Blood Runs Deep
"Mary Poppins? You've gotta be kidding, Bulma."
"No way, it's the best movie ever made!" Bulma said.
"What are you talking about? It's just a stupid kid's movie." Yamucha said.
Bulma snorted and turned narrowed eyes on Yamucha. "This from the man who sang along at this very musical?"
"What? That never happened!"
"No!" But Yamucha shut up after that and Trunks was glad. He happened to enjoy this musical masterpiece and to prove it started whistling along with Julie Andrews. From his seat he had a discreet view of Yamucha on the couch, who spread his legs wide open in a luxurious stretch. His mother, engrossed in the film, didn't seem to notice. Yamucha scowled and Trunks smiled.
Just then an offensive smell invaded the room and in waltzed Vegeta. He surveyed the occupants, raised an eyebrow at the TV, then flopped down on the couch next to Yamucha. Trunks immediately tensed.
"Ugh, Vegeta, is that you??" Bulma paused the film to investigate. Yamucha too, had turned his head.
"What are you talking about, woman?" It was clear by his manner that Vegeta did not like this particular attention and Yamucha scootched a little distance between them.
"You smell like a pile of dirty socks. When's the last time you took a bath?" Bulma returned her lover's look of irritation with charmed disgust.
"I don't know, a few weeks ago why do you care?" he grumbled. Yamucha drew back in horror and Bulma cringed. Trunks wondered what the big deal was.
"Jesus Vegeta." said Yamucha. "I took one this morning and so did everyone else in this room. Get the point?"
"Shut up ingrate a Saiyan's body cleans itself!"
"Apparently not very well, go take a shower sweetie." He glared at Bulma.
"Do not tell me what to do." Bulma sighed and continued the disc. Trunks kept his attention on his father, a little glad Vegeta was ignoring him. His stomach stirred.
Vegeta didn't watch TV, but bothered Yamucha. Smirking at the human until he whipped his head around in annoyance, only to have Vegeta look away. Trunks watched, amused as this played out.
"What?!" An exasperated Yamucha finally cried out.
Vegeta looked down at him, though he was shorter. "Yes?"
Yamucha's glare fizzled beneath Vegeta's and Trunks had to smile. Yamucha was a plucked chicken compared to a Saiyan.
Yamucha scoffed and purposefully turned his attention back to the TV. Smug, Vegeta scooted a bit closer to his victim on the couch. Yamucha pretended not to notice. Trunks laughed under his breath as Vegeta ever-so-not-so-casually brought his elbow up to rest behind Yamucha's neck on the couch.
"Hey man," he was defensive again, staring at Vegeta, trying to figure him out.
"Hey what?" If Vegeta's goal was to make the other as uncomfortable as possible without appearing to try, he was enormously successful. Yamucha folded his arms and jabbed angrily at the carpet with his toe.
The program continued.
Hot emotions shot through Trunks as he watched his father pester, no flirt, with Yamucha.
Some moments later Vegeta swiveled his wrist and brushed his fingers across Yamucha's hair.
"What shit are you trying to pull Vegeta?"
Vegeta pretended to examine his nails, then looked up. "What are you talking about! Don't tell me I intimidate you just by sitting here? Surely not even YOU are that much of a pansy!" His eyes mocked.
"Pansy! You fucking....." He moved to rise but a forceful hand on his knee stopped him.
"Would you two shut up over there? I can't hear over your talking."
Yamucha scowled at Vegeta. "I'm not the one with the problem here."
"Do you want that car Yamucha I said shut UP!" Cut down by Bulma, Yamucha resettled and jerked his knee away. Of course this just encouraged Vegeta who moved closer to his victim on the couch.
It wasn't until Vegeta managed a hand under the man's rear that Yamucha sprang up.
"You fag!" he shouted.
"What IS it Yamucha?!" Bulma shouted back at him and Trunks wondered if his mother ever said anything nice.
"Bulma that freak of yours over there is a FAG," he informed her curtly, though wary of Vegeta didn't make his words TOO sharp.
Vegeta laughed with a look of indifference and strolled from the room. Bulma shouted at Yamucha. Trunks turned up the volume on the TV and wondered why his father would come after Yamucha.
When the movie was over he wandered randomly through the house. He passed the study and grew cold inside. It had been three days since that exoticness in the library and the novelty had long ago worn off. He stopped when he came to a bathroom. He showered briefly and then dried steam from the mirror.
For a very long time and without any thought he gazed at his face.
I'm a freak, he suddenly decided and closed his eyes with a disturbed shudder of breath. Miserable, he rocked back on his heels and buried his face in his hands. He had done the most disgusting thing. He refused to acknowledge it with more than a necessary glance in his mind but the knowledge was there nonetheless. For ten minutes he dwelled on it.
And then, only with the help of his stubborn will, he faced his reflection once again. He was cursed with lust for his father. He didn't want it, and it could not be helped. Even as he thought this tears trailed his cheek. It was so so unfair. He believed in karma but he had never done anything in the all his life to be deserving of this. He was a freak, he was evil, and he was cursed.
