Caught in the Act
"You never did tell anyone how you got it back." The velvety softness of the prince's tail slipped through his fingers like a yard of silk to glide over the demi-Saiyan's cheek and down the prominent muscles of his side. Sighing quietly, he nuzzled backward into those wonderful fingers that raked shivering patterns of pleasure from the roots of his hair to the tips of toes that were currently lost among the dark blue sea of twisting sheets wrapped haphazardly around their horizontal forms.
"Hn. You think just because we had sex you get to know all my secrets?"
Goten's lazy lidded eyes snapped open, the idle fingertips that had been tracing those lovely dips and valleys of the Saiyan's chest stopping their adoring exploration. Swallowing hard, he willed himself not to allow the hot tears of disappointment that congregated in his eyes to fall. So it didn't mean anything...it was just sex to him. What was I expecting? Dende, I feel like a fool...
"I guess I'll just go then..." He couldn't meet those coal black orbs of welcoming darkness as he pushed himself to the side, rolling off the warm body reclining beneath him. He glanced upward through ebony locks of hair as his wrist was caught in the beautiful hand of his paramour, his body pulled gently back to rest rigidly against the other.
"Baka," the Saiyan swore softly, that devilish length of furry mischief flicking against Goten's exposed side. Laughing in spite of himself at the short, teasing strands of fur as they massacred his body, along with his melancholy mood, the younger man tried desperately to wiggle away from the evil appendage.
"Vegeta! Stop it!" The iron grip around his wrist only tightened at his futile efforts, the older Saiyan's amused chuckles reaching his ears through the high pitched tune of his own giggling. When the other man took pity and finally relented, Goten's lungs were pained with the force of his laughter and it was with a contented sigh that he resumed his previous position on the prince's chest.
"You are such a bastard, you know that?" Mmm...those soothing fingers in his hair, brushing and shifting the tangled mane with gentle tugs and scratches. The chiseled area of hard muscle that supported his head began to vibrate with the prince's silent mirth and Goten found himself smiling like an idiot. This was so nice, relaxed...and Vegeta was being positively playful. Strange, unsettling...and ever so comfortable.
"You always this brave after sex?" The demi-Saiyan felt his face flush and could only imagine the varying shades of scarlet he presented as he burrowed deeper into the silken concealment of the prince's torso. "I'll have to remember that next time we need to save the planet..." Shaking his head slightly, Goten began to purr as the softness of Vegeta's tail wound around the loose muscle of his thigh. Dende, if he never moved from this lethargic state of ultimate contentment it would be too damn soon. Yawning, an exhale of hot breath against the Saiyan's satin skin, the younger man allowed his onyx eyes to droop, his body blessedly limp and relaxed, limbs entwined and tucked within and around his prince.
"Fusion." Goten's heavy lidded eyes engaged in the laborious process of pushing open as he turned his head upward to stare questioningly at the Saiyan. One of Vegeta's powerful arms was pillowed under his head, the other still gracing the demi-Saiyan's shoulders while playful fingers massaged into his scalp when he raised his gaze to haunted raven eyes.
"Fusing with Kakarott proved to be...traumatic enough to entice its growth." The prince's glittering black eyes flickered downward once before refocusing on the ceiling as he had been. Goten brought his arm up against the man's chest, settling his chin on his forearm and staring silently at his lover.
"I remember...You really don't like him. Do you?" Dark eyes slid downward to capture his own, and he lost his breath again to those enigmatic black depths that just seemed to swallow his unresisting body whole.
"Neither do you." Goten gnawed the inside of his lip, the fingertips of his other hand dancing absently over the sensuous curves of the Saiyan's neck.
"I don't really know him..." Vegeta snorted disdainfully and the demi-Saiyan's eyes shot up to harden with resolution. Why was he making excuses?? No, he didn't like his father. Why should he? The man had never been there for him-his own son! Everyone he knew, with the valid exception of the man he lay on, idolized Son Goku, earth's hero. In need of help? No problem, just call Son Goku. What's that? Oh, right, you can't-he's dead!
