose back up around my face until he awkwardly - possibly even accidentally - brushes his lips against mine with the slightest possible touch. Warm. So soft. Like velvet. Only for a second, but it makes my curiosity for this taboo we're playing with to quickly get the best of me, and I'm rapidly losing all inhibitions to not do something I'll regret later.

I make a deliberate attempt to 'accidentally' touch his lips again in return, and he doesn't move away or give any indication that I'm stepping over the invisible line we're both trying to avoid. He's thinking the same thing I am - we want more, but... my god, what the fuck are we doing?!

The intensity between us is getting completely out of control. Shaking, unsteady hands exploring each other's bodies like we're touching each other for the first time. Licking salty skin, aroused almost to the point of pain and fevered with need. During all this, my wet, clinging shorts somehow find their way off my hips and get kicked to the side, leaving us completely naked and all over each other as we kneel together on the forest floor, hungry to satisfy each other like there's no tomorrow.

But he stops.

Oh god, Trunks - please don't stop now!

He bends over to reach behind me and grab a small rock off the ground about the size of his hand. Sitting straight up and without any explanation, he cracks it in his fist, breaking it into two sharp, jagged pieces. Keeping the sharper half, he tosses the other somewhere behind me, studying the one he chose carefully and taking a deep, hesitant breath. Almost scared to do whatever he wants to do with it, though I'm left completely in the dark and slightly concerned that this will somehow involve me.

"Trunks...?"

His blue eyes meet mine with burning intensity, silently asking for me to trust him. I don't give him any indication that I don't, but I find myself completely unprepared for what he does next.

With nothing more than a bite of his lower lip and a suppressed grunt of pain, he consciously makes a slice with the sharp end of the stone into the top his arm, opposite of his fusion markings, right through the thick muscle of his shoulder. Not a simple cut, mind you - more of a deep, jagged slice that will surely leave a nasty scar once it heals. But he never takes his eyes off of mine, staring deep into a side of me that somehow completely understands what he's doing.

I swallow hard at the fact that this has all just become a lot more real than I thought it would. I may not truly understand all of our Saiyan instincts, especially now that we're full on letting them happen, but it's starting to become clear as to what he's doing with the stone.

It takes a second for the blood to start dripping down his arm, running off his fingertips in thin streams from the open wound, but he doesn't tend to it or even look to see what kind of damage he's done. Completely disregarding the wound that has to hurt like hell as his eyes remained fixed on mine. Instead, he holds my opposite shoulder to keep me in place and rips a quick, deliberate gash through the skin over my breastbone, cutting deep into the pectoral muscle over my heart. I don't dare flinch, even though the shock of what he's done has caught me completely by surprise, and the sting from being exposed to the cool night air sends immediate chills up my back. I remain on my knees before him, watching him for what comes next, thickly swallowing the pain of his action.

And he offers me the rock.

I stare at the bloodied stone in his hand, afraid I won't know what to do with it and what taking it will mean. But with a softened smile curled at the corner of his mouth, he silently reassures me that I do. I've almost forgotten that it is Trunks who I'm with, and I return the smile I've seen so many times before.

I instinctively take it from his hand and follow through with what we started, focusing my attention on the seriousness of what we're doing. I repeat on myself what he has done to his own shoulder, clenching my jaw tightly, and feeling the skin split as I cut into it to match his own self-inflicted laceration. But it's the look in his eyes as I do this - boring into my soul with intensity that I've never seen him use - that makes me burn with desire I've never craved before now. I take his arm to pull him closer and drag the rock through the skin over his heart, making an identical mark on his body like he has done to mine, and creating an aching groan of satisfaction that vibrates through his chest in reaction to the primal act. Almost immediately, blood starts dripping down to his abdomen, and without even so much as a second thought to contemplate what I'm doing, I lean forward and lick the wound I made on him, intoxicated by the mixture of coppery blood and salt from his skin on my tongue. I eagerly lap at the damage and I look up to see him watching me with half lidded eyes, needing me as much as I need him, assuring me that what I'm doing is exactly what he wants.

I take a final lick, drunk on the taste of him, savoring the feeling of something I've never imagined I'd ever experience. I'm becoming aware of my Saiyan heritage more than I even have in my entire life, even though I'm running on blind instinct as to what it is we're actually doing. It just seems to be programmed into my body, and only now am I giving it that chance to be unleashed like it should.

I continue to watch him as he presses his palm flat against the gash on my chest, wiping away the fresh blood that's still leaking from my open wound to cover his palm with red. With precise and calculated actions, he proceeds to smudge his index finger across his cheekbone, leaving a smear of my blood on his face like a warrior ready for battle. I follow his lead exactly, making the final mark to symbolize what we really are - comrades, partners. Soul mates.

