Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What You Need ❯ Part One ( Chapter 1 )

Genre: Angst/Romance

Rating: NC-17 for Gratuitous Sex and Language SM NON-CON

Warnings: Yaoi Gohan x Trunks -A present timeline Truhan. This is my first attempt at writing by myself, so please excuse any mistakes.

Disclaimer- I don't own them. Just thought I'd take them out and let them play a little while in my world.

AN: Gohan is divorced from Videl and works at Capsule Corp. Has recently been made Vice-President of Research and Development now that Bulma has retired. Trunks and Gohan live in the Corporate High Rise. One floor away from each other. Just because I want them to have easy access to each other. Could happen...

What You Need

Part One

(Trunks' POV)

Damn I hate work. OK... a quick stretch, a long slow breath, and I'm out of here.

Man, what a slow day. Slow, as in boring. Mind numbingly so. I think I fell asleep during the board meeting.

Goten tells me that I complain too much. He tells me to consider the alternatives. I could be like him, out of work and out of money.

He's got a point.

Wonder what Goten's doing tonight.

I haul my numb ass and aching back out of my office chair and with a quick wave and a smile tell my secretary to call it a day. He gives me a ghost of a smile. You know, the type you're never really sure you actually saw?

They do that a lot to me these days. The staff that is. They don't hate me exactly... but nobody wants to be the first to admit it.

But then it's my own fault. The tantrums. The missed meetings. The staff changes.

And the practical jokes. Oh, I'm not proud of them, well... some of them were pretty great...

But I'll admit that maybe I went too far a time or two. Especially with Gohan.

What can I tell you? There's a sucker born every minute.

But... Ah shit. I can't do that. Not anymore. And not to him...

I guess his ideals about decency are starting to rub off on me. Even if I don't want them too. Even knowing that he can't stand me, I still find myself wanting to be a better person, if that's any indication.

Most of the time.

Well, all right, some of the time. But I'm trying, okay? What do expect from me?

So now all that remains between me a forty-eight hours of blissful freedom is the elevator ride and oh, great, I get to share it with Mr. High Morals himself.

Wonderful.

Here's a guy who likes to let me know just what he thinks of me. At every fuckin' opportunity. Not out loud, oh no. He has this cool look, the appearance of carefully unconcealed disgust every time he knows that I'm looking at him. I've never seen him look at anyone else that way. Only me. It's my own special expression, reserved just for me, designed to let me know just how much he hates me.

And maybe I deserve it. Probably why I don't fire him. Even though mom would probably just rehire him, after cussing me out of course.

And fuck, he knows it.

Thing is though, I know that it's all just a crock of bullshit. The way he acts. I just haven't worked out how to call him on it.

Yet.

As I move into the lift and stand alongside our newest Vice-President of Research and Development, I glance at him once or twice, hoping to catch his gaze.

He glances back. He always does. He can't help it.

And "bingo"! There it is. That -you disgust me, Trunks, but I'm too decent to ever admit it- look.

It's a lie. See, I've seen him look at me when he doesn't know I'm watching. It's subtle, but it's there.

He wants me. The fucking savior of the world, holier than thou, Gohan, son of the great fighting genius -but otherwise mentally challenged idiot- Goku, wants me.

We have this weird "thing" existing between us. This dynamic, for want of a better word. There's this... I don't know, this "scent" between us. A smell of sex and tension that we create whenever we're near each other. It's so thick I can taste it. I know it and I know that he knows it, too. But he won't admit it and it's driving me up the Kami-damned wall.

Why? Fuck knows.

Do I love him? Fuck no!

I just... want him. It's that simple. I don't try to justify it. If I did that every time I decided to do something I'd never get anything done. Leap in feet first, I always say.

I've tried to get his attention. Believe it or not. Hey, I'm just being realistic here. I haven't been attracted to anyone else in a long time and my hormones are in overdrive. I need him. Not that I'm usually that choosy. I've never limited myself like this before. Hell, they might as well install revolving doors to my suite.