"No...I hate him." He pronounced vehemently, holding those obsidian eyes with steadfast tenacity.
"Hn." Vegeta's encompassing eyes were unchallenging in the face of his epiphanous declaration, extravagant fingers of velveteen softness sliding through the rumpled mass of unkempt ebony. The hand in his hair suddenly tightened, drawing his willing lips forward with one slow, fluid motion. The kiss was as satisfying to him now as it had been the first time they had touched so intimately; Vegeta's seductive tongue commenced a full frontal assault on his senses, wringing a pleading groan from his throat. The prince was only too happy to comply with his silent request, pushing the youngest Son gently to the left, his smaller frame sliding out from under Goten's body to press deliciously against his side. The demi-Saiyan felt that cool sheet between them brushed aside, revealing heat and excitement to both parties present, encouraging the constant spark to ignite in a rush of aroused anticipation.
"He has nothing to do with this..." Goten arched his back hard as that damndable tail was sent to prove the Saiyan's softly murmured words, palms that exuded warmth and the promise of skillful pleasure caressing his legs apart. Closing his eyes with a shuttering moan, the demi-Saiyan abandoned all thoughts of his father. This was the only man in his life that mattered...not Goku, not Trunks...
"Mmmm..." Goten awoke with a quiet groan, licking lips to wet a mouth gone dry in sleep. "What time is it?" Glancing back over one shoulder, he was met with the bemused gaze of his lover.
"Probably after dark." Sighing softly, his mouth parting before the Saiyan's seeking lips, Goten didn't process the whispered response to his thoughtless inquiry until the kiss had ended. Opening his eyes wide, Goten stared in shock at the man who leaned so naturally above him, chin palmed in one hand.
"I slept for that long?" He couldn't believe that he'd been out for hours. Well...blushing hard he reached down to tug the crumpled sheet more firmly against his chest. Maybe he could understand how. The prince had not exactly been...merciful in his pursuit of the youngest Son.
"No..." Warm fingertips caressed the heat in his cheeks to intensify, narrowed eyes daring him to look away. "We were active for that long..." Swallowing hard, Goten's eyes dropped to the rich colours of the passion-stained bed sheets. Good Dende...
"I have to go," he mumbled regretfully, pushing aside the covers to swing his longer legs over the edge of the bed. He could only imagine what his mother was going to say-he'd skipped school, blatantly avoided the woman, and now he would be returning home late for the second time that week. Great...She's gonna kill me, I just know it. Maybe I should just find the dragonballs now and save everyone the trouble...
It was the first real chance he'd had to look at the room that had housed their sinful activities for the last day, and he took the scene in wordlessly as he sat up. Blinking hard he ran a weary hand through his wild, uncombed hair. The place actually looked lived in. Various articles of spandex made in variants of every colour imaginable were strewn over the sparse scattering of furniture that decorated the small room. Among them were his own clothes, wrinkled, inside out, and looking the worse for wear. But then he remembered how they came to be thus and it suddenly seemed the perfect garnish.
A gasp of pain hissed involuntarily through his teeth as he moved to stand. Blushing deeply, Goten ignored the sharp sensation as it gradually dulled to a throbbing ache. He'd have to remember to be exceedingly careful with his movements for the following days, even with mundane actions.
Like sitting down and standing up.
Bending slowly, the demi-Saiyan retrieved the pants he had hastily cast aside earlier, shaking them out with one good jerk of his arms.
"Pity..." Goten looked briefly over his shoulder as he struggled to pull the uncooperative material over his thighs. Losing the battle, the younger man sat down hard on the mattress behind him, gritting his teeth against the flash of pain that flared up his spine.
"What are you talking about?" His questioning words hitched in his throat, sending him through a bout of breath-depriving coughs as a certain russet tail seemed to spontaneously materialize, tantalizing the hyper sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. Dark eyes slipped closed as teasing licks were planted on the nape of his neck, that husky voice blessing his ears again.
