Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Stroke ❯ Chapter 1

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

Haha!! I can type again!!! Because I now have figured out that my computer here at work can read and write to cd-rw's, I can get some typing done, so when I finally have internet access again, I can post a flurry of new fics! Yay!!
 
The Stroke
 
By: Chibi Hoshi
 
Rating: NC-17
 
Warnings: YAOI!! Lemons. Songfic, to Billy Squier's 'The Stroke'. Multiple pairings.
 
Pairings: VxG, GtxT, TlxBd, MTxGh
 
Author's Note: This is an awesome classic rock song, and if you haven't heard it, you can at www.billysquier.com. It revolves around masturbation, handjobs, and sex in general (most of his songs refer to sex in general). This is pure smut. No plot, no reason, just action. Enjoy.
 
 
The Stroke
 
“Now everybody, have you heard
If you're in the game, then the stroke's the word.
Don't take no rhythm, don't take no style
Got a thirst for killin', grab your vial...”
 
We're at it again. The eternal struggle, vying for dominance, mastership, for the win, the kill. But the game is a little different now. Odd, that in my mind our sparring has become nothing more than a game.
 
I smirk as he takes a defensive stance, waiting for my next series of attacks. I can see the anticipation in his eyes, his body language—see the impatience. Yes, you heard correctly, my Kakarott is impatient for the spar, the art of fighting we both so love, to be over.
 
But for us, spars are different now. They are about skill, power, speed, passion, and now, lust. It was inevitable—we are Saiya-jin. The battle and bloodlust induce such strong feelings, hormones, that it is a natural progression for it to have bled over to a more intimate kind of passion and lust.
 
I attack him again, viciously, a flurry of punches and kicks, also eager for the spar to end, but at the same time daring him to deliberately leave himself open, to let me win and face my wrath. When I finally find an opening in his almost impenetrable defense, I drive for his unprotected abdomen. But instead of ramming my fist into his solar plexus, I open my hand and aim lower, fingers wrapping firmly around his erection.
 
He is mine.
 
A feral grin lights his face, and his eyes smolder as he closes the distance between us, capturing my lips with his own, hands moving up to tangle in the spiky flame of my hair.
 
I savor the kiss, savor my victory, and the spoils to come, reaching around to stroke soft tail as my hand moves gently but firmly over his cock. He moans into the kiss and I do it again.
 
Mine.
 
“Put your right hand out, give a firm handshake
Talk to me about that one big break.
Spread your ear pollution both far and wide
Keep your contributions by your side and...”
 
I reach down and unzip my pants before reaching in to grasp my cock. I gasp when I touch it—I always do the first time—and I know he heard. I shift the phone in my other hand against my ear.
 
"Gods, I want you, Goten. Talk to me. Tell me what you wanna do."
 
"Hmm... Well, first I'd run my tongue up and down, tasting, teasing, running softly over your sack before again licking my way up your cock and letting my tongue circle your head before again running up and down, up and down. Are you doing it?"
 
"Y-yes..." I gasp, using my fingers to enact his words.
 
"Good... I'd circle your head softly, slowly, taking just the tip in my mouth to suck, licking away the moisture there before slowly, ever-so-slowly sliding down over you, taking more and more until I had you all in my mouth and my nose was buried in those lovely lavender curls."
 
I moan as I slide my hand down over my cock, slowly, just as he said, the husky note in his voice turning me on like crazy. I love phone sex with him—there's just something about it that makes me so horny. Hearing the husky note in his voice, hearing what he wants to do to me, the longing and the need, and being apart and unable to really act out what we want just makes it better, heightening the desire and the drive.
 
I continue to act out his words, stroking slowly, then faster, harder, and a choked moan escapes my lips before I bite it off.
 
"Oh no, don't hold back, Trunks... I wanna hear all the sounds you make while you're stroking that big, hard cock for me..."
 
I moan again, and don't hold back anymore. The house is empty, Mom at work, Father off sparring with Goku. I am stroking harder, faster, Goten's constant words driving me higher as I pant, gasp, moan and finally scream into orgasm.
 
I lay heaving, panting, and after a few moments recovery time, Goten asks, "Where is your vibrator?"
 
"Right here beside me."
 
I can hear the smirk in his voice. "Good."
 
“Stroke me Stroke me
Could be a winner boy, you move quite well
Stroke me stroke me
Stroke me stroke me
you got your number down
Stroke me stroke me
Say you're a winner but man, you're just a sinner now.”
 
Hot hands stroke hard flesh as bodies thrash and writhe in the dance of pleasure, wordlessly screaming for more, harder, faster, just stroke and don't ever stop. The dance is well known by both sides, each reading the others' movements and wordless cries, each pushing the other to higher straits and deeper into sexual ecstasy.
 
