Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What You Need ❯ Epilogue ( Chapter 5 )

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 excuse any mistakes, please.

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

AN: Gohan is divorced from Videl and accepted a job 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, for only the reason of keeping them close to each other. Could happen....

What You Need

Chapter 17

(Trunks' POV)

Man, I love skipping work. I just love it. There's nothing like sleeping in while everyone else has to get up, then rising late and grazing through a leisurely breakfast while everybody else in the building is working their butts off just a few floors beneath me.

Then of course, there's the 'What am I going to do today?' question.

I love that question. I love that the answer is totally my call.

So... I decide to take my files to the conservatory and do a bit of work while relaxing in the soothing scents and sounds.

Not a bad way to spend a day.

It's been a tense week. We've been working on our newest engine, creating the new power cell that will run it. Nothing's been going right and there were a couple of accidents in the lab. But I think I've got it fix. Mom is in the lab going over it right now.

Mom's a romantic at heart. She's going to cut Gohan loose early today and we'll have tomorrow off together.

Sweet.

Yeah, that's right.

Gohan.

He's with me. I am, according to the man in question, the only one who can give him what he needs.

Which in a nutshell, is...me.

He was true to his word that night we talked. He left me alone. He left the decisions to me.

For two whole miserable fucking weeks, the selfish, guilt-ridden son-of-a-bitch left the decisions to me.

Kami.

I cracked. I couldn't stop thinking about him, dreaming about him, Kami... whacking off in the shower, bed, the damned office, anywhere about him.

Was it healthy to be jerking off two or three times a night every night? I was starting to worry that my self-gratification was bordering on obsession.

Worried I'd strain something.

But it wasn't just the fucking that was on my mind. Not that at all.

It was the way he touched me that last time he came to my apartment.

Soft caresses on my neck. Warm fingers on my wrist.

Shit huh? Who would've guessed? Certainly not me.

You should have seen the look on his face when the door to his apartment swung open and he saw me standing there like a lost puppy.

One look at my face and he knew why I was there.

"I want things to be different," I told him.

He looked worried. Doubtful. Mostly about himself, I think.

"It's still inside me, Trunks," he told me. "It will always be there."

I told him I knew. Told him that I didn't give a shit because I finally got it. I understood.

He doesn't need to take, if I give.

Anyway, it was a forgone conclusion. I was his from the moment I realized that I wanted him.

So. It's good. It's really good between us now.

Well. Good days and bad days.

Okay... so? Sure, it's not fucking perfect, but we're hardly Mr. and Mr. Joe Average now, are we? What the hell do you expect?

We're working stuff out.

Kami, the staff had a fucking field day when we started being seen.

In public.

Together.

Gossip and bets sprang up faster than a demi-saiyajin on a sugar high. The most popular opinion was that our recent silent and polite phase was an ineffective ruse to hide our relationship.

Got to love that one.

Through it all, Gohan and I just went on doing our thing.

I... uhm... won a thousand zeni in the "it won't last three months" book though.

Fuck 'em.

We're okay together, you know? We seem to have gotten it right so far.

Do I love him?

I don't know. It's a complicated thing for me. I know that I tell him I do and he acts like he believes it. Probably for my sake. I know that I want to love him.

I know that I can't live without him.

Maybe that is love.

Or maybe it's the closest to it that someone like me can get. After all, I haven't exactly had the best basis of comparisons in my life. Just look at my parents.

On second thoughts, don't. No one deserves to see that.

Anyway, most of the time we're pretty normal. As normal as any other couple, I guess. We share rooms; we hang out, have dinner, have fun.

The sex is good. Great. I had to get used to the intensity of his affection though.

Gohan is not a man who does anything by halves. He puts his entire soul into it once he gets me naked.

"Quickie" is not in the vocabulary.

Did you know he spent nearly two hours the other night just playing with my ass?

Two hours. Shit, it was... pretty awesome actually. He was completely focused with what he was doing. Totally into this thing, stroking me all over my butt, inside and out. Just feeling me, touching me.