We remain facing each other on our knees, now presented with the reality that we've now become something very different because of what we've done. Not because we've performed such a primal ritual - one probably not performed to this extent with two beings of Saiyan blood since our race had been destroyed - but from the fact that we've become something we no longer have to ignore anymore. I've been connected with Trunks since I've been too young to remember. But only now - after a lifetime of refusing to listen to our souls and denying ourselves the most basic needs that have always been there - have we finally learned to accept our bond.

He leans forward into me again and I sit back on my heels, this time his hands rest on my thighs as he presses his cheek to my shoulder. Nuzzling his way up my neck with his nose. Running his hands up to the break of my hips. My own hands are already on him, and any tension I had in my body before is gone as I continue to trail my hands down his arms, flattening them over his and feeling the energy he's giving me, gently surging through my body.

Nothing said.

Only pounding heartbeats. Shaking, ragged breath.

I tilt my head to meet his eyes, finding they have the same aching lost feeling as I have - desperate for the strength we've never tested before now. He presses his lips to my jaw line with something that vaguely resembles a kiss - more so than what he was doing before - gently sucking and I can feel the heat of his mouth on my skin. Tracing his nose around my chin, touching my lips. Encouraging me to let him.

I close my eyes as his warm tongue licks a smear of blood off my bottom lip, lingering longer than needed before closing his mouth to fully taste something so precious to him, made obvious by the low moan coming from his throat. I can manage nothing except to remain perfectly still as he hesitates tentatively before doing it again, despite the fact that there probably isn't anything left on my lips to lick. He continues. Only this time, my tongue meets his.

Tasting him. Barely touching him. Grazing, licking against his lips. Languidly coaxing his tongue to intertwine with mine.

My hands grip tighter over his, now digging into my flesh as our lips start making the slightest contact. Our ministrations more and more deliberate. We inhale deeply, letting our lips fully touch each other's without trying to keep the distance anymore. Crushing them together, deepening the kiss and fully sealing my mouth to his. Unleashing an entire lifetime's worth of frustration and aggression that has never been allowed to be tried before now. Aching to find that release - the assurance to tell me that what I'm doing is right and isn't just another blind mistake. Breathing heavy, desperately satisfying something that feels so right. Wanting to find what I've been looking for ever since the moment I learned that Trunks Briefs was more than just a boy who was half-Saiyan like me, and to fulfill a desire I've had for him since I was too young to understand it.

I give in to temptation and part my lips. Kissing him. Hard.

Touching him. Tasting him.

With a loud groan in my mouth, he pulls me up hard against his body and kisses me back, leaving no part of my mouth or tongue untouched by his own. Desperate to satisfy that growing need between us that has been unleashed like a flood in a desert. My breath deepens and I can still taste the bitterness of my blood on his tongue, clutching at his shoulders, grabbing hold of him in a futile attempt to anchor myself from the force building between us. He responds by grabbing my wrists to pull me even closer to him - molding me to his perfect body - but despite his encouraging nudges and licks, I break away.

Grinding our hips together and feeling how hard he is pushes me to the point of almost losing it.

He licks the palm of his hand and grabs hold of my arousal, massaging me with long slippery strokes, but with nowhere near the amount of force I need right now. His lips meet mine again, harder this time, moaning into my mouth as his tongue takes on a life of its own. Wanting to be touched. But it isn't enough to just be touched.

Without breaking contact with the pleasure he's giving me - with either his mouth or hand - I snake my arm around his back and drape his leg over my hip, running my hand up his thigh, sculpted from a lifetime of conditioning. The physical contact between us is more than we've ever had with each other, and we're close enough for me to feel his erection pressed to my abdomen, begging to be touched.

I take his hand off of me and push him roughly up against the base of the tree behind him. Hooking both my arms under his knees, and pushing his thighs up against his chest, spreading his legs wide open, pinning him helplessly against my body. His eyes widen for a moment, as do mine. I actually had no idea Goten was this flexible, but it's making it harder to not to come too quickly. I want to hold back. But I want so much more. Goten, what the fuck are we doing?

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, painfully dragging his lips over my shoulder and pushing my knees forcefully up into my chest. Not sure of what to do, even though we're in a position that really only reads one thing. I tilt my head to the side to slightly expose the vulnerable column of my neck to his hungry mouth. He nuzzles his cheek against mine with growing need, gasping for air as his labored breath touches pleasurably against the newly broken skin on my shoulder.

I'm scared and desperate all at the same time, finding myself wanting Trunks to do it, no matter what it will make of me. No matter what this will make of us. His erection presses firmly at my entrance, still slippery from what I was doing to him just a moment ago and slick from the heavy sweat and blood dripping off of our bodies. The need for him to be inside me is... is overwhelming.