“Put your left foot out, keep it all in place
Work your way right into my face.
First you try to bed me, you make my backbone slide,
But when you find you bled me, skip on by...”
 
Bardock pushed open the door to the apartment he and his brother shared, struggling to balance the bags of groceries piled in his arms. He unsteadily made his way into the kitchen, using his tail to steady the topmost bag as he placed them on the counter.
 
As he started putting things away, he yelled into the living room. "You gonna help me, you lazy flea-bag?"
 
"Nope..." the reply drifted in from the other room.
 
Bardock growled, turning back toward the living room, fully intending on planting his fist in his brother's face before kicking his ass all over the apartment.
 
"Turlis, you ungrateful whelp! It's about time you got up off your fine ass and—"
 
"And what, Brother?" Turlis purred.
 
Bardock simply stared at the vision his brother made. The vid-tube was on one of the porn channels, as it almost always was, with Turlis stretched out on the couch in front of it. He was nude, tail curling sensuously beside him, eyes half closed and misted with lust as he looked at Bardock, slowly stroking his erection.
 
Having lost the ability to speak, Bardock just stared at the vision spread out before him, unconsciously licking his lips. His eyes traveled over bronzed skin and ebony spikes, full lips parted in pleasure, past lean well-muscled torso to lock onto a strong hand and the erection it was stroking.
 
Further turned on by the rapt attention of his single-man audience, Turlis started stroking hander and faster, beginning to writhe and moan at the rush of sensation. An afternoon of porn and teasing himself combined with the sheer fascination of his lover, the edge was fast approaching, and he threw himself over it with reckless abandon. He arched and screamed, clutching the pillow behind his head as he pulsed thick, creamy seed over his hand.
 
After a moment, he opened his eyes to see his brother still staring at him. He smirked at him as he reached for his shirt and started wiping his hand off.
 
"I missed you today, Brother."
 
"So I noticed."
 
Turlis extended a single, cream coated finger. "Did you want a taste?"
 
Bardock took a single step forward, then abruptly fell to his knees, discovering they had turned to jello, before meeting his brother's eyes and slowly taking the finger into his mouth, all too quickly licking it clean. The finger was hastily pulled from his mouth, his head tilted up and lips clamed in a passionate kiss by Turlis, who was now sitting up on the couch and burying his hands in Bardock's hair.
 
Soon, Turlis, hungry for more, had switched their positions, kneeling on the floor between Bardock's legs as he kissed his way down strong, corded neck. His hands busily worked removing Bardock's red sash, haphazardly tossing it behind him when he finally unknotted it.
 
Finally rid of the annoying sash, he hastily unzipped dark pants and wrapped his hand around the previously trapped erection before laving it with his tongue in long, luxurious strokes. Hearing Bardock moan above him, he slowly took the length into his mouth, savoring the taste and feel of him.
 
Bardock widened his eyes in surprise when Turlis suddenly picked up the pace, and he smirked.
 
“You're such a slut, Turlis. You've been waiting all morning for me to come home just so you could suck me off…”
 
He felt a soft nip in response before teeth scraped over his cock, making him moan. He surrendered to sensation as his brother's talented mouth and tongue drove him higher, the soft brush of a finger across his opening as nails raked down his tail making his spine melt right before he gasped and pulsed into that hot, waiting mouth.
 
Turlis swallowed greedily, eagerly cleaning all traces from his brother's erection before pulling away. Standing, he leaned over and kissed Bardock sweetly on the lips. Gazing down into sated eyes, he licked a stray droplet from the corner of his mouth.
 
“Thanks, that's just what I needed,” he smirked before turning away and leaving his disheveled brother to recuperate on his own.
 
“Better listen now, said it ain't no joke
Let your conscience fail ya, just do the stroke
Don't ya take no chances, keep your eye on top
Do your fancy dances, you can't stop, you just
Stroke me, stroke me…”
 
“Hush, Gohan.”
 
“But, we shouldn't do this. Someone will hear. I really don't—” He was abruptly silenced as Mirai Trunks clapped a hand over his mouth.
 
“Gohan. Shut Up.” He pinned his reluctant lover with his cerulean stare and when Gohan nodded slightly, he lifted his hand from his lips. At his continued silence, he removed his hand completely, before claiming his lips in a soft kiss. When Gohan shied slightly, he broke the kiss and frowned.
 
“What's gotten into you?”
 
“I… I don't know. This just doesn't seem right.”
 
“Why? You were all over me in the club. Are you nervous?”
 
“Yea, I guess that's it.”
 
Trunks kissed him softly again. “Don't be nervous. Everything will be just fine, and wonderful. Go sit on the bed for me."
 