Kami, by the time he brought me off I was a wreck. Just a long streak of boneless goop. I came so hard and so fucking loud you would have thought I'd invented the orgasm.

For the most part, this is what it's like between us. Close. Intense. Way more tender than I probably deserve.

But sometimes...

Oh man, how do I put it? Sometimes he needs it again. The release of his anger, the crippling tension. When things have been tough and he's starting to slip on the old control a bit, he...

Damn phone.

"What?"

"Trunks?"

Speak of the devil...

Since we got together I never go any where without it. I pretty much carry the thing with me twenty-four hours a day now.

"Yeah Gohan," I answer him.

There's a pause, thick with tension. I can almost feel it through the phone. In my minds eye, I can see him. Sitting behind his desk, his eyes closed in a furious grimace of faltering control, his white knuckled hands gripping the arms of his chair. He'd be trying so fucking hard to push it back, to keep it at bay.

His chest would be heaving. He'd be sweating.

In pain.

I don't make him ask. He never has to ask.

"Where are you, Gohan?"

"My office." His answer is not much more than a tortured groan, one that hurts my guts to hear.

It's been a bad week for him. A couple of the staff got hurt in the last lab accident. Gohan takes that kind of stuff pretty hard.

I calculate how long it will take me to go back to our apartment and do a quick prep on myself before heading to his office. Then grabbing up my mess, I hit the corridor and head for the elevator.

"Give me five minutes, baby," I tell him.

He cuts the connection and leaves me to it.

As I enter our rooms and dump my various pieces of crap on the shelf by the door, I can't help but smile a little grimly. This is part of us now - this need that Gohan has. This focal point that slays the dragon for a little while.

It's my job, my responsibility as his partner to help him deal with it. Which is only fair, since it was my fault that it escaped his control in the first place.

I was the one who removed the mask, the one that hid his darkest shadows from the world. It's only right that I help him to replace it whenever needed.

Sometimes I wonder, if I'd known what would happen if I goaded Gohan enough, whether I'd have continued. Maybe. But I don't regret what we have now.

I step into the bathroom, snagging the lube and dropping my pants as I go. I've got the routine down pretty perfectly by now. It doesn't take more than a minute and I'm greased up, re-dressed and hitting the lift again.

Gohan still has guilt about this. He's got this fucked up notion that he's making me do this.

We're... uhm, working on that...

See, what he has a hard time understanding is that I want to do this. I like him doing me like this. I always did. It was never the fucking. That was never the problem.

I just wish I could make him understand. The fact that he does care about me makes it okay. He trusts me with this, with this secret of his. This aspect of himself that he sees as an aberration but which is really just the element of darkness that resides in all of us.

It's only natural that his personal demons are deeply intense and focused. Gohan is the fucking embodiment of deeply intense and focused.

Like I said, we're working on it.

I reach his office and enter, setting the lock after I close the door.

He's on me before I even reach his desk. His big hands grope over me, pulling at my shirt, stripping it off, working my jeans open and down. A firm grip lands on the back of my neck, pushing me to the desk, pushing me over it, pushing me down.

I just go with it. It's a lot easier on him and a whole lot more enjoyable for me if I just let him do what he needs to do.

I just hand it all over to him. There's a strange sort of freedom in that. A freedom I need almost as much as he needs this.

I feel his hands on my shoulders, stroking firm but not too hard. Just enough to let me know I have to be still now. They slide down my back, grip the swell of my ass. I can tell you that the hold on this part of my anatomy is a lot firmer. He parts my ass cheeks and pauses back there for a moment.

I know what he's doing. He's checking me out. Wants to be sure that I did the prep. Any minute now he'll push a couple of fingers into me to make absolutely sure that I've gotten the job right and... Oh Kami, yeah... yeah, he seems pretty sure now.

He made me promise. There was this one time... one tiny little time that I forgot to do it and I bled a little. It was nothing, just the tiniest tear, and I thought Gohan was going to have a stroke over it.