"It's a pity that you have to put these back on." A rich caramel contrast to his pale skin, Vegeta's hand caressed suggestively over the muscle of his thigh. Oh, Dende...the temptation was strong, the appeal wickedly enticing. He could stay...his mother was already predictably pissed beyond reasonable comprehension. Why not finally become what she always feared, follow in his brother's delinquent footsteps? The tight, compact body behind him was warm against his back, that powerful limb wrapping around his torso, denying him the motion he sought to complete.
"You..." Goten moaned quietly as those soft lips uncovered the pearly teeth beneath, sharp, erotic nips adorning his neck with small scarlet circles. "...are relentless..." The hand on his thigh migrated upward to stroke the naked muscles of his chest.
"Heh, you started this, boy..."
The chill severity of the evening slashed through his feeble black knit defenses as the door of the gravity room yawned to allow his release. Shivering despite the hours spent in heated winds of torrid passion, Goten walked through the entryway onto the jewel-encrusted lawn that shimmered with intricate droplets of newly placed dew, frosting to glistening white diamonds beneath his feet. Shoving fingers already tinged red with the offense of the autumn wind into his pockets, the demi-Saiyan chanced a longing glance over his shoulder. The windows of the capsule were dark, unrevealing, safely concealing the secret affair that had been forbiddenly explored in the brightest hours of the day. But now, in the comforting arms of cool velvet night, Goten could only stare in rapt wonder at the sanctuary that had enlightened him to the powerful sway of seductive darkness.
"Goten!" A sharp slap of the back door jerked the unsuspecting Son from his reverie, a moment only before the cause of the disruption flung small, pleading arms around his middle, warm, innocent hands slipping between the insulation of his forearms to clasp with steadfast resolution at his lower back.
"Goten..." The youngest Son looked down in stark dismay as that normal exuberance was replaced with a choking sob.
"What is it, Bra-chan?" Fraternal arms of instinctual protection laced around the lithe form at his waist, onyx brow surrendering to the confusion that wrung his insides with its cloying intensity.
"G-Go-k-kun..." Quivering, the warm body shuddering with the strength of her disillusionment and the sudden onslaught of artic autumn wind, Vegeta's youngest cast anguished eyes of electric blue upward. "You don't love me anymore?"
"Nani?!" Struggling to make sense of the little angel's enigmatic desperation, the youngest Son simply stared into those fervent cobalt orbs, trying vainly to decipher the source of her irrational fear. If this is Trunks' doing, I swear by Dende's staff I'll kill him...Kneeling before the miniature vision of distress, Goten gazed into the swollen red and crystal blue of her pained eyes. "Why would you think that, Butterfly?"
Resolving herself to speech, the girl lost small, frost bit fingers in the thick cotton depths of his sweater. "I saw you, Go-kun...you and Papa." His heart ceased the required flow of blood to his brain as his sex-hazened mind processed the impact of her words.
"Bra..." Swallowing his uncertainty, the demi-Saiyan raked a shaking hand through matted sable strands, eyes flashing toward the building behind him in a primal gesture of possession. But then her periwinkle wonderment was still his to behold as he straightened, and he realized in that instant that it wasn't accusation in those innocent eyes, but fear...Aw, Butterfly...Quirking an infectious Son smile, Goten gathered her willowy figure close, securing her in his fevered warmth. "No, Butterfly, this doesn't mean I don't love you..." Hopeful and shimmering with the possibility of sincere reassurance, the sniffling sprite loosening the inhuman grip on his front to wipe at the stray watery remnants of her melancholia.
"You mean it?" Chuckling, the adolescent ran a ruffling hand affectionately through aqua faerie curls.
"Hai...it just means that I'm even more a part of the family than I was before." Something dark and sick twisted in the gloaming depths of his stomach at his own hasty words. What if I'm wrong? What if Vegeta doesn't even acknowledge my presence after tonight? Dende...I don't know if I can stand to be rejected again...
"Yatta!" His doubt was suddenly smothered in a cloud of aromatic blue as soft, trusting limbs wrapped around his neck. Wincing at the familiar contact, Goten's mind again took its time to understand the uncanny pain in his neck. And then the unchecked fire of embarrassment sparked, the blazing conflagration of crimson and ruby assimilated into the wind-burnt scarlet of his cheeks. The prince had seemed to enjoy the taste of his throat...and the delightful sounds of encouragement that each erotic nip had invoked.