As Gohan did as he was asked, he tried to make sense of things. Less than half an hour before, he and Trunks had been all over each other. They had been dancing, started kissing, bumping and grinding, groping. The very air had breathed of sex. Yet no one had said anything, or even shot them a dirty look. Gay men were as hungry for sex as anyone else, and no one would complain about watching a pair as beautiful as Trunks and himself go at it.
 
He had been the one to suggest that they move to someplace more private to finish what they had started, but now, here, faced with the reality of it, he wasn't so sure. At the club he had been safe-they could flirt, goad and tease til they both came in their pants, but Trunks couldn't actually bend him over and fuck him there. Here, he could.
 
He leaned back uncomfortably and watched as Trunks turned the lights down and turned on the stereo, lighting a few candles as well. Slowly, he started to dance, moving in time to the music, pushing the unbuttoned vest off his shoulders, letting the flickering light from the candles highlight the contours of chest and abs.
 
Seeing his lover's reluctance sustain, Trunks turned up the music and reached out to grab Gohan's hand, pulling him to his feet. He moved them both with the music, a song that they had heard, and danced to, earlier in the club.
 
“Don't think. Just act. I love you,” he whispered in his ear.
 
Gohan closed his eyes and rested his head against Trunks's neck. He took in the smell, the feel of his lover, letting the pulse of the music fill his mind completely and utterly, as fingertips ran over his skin, playing at seams and the openings between buttons, occasionally pulling one open until he found his shirt hanging open and slipping over his muscled shoulders seemingly of its own accord.
 
Trunks continued to play with more and more exposed flesh, noticing Gohan's scent changing as he became more relaxed. He ran his hands down over strong, muscled back, relishing the way it tapered before curving out again in the delicious swell of perfectly shaped ass. Here he let his hands rest, squeezing, massaging, before using that grip to press them tightly together, rubbing his erection against the slightly shorter man's hip.
 
Gohan gasped softly and arched into this touch before finding himself quickly turned around, his back against his lover's chest and stomach, the erection he could still feel the impression of in his belly now pressed into his hip plate, just above where his buttocks curved and parted. Teeth latched onto an ear as fingers slid down his chest, fingers deliberately pinching pink nipples on the way down, and he let out a soft pant. But when those hands started gliding over hips and legs, carefully avoiding the place he so wanted them to touch, to grasp, to stroke, and soft, biting kisses rained on his neck and shoulder, he really did begin to pant, and to whimper softly. And when those hands did finally, finally move over to rub softly up his erection, he almost whined in frustration as they continued their path upward over his stomach, to his chest and shoulders. But when they again moved down, they slid under the band of his unbuttoned pants—he had no idea how they had gotten unbuttoned—under his boxers to stroke and grip naked flesh as the erection behind him again pressed into him, he threw his head back onto Trunks's shoulder and moaned.
 
Mirai Trunks continued to slowly stroke Gohan's erection, slowly moving one hand to drift up to pinch and pull a single, rosy nipple. A shudder ran through his lover's body and a soft moan escaped his lips. Trunks glimpsed the two of them in the mirror, and was pleasantly surprised at how much he enjoyed what he saw there. His own arms wrapped so possessively around Gohan, hands teasing and caressing erogenous zones as Gohan leaned back into him, clinging to him through the passion that swept through his body, leaving his neck trustingly, deliciously exposed. He saw his own teeth flash in the mirror, and before he knew it, they were buried in that soft, beautifully pale throat, on the verge of breaking the skin. Gohan howled in pleasure and thrust against him, against the hand that stroked him in front, and the erection that teased him behind. And through this, one thought echoed through Trunks' mind: Mine.
 
He started stroking harder, faster, grinding more firmly against his lover, releasing his throat to growl in his ear, “Come for me.”
 
Gohan moaned and panted in response as his body arched under Trunks's attention, dancing a more ancient rhythm as his body bucked and arched. And Trunks's eyes drank in everything; the light sheen of sweat that highlighted his form, and made his beautiful body glisten in the flickering candlelight, the cries, soft and strangled, that emerged from exquisite throat, the way his body arched and responded to his touch, and only his touch. His.
 
And he watched as those cries pitched higher, harsher, until screaming, Gohan's body arched fully and completely, all muscles straining with ecstasy as the world shattered, and he pulsed in Trunks' hand. And as suddenly as he had tensed, he relaxed, becoming nearly boneless as he leaned heavily against Trunks, softly licking and kissing his neck. He started to purr softly, and he smiled when Trunks looked down at him, his eyes clouded with love and pleasure. Trunks smirked softly down at him, a glint coming into his eyes, and Gohan raised an eyebrow in question. The smirk grew wider as Trunks chuckled darkly. “We're not done yet,” he said softly, nudging his erection against Gohan's hips.
 
Gohan only smiled before reaching up and turning slightly to kiss his lover deeply on the lips.
 
“Stroke me, stroke me
Say you're a winner, but man, you're just a sinner now.”