But not anymore. I've lost the joy of bed-tag for the bigger thrill of tagging the top tail on the board.

I'm not getting any results so far, though.

The staff calls him a cold blow and with good reason.

I've tried being friendly and he gives me "properly polite".

I've tried parading the competition in front of him and he just smiles at them with pity on his face.

Fuck.

I've even tried baiting the cold son of a bitch, but he won't rise.

Damn, I'd give anything to get a rise out of him. I almost snicker at the image. Just a flicker of something other than cold disdain.

As the lift ascends I do my usual drill. "Gohan." I nod to him.

He slits a glance at me through those black-framed glasses. "Mr. President."

The way he says that, it's an insult. Somehow he manages to infuse those two words with all the nuance of the word "asshole". Doesn't even call me by my name anymore. For Kami-sakes, he knew me when I was still in diapers.

"Got a hot date tonight?"

He sighs tiredly. "No, I don't plan on doing anything tonight but resting. I would suggest that to you as well. I noticed you all but fell asleep in the board meeting today. Perhaps a little more sleep and a little less socializing might be in order?"

Oh, good one, Gohan. I nod, gifting him with the patented Vegeta-smirk.

His cheek twitches. He hates that smirk.

Maybe I'm using the wrong approach here. Maybe what I need to do is up the ante just a bit.

Maybe I need to be just a bit more... obvious.

I put on my best "poker" face.

"Gohan?"

Another pointed glance, another sharp sigh. "Yes, Mr. President?"

Ah.. there it is again. Asshole unsaid. That makes this so much sweeter.

"Fuck me."

(Gohan's POV)

Oh Kami, lend me strength. It's been a long day and the last thing I need is to finish it by chit-chatting with Trunks about nothing and everything. It's times like this that I regret giving into Bulma's wish for me to have one of the luxurious upper suites to live in after my divorce.

He's looking at me, I can feel it. And Kami, I can't keep from looking back.

Catching that triumphant gleam that flashes in those cool blue eyes when I do.

I don't know what it is about him. I just know that I need to keep him at arms length at all possible cost.

I can't explain it any better than that. To try would perhaps be inviting more trouble than it's worth. Some things don't stand up well under too much investigation.

I know that he's trying to get along with me. At least that's what Bulma keeps telling me. And she's probably right. The practical jokes have stopped, but he's replaced them with little verbal attacks, insinuations -almost flirtatious in nature, that keep me on the edge. Bulma wants me to take him under my wing, to encourage his more mature behavior, but frankly, if I let dear Mr. President anywhere near close to me, I will regret it.

And so will he.

I... am drawn to him. I can't help but be. I see that wild spirit and I want to tame it. Claim it. Dominate him. I dream of him, adoring and submissive at my feet and it scares me that I could even entertain such ideas.

There have been many people in my life that have tapped into my heart.

Trunks taps into my anger, my darkest passion.

I keep that part of myself tightly locked away. It frightens me and with good reason. I struggled for a long time to reconcile myself to my own demons. To my dark thoughts. Those saiyajin instincts that rear their ugly head from time to time. The self-same instincts that drove Videl away. And I've finally found a measure of peace. With meditation and continual journeys through my own awareness, I found that I was able to push aside my more ominous inclinations.

I accepted my natural saiyajin tendencies long ago. It's hard to have all this power and strength with out also giving into the need to dominate, to control. But I have reached a place where I feel calm. A place inside where I go to weather out the turbulence that stress induces. A place safe from my normal saiyajin aggressions and appetite.

Then came Trunks.

Physically he is undeniably desirable. And damn does he knows it. Those silky lavender locks, those incredible blue eyes and, oh Kami, that body. And to be honest with myself, he's what I desire. As to his character? It is, unfortunately, everything that I have always wanted. I would feed off his willfulness. I would clash with his stubbornness. I would seek to rise over it, to curb it with my own strength of will. Making him submit to me.

And in the end that would destroy him. I am stronger than he is. And in the back of his mind he knows it. But since I have never used my strength against him, he ignores that fact. In his carefree world where every conquest is a game, he would not be prepared for a player like me.