"Oh God, Goten," he cried as he stumbled back against the wall. "Please come," he whispered. "Please help me!"
He hated himself so much at that moment that he threw on his clothes and fled the room, unable to stand it anymore.
He paced the lawn surrounding Capsule Corps. and searched the sky and his senses for any sign of Goten.
"I can't take this anymore," he mumbled to himself. "It's too much, it's just too much. I don't know what that bastard wants, I don't know what I fucking want!" ..... "No, I do I want Goten and a father and a mother. That's all I want that's all that's normal but that's not all I want I want to feel my daddy's dick rammed up my ass!"
These last words broke him and he collapsed on the ground, weeping into the grass. "Goten," he murmured over and over again. "Goten."
But Goten didn't come and Goten didn't save him. And there was nothing else but to accept the facts that plagued him. And he did so with the same grim relief as does one who finally accepts his death sentence. And in the end he had no choice but to compose himself and seek out his father. And to accept whatever was or wasn't meant to happen.
* * *
Goten had run into an angry flock of geese. A very angry, unruly flock of geese. And when he had tried to gently ki the birds away, their reaction had been to act possessed and fly down attacking people on the ground below. The people had then gone berserk and started trying to kill the geese with rocks, feet, guns, anything they could.
A riot had ensued.
Therefore Goten felt it was his responsibility to calm the crowd, and keep anyone from getting hurt.
He would go to Trunks' house when he was finished here.
* * *
Feet dragging the ground, head hung low in defeat, the First Son of Vegeta III no Ouji marched towards his doom while his lover ran chasing birds. It didn't take him long to find his father. He was in the gravity room, the red light on, uninviting.
Trunks knocked on the door and spoke into the intercom. He got no response but that was expected so he continued pounding. Each pound seemed to reverberate throughout his body with a --THUD-THUD-THUD-- screaming at him to leave. But it was too late, he had made up his mind. And just as he feared and hoped they would, the doors separated and Vegeta stood between them.
Heat and steamed sweat rushed to escape the room, touching Trunks' cheeks with moistness. It did not smell bad. Vegeta was now clean and glorious.
"Well," barked his father. "What is it already?" The very power of his voice seemed to shake the walls behind him. "Well!?"
Trunks' insides turned to jello at the sight of him; all uncertainty flying out the window. There wasn't a fiber in him now that didn't want their nipples to slide, against each others, touching. The thought sent a delicious aching throughout him. He fought not to stare at the naked brown skin before him, but the knowledge that he knew exactly what lay under the black Super-Strong-CC-Specialty-Spandex tickled his senses even more. Finally he swallowed and answered.
"You aren't the only one that room was built for, get out of my way."
Vegeta smirked at his words and let him in. Immediately the gravity was on and Vegeta went back to his training. Trunks resigned himself to a solo workout and removed his shirt, now excited. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of Vegeta. Good clean sweat was what he smelled, nothing stale and nothing foul. Perfect.
He stretched, trying to make his body as attractive as possible then began, doing nothing short of things that showed off his abilities. He impressed even himself with his speed and became cocky; a mistake because the heavy gravity soon drained his energy. In fact it was not half an hour before he had trouble keeping his speed. But he noticed his error too late, and tried to disguise it through easy pull-ups.
Soon he was weakened. Soon he was out of breath. And soon he smacked faced down on the floor, and couldn't move an inch, the ultimate embarrassment.
Vegeta appeared to take no notice, for he didn't even pause in his routine. So Trunks was forced to strain his head to one side so he could call for help.
"Father," he rasped, as he was more sensitive to the air crushing his lungs now. No response. "Father!"
Vegeta stopped and slowly turned around. And laughed. A low soft chuckle that rumbled towards his ears. Trunks tired once more to get up and failed. Then it was silent save for the hum of the machine and his own all too audible, exhausted panting. Vegeta slowly walked circles around him, no longer smirking, and stopping on his blind side.
As Trunks breathing gradually slowed the chamber grew quiet. :: God, what is he doing, he's just standing there? :: Trunks didn't like at all the feeling of being watched, it made him feel scrutinized and exposed. He closed his eyes, willing the feeling to pass but it didn't so he waited.
The feeling passed.
Vegeta moved for the first time in minutes to plant a foot on either side of him. He stayed there.
It couldn't be heard over the machine but Trunks knew his back could be seen rising and falling at a pace quicker than he would have liked. His heart had sped up too. And when a trickle of sweat ran down Vegeta's leg and touched the skin of his waste he couldn't hold in a hiss. His father MUST have heard it. Trunks' body began to quiver from the intensity standing over him, above him, around him, filling all his senses.
"Son." Vegeta finally spoke. "If you were in a fight, down like this, you could easily be pinned, and beaten." More energy washed over Trunks as Vegeta lowered himself to sit carefully on his butt. He took both arms in a hold. "Like this." The hand pinning his arms behind his back was warm and strong. "At this point you would make one last attempt to get away, but it wouldn't work. Your opponent would kill you." He put his palm at the base of his neck, in a mock ki blast.