"Butterfly..." The raven haired demi-Saiyan stiffened at the foreign summons, hands clenching in the corduroy raiment of his younger companion. Eyes of preternatural obsidian narrowed on the dark silhouette that intruded upon their interlude, the growl of hostility blown soundless by an icy gust. Trunks.
"Oniichan?" Blue tendrils were tossed backward against his cheek as the smaller figure responded with an answering turn of question.
"Gram wants you in the house, neechan. It's too cold for you to be out here in nothing but that." Speculative eyes of wandering blue roamed the terrain of her green jumper, fragile brow drawing downward in opposition to her brother's will. Licking his lips against the chilling dryness of nature's caress, Goten gave the girl a conclusive embrace.
"Go on in, Butterfly." He silenced her open mouthed objections with a tender bop to her button nose. "Maybe she's got more cookies for ya, ne?" Tears forgotten in the instant of assurance, already bright eyes lit with an inner excitement, pink lips parting in an expression of simplistic joy. Oh, to be that young again...
"Hai!" Slender arms squeezed him once more in departure, warm lips pursing against his night-numbed cheek, a gentle kiss of sensation to skin gone cold in wait. "And I promise not to tell anyone, Go-kun," her soft whisper flit against the winding of his ear, a butterfly breath of fluttering lashes against his cheek coaxed a smile, though his temperamental gaze lie transfixed on the statuesque figure in the doorway. "Besides," her leaning form straightened, reedy voice pitched intentionally low. "I've seen Mama too." Pale sapphire complimented awestruck onyx as his fingers slipped from her childish waist. "But I like you better than her friend." Smiling adoringly, the older demi-Saiyan rested a broad hand on her uplifted head, raising himself from his crouching position.
"Arigato, Butterfly," he called after her scampering shadow, a wink thrown obviously over one shoulder as she got to the door, ducking under her brother's arm and disappearing into the illuminating amber that bespoke of warmth and the promise of cookies...Love you, little sister. Sighing heavily, the boy turned his face windward, reveling in the sharp delight of icy shards that tousled his wild mane. Breathing deep, a heavy blanket of dead leaves and autumn air, Goten steeled himself in his destination. He still had to face his mother...and he could only imagine what she would say. For just one more instant, he wanted to linger in the euphoria of his actions, the perfume of sex and Saiyan that coiled around his body, permeated his clothing, and tossed his willing figure back into the ethereal abyss of remembrance...
But alas, there was still another scene before the next act.
"Goten..." Hardened by his memories, his resolve stole to the surface, burning in an unforgiving baptism of fire that shone like redemption in his ebony eyes. "We need to talk." The paler prince seemed to acknowledge his uncharacteristic mood, though his eyes never wavered.
Gritting his teeth, the youngest Son welcomed his impending anger. It was time to take this prince down a peg or three. We grew up together, damn you. I'm not going to take your condescending bullshit tonight, Trunks. I have a few words of my own to say to you.
"I'm listening." Electric blue that had once held his heart spellbound in its purity flashed like lightning as the older demi-Saiyan glanced backward into the kitchen, closing the door with a subtle click. Shadows and silence, the shattered amber sequence from the window glazing the jeweled grass in a patchwork of stars. Arms locked like a shield before his breast, the boy watched with heated narrow eyes as his enemy approached, the wretched scent of floral perfume tainting the air between them. So the rumours are true. Hn, didn't think you had it in you, Trunks. If only you could be more like your father in other ways...
"I know what you're doing, Goten." The piece of his heart still devoted to the amethyst Ouji screamed in pain as the menacing quality held like a rapier in his words sliced through his chest. "And it's not going to work." Condescendence shone baleful in brilliant blue as the older demi-Saiyan glared down at his tense counterpart, feet coming to rest uncomfortably close to the other boy.