One who takes it as deadly serious.

So I keep my distance. And up until recently, it was working to my satisfaction. We had reached an understanding, Trunks and I. We could work together if the occasion demanded it. But that was all.

However lately he has been pushing the edges of my defenses. He is up to something, I know it. For some reason, he seems to be doing everything in his power to provoke me.

As I stand here next to him, I smell that scent that I've been given to associate only with Trunks. That overwhelmingly masculine smell of a sexually mature adult male saiyajin -aroused. And it is intoxicating. My response is uncontrollable. I repeatedly remind myself that I'm eleven years older than him, and that I don't want this, as I try to curb my raging need.

Now he speaks. My name comes off his lips in an erotic purr as though his tongue and lips don't want to let go of it. And it sends a shiver up my spine. He asks me about my plans for the evening.

I can only think of one thing.

How much I hate that damn smirk of his. The one obviously inherited from Vegeta, that condescending smirk of a saiyajin prince. It's a symbol, representing everything about Trunks that I have come to know: his arrogance, his complete disregard of morality, his astonishing lack of consistency. I see him as shallow and self-serving, and yet I want him just the same.

Piccolo would say that I'm redirecting anger at myself toward him.

After all, he is just being who he is. What right have I to tell him that he can't be?

Kami, that damned smirk...

Part of me wants to haul back and knock it off his perfect face.

The rest of me yearns to pull him close to me, crush him under me and brutally take him until no trace of that sardonic mockery remains in his expression. Till his senses are full of me and nothing else remains but his need for more of what only I can give him.

"Gohan?" His voice, so casual. His face is relaxed and open. No doubt more inane conversation in the making.

Hell, I need to meditate...

I sigh softly, once more tightening my control. Why won't he just leave me alone? "Yes, Mr. President?"

"Fuck me."

I cannot possibly have just heard that.

I turn slowly, and look into blue eyes that brim with the usual amusement. His expression is challenging, careless. Taking a deep breath I stare closely into his face. I see no sign that anything is amiss. Maybe he's as good at hiding his real emotions as I have become.

I can only hope that this is my imagination.

"What did you just say, Trunks?" My voice is soft, measured. A warning.

He smiles and steps a little closer to me. Almost touching. His scent intensifies. Declaring war on my enhanced senses.

"Hard," he whispers in a voice that seems to be imparting his deepest longing to me.

My blood begins to heat, pounding through my veins. I don't know if it is desire, rage, or a combination of both.

I meet his eyes and lift my hands, placing them squarely on his chest.

He's warm. Kami, so damned hot. My palms burn. And his muscles bunch and move under them. My fingers itch to trace the lines of those muscles... to just touch him.

He has no idea what he's just asked of me.

Fortunately for him, I do.

With slow deliberate movements, I push him away. He looks shocked for a moment, but he rallies.

"You know you want to," he tells me.

"No." I drop my hands and step back from him just as the lift doors open.

As I step out, he calls to me.

"Think about it, Gohan." Again with that purr. "No pressure," he continues, the voice deep, intense. Awakening that dark passion, causing lust to rear its swollen head. "Just a release. A bit of fun. You do know how to have fun, don't you?"

I stare silently at him, my jaw working, clenching and unclenching. He doesn't even realize that the last thing I want from him is fun.

He puts one hand against the door, holding it open. Leaning stretched to the side, pants and shirt pulling, outlining that incredible body beneath. Those expressive blue eyes darken to a smoldering midnight as he gazes at me, the sultry invitation in them unmistakable. "It could be good, Gohan," he says softly, a tiny note of sincerity in his voice.

"It could be, Trunks," I tell him flatly. "But it isn't going to happen."

I turn my back on him and walk away before the doors even slide shut.

**************************

(Trunks POV)

"Trunks?... Hello? Earth to Trunks? Any one home?"

I blink and look up at Goten. He's staring at me like I've lost my mind, and right now, I have to admit, I think he could be right.