"That's it, Gohan," I gasp over my shoulder at him. "Feel me, baby, I'm so fucking ready for you."

He makes this little sound in his throat. Sort of non-verbal agreement. He fumbles his cock out of his pants, lines up and sinks it into me. One hard, deep stroke and he's all the way in there, filling my ass. Ohhh, Kami, it feels so good... he's ramming it up me, no finesse in this, no words of romance... just basic animal fucking.

He's still holding back. I can feel it. I can hear it in his voice, in the strained tone of his deep groans. The grip on my hips isn't quite hard enough. That big dick of his isn't pounding as hard as it should be. It's always the same to start with.

Kami, he fights with himself so much. Even now, he still fights.

Bracing myself on the desk, I snarl at him over my shoulder. I flick the damp hair out of my eyes and gasp out the words he needs to hear.

"Kami, Gohan... even Master Roshi could fuck harder than that. Quit fucking around back there and drill me!"

That does it. The floodgates open. He roars furiously and changes his grip on me. One solid arm clamps under my chest and lifts me bodily. He turns and dumps me, face down and ass up, onto his office sofa. Once more those hands clamp onto my hips, this time holding hard enough to bruise even my saiyajin flesh and, cursing and shouting, he starts hammering me hard enough to shake the fucking building.

OH YEAH... now I've got to start talking myself through this.

"Hold on, Trunks. Don't come, don't you dare fucking come..."

It's wild. It's hot and deep and way too close to the threshold. I know I'm going to ache like hell when he's finished but I don't give a shit. Every little bit of this I want. I love.

The pain and the pleasure merge inside me. The bruising shock to my bowels is overlaid by the pounding attack on my prostate. All I can do is grip the sofa with both hands and hold on, gasping and spitting curses as he nails the living hell out of me.

He's nearly there. I can feel it inside me. His cock jolts hard and, with an earsplitting roar, he drives it up into me as hard as he can. He comes deep inside me, shot after shot, filling me with it, releasing his anger and his pleasure in one perfect primal moment of pure fucking ecstasy.

He collapses over my back, his chest heaving, his body trembling.

I have to hold still now. So still. If I don't, I'll lose it. I'm so damned primed that my whole body is thrumming with it. My dick is leaking like a faucet... I'm only a heartbeat away... only a heartbeat.

I pant like a dying dog as Gohan pulls out of me. Carefully, slowly. He strokes one hand over my ass and then turns me in his arms, lifting me to him, holding me tightly.

I can feel my cock twitching. The heat in my belly rising, spreading. I'm so close... Kami, so damn close now...

He kisses me.

"NOW!" My mind screams.

That's all it takes. I start coming the instant that lush mouth covers mine. Gohan doesn't touch my cock. He doesn't have to. All he has to do is hold me tight so that I don't hurt myself by thrashing around too much as my cock starts spurting, spreading heat and slickness up between our bodies, as I scream in glory, scream in fucking rapture, Gohan catching the sounds with his kiss.

"Oh...shit, Gohan..." I'm so fucking articulate. My head drops back. I'm gasping like I've just run a marathon. I'm covered in sweat; none of my limbs want to work.

I've never felt more complete.

It's a balance, the two of us. How we are and what we do.

Yeah, for the most part we go on like any other couple. The sex is loving, a lot of fun and an equal measure of mess.

And sometimes it's like this.

Our way of cutting down to the bone, of reaching the connection between us that lies behind what everybody sees.

Gohan lifts himself off me, propping one arm over the back of the sofa and looking down into my face.

His eyes are serious, his face somber. He also looks more relaxed now than he has been in this whole last miserable fucking week.

It worked.

It always does.

I guess that's really the bottom line.

We work.

We didn't start out the conventional way, that much is true. And this frantic need that we sometimes face together isn't exactly conventional either.

But, we work.

In the end, I guess that's all that really matters. It's the getting there that's important.

The journey is only one small part of it.