"Oh?" He couldn't contain the sarcasm that saturated his response, the dismissive jerk of his shoulder, the impudent flip of his head. "And what is it that I'm doing, Trunks?" Teeth grit in anger, the pastel teen clenched his fists in opulent rage.
"Dammit, Goten! You're not that much like your father!" Lavender licked his cheeks as his counterpart descended and the resulting growl resounded through the leaf littered air as the constant breeze ripped impatient fingers against their clothes. "You know what you're doing and I'm telling you right now that turning my father against me isn't going to work!"
The snarl in his voice wasn't suppressed, nor was the mocking justification of his laughter. Turn Vegeta...? You think I'm trying to get you back?
"You think I'm trying to get you to love me?" He wasn't in the mood for this shit. He'd easily had the most eventful day in his youthful career and he wasn't about to let his ex-crush stand in the way of his momentary happiness. Especially when he had his mother to go home to. Icy eyes regarded him with disdain, that arrogance that suited his dark lover with regal tenacity, despicably ugly on the paler prince's tenuous countenance. But Trunks' silence answered his question and with a bark of sadistic mirth, the younger demi-Saiyan rounded on the other teen.
"You think me that stupid? You gave me your answer, Trunks. You made it perfectly clear that you had no interest in a relationship." Baring his teeth, the Son leaned closer, relishing the flicker of uncertainty that came with his unexpected anger. I'm done being your silent shadow, Trunks. "Remember?" Narrowed eyes of flaming obsidian reflected back the slight unease in his ocean eyes. "Remember the empty classroom? Remember almost kissing me, Trunks-kun?" Pale purple whipped in the ferocity of wind that seemed to mirror his mood, a tempest within tempest, wielding the violence of his righteous anger like an angelic sword. Staring up with unforgiving eyes, the youngest Son spat out the words as though foul on his lips. "Remember pushing me away?" His eerie voice hushed, eyes sparking past pain and hatred at his speechless counterpart. "Remember telling me you never thought of me that way just because someone walked in the room?" Gnashing his teeth, Goten brought one hand up to fist in the navy of Trunks' prissy Izod sweater. "Remember telling me you didn't want to see me anymore?" Hissing in the strength of his leashed fury, the younger teen brought his paling counterpart to eye level, fingers twisting the fabric with a sufficient flick of his wrist.
"And you think," their roles had reversed, and it was the darker demi-Saiyan that now held the other in contempt. "That I want you." Downward for an instant, obsidian shards flashed up through thick raven lashes. "Why would I want that when you can't even admit you're gay?"
Trunks blanched at the accusation, fingers clawing upward in an attempt to unclasp the hands that held him so firm in grasp. "I am not gay, Goten!"
Smirking, Saiyan blood pounded with venomous force through his system, the Son eyed the other with loathing. Sure...deny it, Trunks-kun. That's always what you've done best. When we were children, getting us into trouble and then denying it...so who did they blame? Oh, right...me!
"Sure you're not, Trunks-kun," eyes dark and midnight kissed swallowed the protesting teen as Goten brought the other nearer to him. Something bold and brash sprang forth in his mind, a kernel of vengeful satisfaction, the birth of which lie in satin and sleep in the capsule behind him. "Sure you're not..." he purred, the tip of his tongue flicking out to smooth over his own lips, centimeters from the open, floundering mouth of his breathless captive.
Methinks thou dost protest too much...It was exhilarating to see the boy that had held such a superior attitude since childhood weak and pathetic before him. It was a priceless image, this prince bound unbreathing in his grip, bright eyes heavy lidded with the aching desire compressed and denied within the gilded cage of his pretense. Longing that Goten would unlock, ignite, and give life... so Trunks could feel the same desperate emptiness that had haunted the darker teen for three agonizing years.
"You know...they talk about you, you whore." Moist softness against dry satin, Goten's words seduced the older boy's mouth, a murmuring that strained to be heard over the hitch of surprise expulsed from the lavender prince's lips. Tilting his head just slightly, the Son granted the most teasing of pressure to those begging petals, words reduced to the whispering of sensuous breath. "How many girls have you fucked and imagined were me, Trunks?" A hint of triumph accompanied the moaning whimper of yearning as Trunks' artistic digits dug almost painfully into his hand. What's a little more pain, ne, Trunks? You've already hurt me so much already...