I'm frozen, sitting over my late lunch in the Corporate Dining Hall, my fork halfway between my plate and my open mouth and I've had my eyes on Gohan since he walked through the door, oh about...

"Trunks, you've been staring into space for the last two minutes," Goten tells me.

...two minutes ago. Give or take.

As I set my fork down, I force myself to swallow. I notice the glance Goten's giving me. Concern. He moves closer to me and lowers his voice.

"Are you okay?" His dark eyes flick back and forth from me to the small table where Gohan is sitting with my mother, eating and going over reports. Even though she turned over the Corporation to me last year, she still sits on the board. And she still helps oversees most of the projects down in Research and Development. Oh well. It keeps her busy. And out of my hair.

I flip Goten a grin and dive into my dessert. Chocolate cheesecake, my favorite. Salivating, I answer cheerfully, "I'm fine. Great." I slowly lick the last bit of chocolate off my fork and turn to look at him. "Why?"

"Is something going on?" He shoots another glance over at Mr. Uptight's table in the corner. "You're not...you know, "planning" something stupid again, are you?"

I'm a little pissed by that remark. Nothing I plan could ever be put into the category of "stupid". My pranks were pure brilliance. Utter genius. An art form.

I narrow my eyes a little, just to let him know that he's pushed the wrong button here. "Define stupid, Goten." If my tone doesn't convince him I'm angry, the emphasis I put on the word should.

He looks a little thrown, but he guts up to have his say. I'll give him this... for all that he's easy going, Goten doesn't back down all that easily. Especially when it's important to him.

Yeah, he pisses me off sometimes, but I love him just the same. After all he's my best friend. Always has been, always will be.

That thought softens my instinctive resentment a little. I remind myself that Goten's not being critical for the hell of it. The guy cares. Sometimes it feels like he's the only one that does.

"Are you planning to pull another prank on Gohan?" He asks me bluntly. "Because if you are, you can just leave me out of it this time."

I sniff and shrug. "The problem, Goten, is that no one around here has a sense of humor."

"The "problem", Trunks, is that dicking around with Gohan's research on chemical bandages was a bad idea."

"Dicking, Goten? Where the hell did you learn a word like that? And does your mother know you're using it? Should I tell her?"

"I learned it from you, Trunks." He pushes his plate aside and gives me the Son smile. That look of idiotic innocence he inherited directly from his father. "Besides my mother would never believe you, so go right ahead."

He leans forward and stares me in the face. It's disconcerting. Like he's trying to read my mind. I pretend to ignore him, calmly sipping my coffee. But he doesn't stop. Goten's not going to let this go. He's just got to say his fuckin' piece.

"What?" I give in.

"It took two hours to get that stuff off his skin, Trunks."

"Pretty funny, huh?"

"If your a high school delinquent. And no matter how you act, you're not one any more."

I sigh and put my cup down, twisting in my seat to face him as I look into his worried face. "What do you want me to say, Goten? That I made a bad move? I fucked up? Okay. You're right. It was a stupid thing to do and I apologized for it. And I took my medicine like a good boy. Mom lectured me for three straight hours and she let dad take it out on my ass in the Gravity Room."

I flinch almost in reflex at that memory. I was so sore I almost couldn't move the next day. And of course the fucking saiyajin prince wouldn't allow his only son a Kami-damned sensu bean. That would have been too "human" of him. At least I'd gotten a small snort of amusement from him, when I finally had a chance to explain the newest reason for my mother's pissed off mood.

Besides I wasn't getting any, so why should he.

"And just for the record... no, I am not planning any more practical jokes. Okay?"

He relaxes slightly, but he's still not completely convinced.

Ah shit, Goten, can't you give me a break? I've got my own conscience, thank you very much. It lectures me constantly.

I even listen to it occasionally.

"If that's the case, why are scoping out Gohan like that? You look like you're up to something."

I sigh and turn back to the table. Pulling his dessert plate closer to me, I spear the last bite of cheesecake he has left. Goten doesn't even notice.

Man, he's really worried about this.