Trunks' stomach shivered at his words and he swallowed. He didn't think Vegeta's butt would be soft but it was. The hand at his neck shifted, and then five fingertips were tracing his spine, and then his shoulder blades. The slight touch broke his breath to syllables.
"And then," his father squeezed Trunks hips between his thighs and rode heavily forward on him. "You'd be dead." Both hands were placed fully on his shoulders now and slowly smoothed his triceps, laying Trunks arms out in front of him. --Oh Christ, his whole body was blushing!-- Slowly, slowly, Vegeta's fingers curled between his. The heavy body on top draped it's weight over his, and Vegeta's face came into view. "Understand?"
Trunks by now had no idea what he was talking about and barely registered the question. He was panting now and staring at his father, completely open; all passion written on his face. Vegeta's eyes ate it all up and his lips curved in a deliberate, slight seductive smile. The moment proved so intense he almost cried out! But instead he closed his eyes and counted very slowly to ten.
One. (Okay be calm.) Two. (Don't blow it now, keep your cool.) Three. (This isn't happening, this isn't happening...) Four. (Yes it is, of fuck yeah it is!) Five. (He's laying on top of me I'm actually doing this...) Six. (I can't believe this.) Seven. (This feels so...) Eight. (...so...) Nine. (GOOD!!!) Ten. (Open your eyes)
He did and managed to squirm all over when he saw the blackest, most stunning wonders he had ever seen. The eyes were all he saw and his own worshiped them. :: Touch me oh please please touch me :: Trunks wanted to do it himself but he couldn't move and he wanted so badly to rub their faces together.
Vegeta closed his eyes.
Air from both their mouths mingled and Trunks sucked in the taste of his father. Their noses touched, rubbed together, and Vegeta's tongue (his tongue oh God his tongue) stroked his upper lip and lightly brushed his eyelids in a kiss. Oh the breath and the touch reminded him of everything blissful, everything good! He only wanted more and more and all of it and he sucked in more...more...
But then an atrocity happened. Vegeta slowly rose from him, leaving a very breathless and very unsatisfied Trunks. Disbelief took him for a few moments.
"What are you doing?" he cried, the words agony. :: No, no, WHY did you stop? ::
Vegeta's voice dripped arousal, determination, and closure. "Did that please you boy?" Trunks rashly hoped for more and nodded eagerness up at him. Vegeta looked pleased.
Now that he could move a bit again he began to get up. Trunks would stand in front him and take his shoulders. Take those shoulders and taste his neck. But Vegeta shook his head and turned up the gravity. Trunks crumbled to the floor, catching a mean look in his father's eyes.
"What the hell?" His voice was hoarse with lust, desperate, angry.
"When you feel you can get up off that floor, then we can go again." Trunks could not move one solitary muscle, even his eyes were closed. "You train with me boy you train for real."
"But what, what about............. Why did you move?!"
"The time was wrong." And with that Vegeta picked up what he'd been doing last, leaving Trunks on the floor completely bewildered and wrought with rage. How could his father do that, how!!? And how dare he? Damn that bastard, damn him!
Oh God, rage and seduction did not mix and Trunks trembled inside, a zillion things racing through his mind. He finally released his anger in one frustrated cry, and fumed over being left here like this. Games. That's all his father was doing. Playing games. And games got old real fast.
But soon he found himself forgetting about games; his anger couldn't hold for long. How could he think of things like that when his body was still shivering from what just happened?
God, God, oh God that had been completely unreal. Never, never before in his life had anything so intense been done to him. And it was with his father. His father! That's what made it so good, so forbidden and therefore incredibly fucking great. But how dare he stop it. How dare he leave him like this!
But pretty soon his father seemed to take pity on him and allowed him to leave. And Trunks did as a child fleeing a haunted house. He ran to the nearest window, took to the air, and flew twice around the world in dazed fury before dropping back in his yard.
He took a deep breath and collected himself. He started to his room.
Oh that had felt so good! Damn-diggidy-damn it had been so hot. His whole body had been throbbing as each, solitary touch ran rivers of pleasure through him. All that goodness from such a little thing as his father lying on top of him and holding his hands. All that! And when...when they did touch for real he swore he'd cream right then and there but who cared? All he wanted was to lie back and hold that body on top of him. Wrap all his limbs around it and pull it incredibly tightly close, as close as he could.
That would be nice; and it WOULD happen. It had to happen! Sure, Vegeta had been a jerk just then, but he was always a jerk. They would do more and when they did it would feel soooo good.....
Safely locked in his room he climbed into bed and flipped on the TV. He didn't care what he watched, it didn't matter at all, he just needed background noise...
A sated, happy, freshly orgasmed Trunks dug a nest into the blankets and promptly fell asleep.
Part Seven |