"Go...ten..." The pliant mouth yielded to his hot exhale, his teasing manipulations that left the arrogant prince dazed, leaning downward with wanting.
"Ten...? Twenty...? You should hear what they say, Trunks..." A fleeting lick, a pause, allowing the questing mouth contact, only to wretch his lips away before their warmth could be granted.
"Goten." Fingers around his wrist jerked him forward against the lean body of his former crush. Brushing along the white scar that ran diagonal down his counterpart's sharp chin, a solemn reminder of the consequences involved in tampering with his mother's machines, the younger teen trailed leisurely with his lips.
"Demanding, aren't you. Slut." His degrading tone seemed only to fuel the other boy's aggression. Heh, Saiyan princes and their need to be pushed around...The adolescent intensity behind the older demi-Saiyan's kiss was amazing, electrifying...disappointing. If Trunks had kissed him like this a day ago...he would have melted like snow in new spring sunshine. But now...the probing tongue of his pretty boy comrade, the hands that bruised his forearms with their insolent command only amplified the disgust he held for the boy he had once viewed as his other half.
And he wasn't Vegeta.
"Fuck you, Trunks," he whispered against the panting insistence that hungered for his lips. Pushing the other half-breed backward, the youngest Son wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Meeting lust-lit eyes of blue eagerness, the darker of the duo sneered, spitting to the frozen ground beside him. "No...go fuck someone else. Again. Because I don't need you." Dismissing the obvious expression of betrayal and wanton desire, Goten turned, glancing back only once, a wicked gleam dancing deviant in sensuous sable. "It's good to know you're not gay, Trunks-kun. I wouldn't want others to make the same mistake I did."
Adrenaline pulsed through his system like the liquid gold of a Super Saiyan. Chill and liberating, snatching wind tugged and rolled through his clothing, engaging his tangled tendrils in a frenzied dance of lightening freedom. He had done it. He had finally told Trunks exactly what he felt-shucked off the obsessive tendency that had ensured his silent status and told the older demi-Saiyan to piss off. And Vegeta...he had made love to Vegeta! The man that made him want to erase the demi before Saiyan and worship him like the prince he was. Dende-sama it felt...it feels...
"Wonderful!" Throwing his head back like a lion deranged, the Son roared his soulful ecstasy to the cloudless blanket of sparkling velvet above him. Spiraling, twisting, arms streamlining his body, Goten burst through thick foliage yet untouched by the dying season, ascending, climbing, fingers clasping, reaching for the glittering diamonds that lie strewn on their inky canvas. With a whooping cry the boy plummeted at his crest, closing his tearing eyes to the whistling wind and simply reveling in the feeling of intense enlightenment that blessed his adolescent form. To hell with his mother and her pestering, he was too enamored with life to contemplate the execution that surely awaited him.
And yet all too soon he approached a clearing between the dark jagged outlining of trees, the telltale flicker of insidious incandescence dampening his careless high. Anxiety burned in celebration's place, apprehension coiling around the core of his enchantment as he hovered in uneasy trepidation above the humble little place he hated to call home. Dende...dammit...
Touching down, greeted with the crunching welcome of crystallized dew, the Son shoved unfeeling fingers into the harsh denim of his pockets, striking a brisk pace toward the door. Better to get it over with...the sooner I listen to her banshee banter, the faster I can just go to sleep and forget about it.
A flash of silver danced in the perimeter of his peripheral vision, coaxing his dallying gaze to wander. Pausing, one foot on the pathway to hell, Goten turned from the entrance, squinting into the miasma of shadows and silhouettes in an attempt to discern the shape of the mercurial object. What the...a motorcycle...? Who in the hell...
Raven eyes ravished the machine in muted illumination from the curtained windows, securing the knowledge that his eyes were not deceiving him. Nope, that was his bike alright, the Harley he had purchased just to piss her off. Midnight black and moon-washed silver.