"I'm not "scoping" anyone out, Goten. I'm just... your brother pisses me off, Okay?"

Goten chuckles softly, most of his concern suddenly gone. "Oh, like that's news. C'mon, Trunks, he's just being the same as he always is. Don't let him get to you."

That's the point. Gohan is acting the same as always. No change at all. I laid it all out for him, pretty bluntly, I think. And I know it made an impact. I saw the look in his eyes when he pushed me away in the elevator.

They burned. For just a moment, I saw enough lust in that dark gaze to make me want to offer it all up... to let him take what he needed from me.

The son of a bitch said no.

Okay, sure. Yeah, I expected him to.

I just didn't expect him to mean it.

Shit. I don't get it. He wants me. I want him. I mean, what's the big fucking deal here? It's been over a week since I cornered him and so far, nothing.

There has been one little thing I've noticed though. He's real careful not to be left alone with me. That's the only thing that gives me any hope. The fact that he is actively avoiding me. Ducking temptation. Makes me think that his commitment to refusing me is a little harder to maintain that he's letting on.

It's crazy. This whole damn thing is crazy, but I can't let it go.

Marron called me last night. She wanted me to come over and play for a while. I turned her down. Said I had stuff to do. It pissed her off, I could tell, and it puzzled me at the same time. I'm horny as hell, and there was a good looking bed bunny ready and willing and I couldn't be paid to go out with her.

I spent some time considering it and I think I've got it worked out. It's not just that I want sex.

I want sex with Gohan. No one else will do.

It's gone from a single perverted thought at the edge of my twisted little mind to a matter of fuckin' saiyajin pride. It has taken control of my every thought and I will have him.

As I sit here, chatting back and forth with Goten and doing my best to make the poor dope blush, I can't help sneaking the occasional glance at the big guy over there.

He's prime, I'll give him that much. Thank Kami for saiyajin genetics.

This thing between us is real. It's not just my fevered imagination. I know he feels it to. I sensed it back when he was still married to Videl and nothing has changed.

Come to think of it, he wouldn't let me get too close to him then, either.

After one final sip of coffee, Goten says goodbye. He's planning on spending the afternoon looking for another job. This makes about the twentieth job he's lost. He still refuses to allow me to put him on the payroll. Hell, I'd hire him as my personal assistant just to keep him around... and solvent.

He tells me to -please behave, Trunks- then heads off. I wonder who made him my mother.

I won't see him tonight either. He's planning on taking Bra out. I wonder how he managed to scrape up the money for that. The poor guy's got it bad. He still lives with the eternal hope that he'll find his one true love and live happily ever after. And he thinks it's Bra.

For some reason I don't have the heart to try and wake him up out of his fantasy. But I know Bra and she's not taking this seriously, at all. But she's my sister and has my loyalty. I'm not going to say anything. And well, I guess I like having the odd romantic around to remind me that shit like that is possible. At least for others.

For me, there is cold, hard reality and an even colder, harder Gohan.

I watch him secretly as I head over to chat with some of the staff from the secretary pool.

It's pretty clear that he's about to leave. He stands, grabs a couple of folders from my mother and turns...

Then... dark eyes framed in black catch mine. Probably accidental but...

Oh, Kami, yes. There it is. That look. That -I want to fuck you, Trunks, as hard as I can- look. The same one he gave me in the elevator last week. The heat in that gaze shoots right to my cock with a jolt like a lightening strike.

A split second -an eternity, and he looks away again, heading with long strides out of the dining room.

Ohhh no. I almost chuckle out loud. Nu-uh, Gohan. I caught you this time.

I set down my cup on the table I'm presently standing at and smile at my colleagues.

"Ladies? Gentleman? I'll talk to you later."

One of the new guys gives me a friendly enough nod. "All right. Play it cool, Boss." He turns back to the girl he's sitting next to, trying to talk his way into her pants.

I can't help but grin as I leave the room.

Play it cool?

Kami, I hope not.

(Gohan's POV)

Damn.

Damn it!