This is what we've come to - nervous, heaving breaths on our skin. Unable to swallow. Begging for something - anything - to happen since the position we're in doesn't leave for a lot of options. Trunks, please don't think any less of me because I want this...

He bites his lip with a muffled sob, too scared to make that final thrust despite the fact that I know he wants to. I want him to. I want him inside my body so badly I'm quickly losing my fear of what's to come if we continue where we're going..

He removes his arm from under my knee, and grabs a hold of his rock-hard erection, sliding it around the only place I want him to put it. Desperate, involuntary moans escape my throat as I silently plead for him to...to...

I inhale with a sharp hiss of pain as he deliberately pushes forward, smoothly guiding the tip of himself into my body with loud groans of frustration from having to go so slowly. Oh... god... this fucking hurts!

"Nnnh, Trr...u-unks...."

But he knows.

He mumbles some weird version of my name, sounding just as scared as I am that he needs this as much as he does. His muscles tense, shuddering with a mix of anticipation and hesitation as he slides his sweat-soaked body against mine, leaning all of his weight up against me. After taking a deep, shaky breath, he finds the courage to continue and pushes in deeper without using his hand to guide him, slowly giving me more and more of his thick length to get used to as he refrains from pounding me into the tree.

I grit my teeth, grabbing chunks of bark from behind me and growling deep in my chest as I try to suppress the sting from being stretched by him. A feeling I can barely make sense of. But once he fills me completely, he holds still for a second, patiently waiting for me to tell him it's okay to move since I've forgotten to exhale. He whispers something inaudible close to my ear and it doesn't take long for it all to subside into something more pleasurable. I slowly adjust to the feeling of this tight fit as it soon becomes replaced by a dull aching throb, turning my bones into liquid fire and making me crawl out of my skin with a want I didn't know ever existed. It hurts so badly, but is fast becoming a pain I don't know how I ever lived without before now.

He sobs against me as I begin to thrust in and out of him, gradually pumping into his body with more and more speed and force, lost in the feeling of how tight and complete he feels around me. It's beginning to become unclear as to where I end and he begins.

I press my face against his cheek, grabbing on to the exposed roots of the tree for leverage as I'm now driving mercilessly into his body. Overwhelmed. Almost senseless with sheer need. My breath comes in short, sharp bursts, squeezing my eyes tight as my body defies me in every way. Powerful, steady thrusts rock us in perfect rhythm and I thrill in the feeling of his perfect body now totally submitting beneath mine, wrapping his free leg around my waist and clutching himself to my body.

I get ahead of myself. I'm almost starting come already, but I desperately hold it back using every ounce of restraint I've ever possessed. With a sharp spike in my strength, I'm able to stop before I finish, making my groin hurt like a bitch from holding back my orgasm half-way, but from my apparent lack of control, I've made this so much more slippery and impossible to resist. Reserved and gentle are words no longer in my vocabulary.

I pound into him wildly as he squeezes his muscles around me with a tightness I didn't think was possible to experience. I grab hold of his neglected arousal, which has up until now not had any attention, and - knowing Goten - is probably hardened to the point of pain. I reach down and pump my hand over him in perfect rhythm to my thrusts, creating soft whimpers of pleasure from his chest as I angle my hips to bury myself even deeper inside. I can't imagine what this feels like for him, but I can barely tell where I am anymore. This has become that lost feeling I've been looking my whole life to fulfill.

His breathing becomes labored, harsher. Cheeks flushed red. Twitching under my hand. He's so close.

I cry out harshly as I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, crushing him up against the base of the tree. With one final push over the edge, I explode inside of him, just as his own hot sticky fluid drips down my chest and over the hand that continues to milk him of his orgasm until the last shudders wrack through his body. Despite each additional thrust wringing tiny whimpers of delightful agony from us, it's apparently obvious that neither of us wanted to stop.

We don't move.

Crushed up against the foot of the tree. My arm's still hooked under his knee and pressing my body weight into him as we struggle to catch our breath. Reluctantly, I withdraw from his body, releasing his leg from being pressed in such an awkward position, and sink down to lie on his body, too tired to do anything else. We're a mess.

"Trunks..." he whispers softly, creating a warm ache in my groin from hearing his voice.

"I know, Chibi."

I lazily press my face to his other shoulder - the one that bares the mark we share representing the blood we have shed for each other in battle - in our lives. Bonding us as comrades like all the Elite Saiyans have done before us. But it's the mark over his heart - the one I gave to him - just as he has given me - that binds us to each other like I somehow always knew we would be. I gently begin to lick away the fresh damage of the wound with my tongue, causing his breath to hitch from the sudden softening of my touch, melting the throb of pain away to open the flood gates of two previously restrained souls.

I've been bonded to Goten his entire life. It's just taken us twenty-four years to see it.