What was I thinking? Looking at him like that? I might as well have whip out a red cape in front of a raging bull.

But after watching the way he licked that chocolate off his fork... that pink tongue darting out, just barely brushing over the tines of his fork. The look of complete bliss on his face.

All I could think of was how great that tongue would feel, licking the swollen head of my...

Kami!

Slamming the door behind me, I program the automatic locks. I can't deal with anyone now. Right now I need to restore my control. I have to calm down. I want to finish going over the reports that I left behind when Bulma asked me to join her for lunch. Drown myself in pure monotony and try to bring back that sense of peace. The one I lost over the course of that enlightening lunch.

Bulma didn't want to talk about any of the newest projects that the R & D department was working on. No, she called me down to talk about personal business.

More specifically, Trunks' business.

She wanted to know if I had any idea why Trunks suddenly decided to play another juvenile prank on me, four days ago.

Oh Kami. What was I suppose to tell her? That I knew exactly why he did it? Tell her that her precious baby boy had a thing for me and was mad because I had rejected him? Because I was ignoring him?

That he was acting up because he didn't get what he wanted?

Just another Trunks Vegeta Briefs' tantrum in the works.

"He was doing so well," she whined. She's really worried about him. She was hoping that turning the company over to him would help mature him. Make him more responsible.

Personally? I think she's wasting her time.

He's reached the great age of thirty and he still acts like the smart-ass brat that always dragged my baby brother into trouble. And nothing is going to change that.

"Bulma, Trunks is a very competent CEO. Some of his ideas have increased profits and expanded our market shares." I replied carefully. "But the truth is that he will always rebel against the pressure of responsibility. He has a complete lack of personal discipline. This latest episode just proves it."

She looked at me with certain air of disappointment. "I know Trunks better than you do, Gohan. I don't think this is just some form of rebellion he's demonstrating here."

I raised my eyebrows, but other wise remained silent.

She smiled patiently and went on, her finger drawing lines in the condensation on her water glass. "I think he's trying to get attention... And he's scared."

"Scared?" I shook my head. Trunks wasn't afraid of anything.

"Yes," She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. "When everything is going smoothly, he lacks the attention he needs. So he screws up and pulls some stupid stunt that will get it for him. Even if it is negative."

"So he needs attention," I replied impatiently. "I hate to tell you this Bulma, but Trunks' need to be the center of the universe is not a state secret." I sorted through the files in front of me, impatiently. "So, what is he scared of?"

"He's scared that he'll disappoint me. I think he's so scared of failure that he sets himself up to fail. He would rather disappoint me now than face it later knowing that I was expecting better from him."

"Bulma," I had to resist the urge to grin. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"Maybe not to us." She smiled and patted my hand. "But then we're not Trunks."

Thank Kami.

I realized what time it was and made my apologies. I had stacks of reports to go over in my office before I could leave for the evening. She just shrugged and handed me the files on the two new projects she has dreamed up.

I'll admit that I don't really mind. The additional work keeps my mind occupied. Quite frankly I don't want to dwell on my own thoughts.

Thoughts of Trunks. Those lush lips wrapped around my hard...

No.

So I work myself into exhaustion to help keep the darkness at bay.

Life would be so much easier if he would just turn his attentions to some other source of amusement. Go seduce someone else, Trunks.

I am not foolish enough to believe that his interest in me grounded in anything other than his love of a challenge. His pride refuses to admit defeat. That damned royal pride.

Now, as I stand in my office staring at a desk that is piled high with research data , I curse at myself for allowing Trunks to glimpse my one moment of weakness in the dining hall.

He has no idea. None at all.

Perhaps he believes that I desire him as a lover, as a friendly tumble and nothing else. Like the rest of his fan club. And perhaps he thinks I refuse him simply out of some sense of propriety. That doing the boss is beneath my dignity or something.

He would be wrong.

I desire him, yes. But there is nothing friendly about it.

He draws both arousal and anger out of me. In equal measure. As much as I would enjoy having him, I must honestly confess that I would be more satisfied in breaking his willful, arrogant attitude.

It's like he sees me as some humongous joke. One in which only he understand the punch line.

Like I said, I have this darkness inside of me. And Trunks has the unfortunate ability to tap right into it.

I want him... and I hate him.

I am fascinated by that powerful, fiery spirit he exudes and at the same time I am furious that he squanders it by being flippant, reckless and careless.

I know that a lot of the people find him amusing, even charming. When he tries.

I do not.

He represents my ultimate challenge. My ultimate temptation. And my downfall. He is everything I need, everything I want, and everything I must avoid.

I have tried to form relationships with others. Trying to find someone I am comfortable with. One or two have inspired warmth and affection in me. But there is none of the driving, raging passion that Trunks inflames in me. I do not feel compelled to own, to take, to devour them until they can only exist if they are part of me.

That is how I want Trunks. And that is the danger.

At this point, I will continue as I have been. I will concentrate on my job. And I will look inside myself to face down my own baser nature. I have denied Trunks advances so far and I will continue to do so.

I must. If I give into him, I will lose myself. And I will ultimately lose him. I am positive of this.

Sighing I remove my glasses and rub the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. The sound of the door sliding open startles me out of my thoughts. I whirl around knocking several files to the floor and feel my stomach sink.

'Trunks." I pull in a deep breath and begin to construct the tight layers of self control I need in order to deal with his intrusion. Putting my glasses back on and bending over to pick up the files I dropped, I let all my irritation fill my voice. "That door was locked for a reason. I do not appreciate you overriding it."

He shrugs and that lush mouth of his curves into its usual amused smirk. He waves his pass-card key at me once before slipping into the front pocket of his pants. "Well, I tried knocking, Gohan, but I guess you didn't hear me."

I move around the back of my desk concentrating on sorting out the mess I have just made into some type of logical order. "What do you want?" I ask harshly.

"That's not very polite, Gohan," he chides me softly, laughter echoing in his words. "I come all the way up here to talk to you and this is how you act?"

"Trunks," I slam the file in my hand down on the desk and stare at him. "You and I have nothing to say to each other that can't wait until our meeting tomorrow. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a lot to do this afternoon and I would appreciate being left alone."

The smile drops off his face and he moves around the desk. Slow and certain, he swaggers toward me, so sure, so very aware of his appeal. "I want you," he whispers to me.

With my hands balling up into shaking fists, I back up a little. "Stop this." My voice is little more than a snarl. "I mean it."

"No... no, you don't." He wets his lips and keeps coming.

His scent. Kami, I can smell him. My nostril flare as warm gusts of soap, aftershave and the musky scent of arousal meet my senses. He catches my reaction and those incredible blue eyes suddenly darken.

"Come on, Gohan," he purrs. "You and me. Think about it."

Even as I shake my head, I can't stop looking at those lips. Those full soft lips of his, imagining them wrapped around my cock, my hands grabbing painfully into his silky lavender hair, my hips pumping like mad as I roughly fuck his mouth until I come, screaming his name and filling his throat with my thick cum.

"I want you to fuck me, Gohan. Hard and deep." His voice has grown husky with desire and he leans towards me. "You're so tense..." One hand trails down my chest just stopping above my groin. "How about you take all that stress out on my ass?" He offers as his hand now roughly grabs my swelling erection.

"Damn it, Trunks, leave me alone!" The words are forced out between my gritted teeth as I raise my hands up between us, knocking his hand away from my hard cock.

He simply smirks. Not a care in the world.

He's a young fool who is playing with more than he can handle.

"I won't give up, Gohan," he answers me. "I know what you need. What you want." He shrugs again, as if the answer is so simple. "And I'm right here."

"No," I whisper, an obvious lie.

"Yes," His face is so close, his breath on my lips and I... I can't... oh Kami, help me....

I am faced with a decision. I am confronted by a war that seethes inside me. Once more I struggle between my desire and my rage.

I do the only thing I can think of.

I haul back and punch him in the face, right off his feet and onto that perfect, tight, little ass.

Damn that felt good.