"Oniichan?" Goten's hopeful exclamation was accentuated by the excited slam of the door as it slipped through his back-thrusting fingers. Graceful, golden, an upsweeping shock of brazen sunlight, the older Son's head turned toward the sound, a brief flash of white as he smiled at his sibling before the scowl of neutrality settled in place once more and jaded eyes regained their focal point.
His fuming harlequin of a mother.
"Son Goten, I demand-"
"Hn, that always was your problem. And everyone wonders why 'tousan chose to remain dead for so long." The younger demi-Saiyan's lips twitched as the blue veins streaked in anger down his mother's temples. He was not going to laugh...he just wasn't...
"Gohan!" Merry emeralds embraced his own onyx orbs as their mother's fist abused the table.
"Ut, here it comes, Goten...you know this one, ne?" The darker Son leaned back against the door as his brother cocked a brow, pursed his lips, and threw out a hip in mocking imitation of their mother. He all but lost it as a slim nicotine stained finger wagged in a mimicking gesture of chastisement, voiced pitched deliberately high. "Now, Gohan, there's no reason for you to be such a rebel! Why can't you just behave? You used to be so good...if only you had studied more...sigh. I just don't know what to do with you." At least his snicker was blessedly lost to the cry of outrage that had his sensitive ears ringing. Taking a step forward, the boy blushed under the winking gaze of his older sibling, hand raking self-consciously through his windblown locks. It had been so long since he had seen his brother, too many years since the then teen had simply told his mother to go to hell, packed a bag, and walked out the door. So why now, Oniichan...? Why in hell would you choose to come home now?
Gohan's arms were locked across his muscled front, eyes glazed and obviously unimpressed with Chichi's current diatribe. Clearing his throat, obsidian eyes finding severe interest in the wooden planks of the floor, Goten entered the hemisphere of the irate woman's wrath.
He probably should have interjected, but there was little for him to say that would temper her fury-the feud between mother and son had been held diligent for years now. Everything Gohan did was like dousing her fervent fire with kerosene. Although, Goten did have to admit that his brother looked rather attractive as a permanent Super Saiyan. And it did serve its purpose...his mother had all but forbidden the youngest Son from indulging in that natural transformation. Her hatred was inexcusable.
Glaring upward through ashy lashes, Goten's jaw veritably ached with the strength required not to speak, not to lash out against the howling harpy that had destroyed all traces of his happiness. Gohan...Trunks...school...And now, screaming at his long-absent brother as though he were a child in need of discipline... "Goten." Searing sable relinquished their methodical memorization, flashing to engage reflective jade. "Come outside with me-"
"He's not going anywhere until he explains-" Finally, feral in its base purity, the elder Son allowed his anger to surface, effectively quieting the woman with a snapping motion of his wrist, a click of canines.
"Last I was told, I couldn't smoke inside." Jerking his jacket off the chair beside him, Gohan pivoted where he stood, pausing as he slid the worn leather over one arm to regard his sibling. "I need a smoke. Come outside with me, niichan."
Ebony met onyx in a clash of domination before the Son turned toward the receding back of his brother. You can have my head later, mother.
"So..." Concentrated ki complimented the sharp angles of Gohan's bent face as he drew deeply on the cigarette held loosely between his lips. Hunching his shoulders against a sudden gust, the younger demi-Saiyan kicked idly at the hardened ground, gaze centered questioningly on that of his lighter sibling. Green succumbed to the lingering inhale of sweet nicotine before releasing, eyes opening fully to stare outward into the unyielding depths of darkness beyond the pale light from the house behind. Dende, he loved that scent...leather, nicotine and Saiyan...his brother...
"How was he?" Blinking against the smoky image that rested against his bike, thumb tapping excess ash off his cigarette, Goten creased his brow in bewilderment.
"Nani? How is who?" Raven eyes searched the elder Son's angular profile. "I told you what happened between me and Trunks..."
"Not Trunks." Cool crystal green titled toward him, hand habitually flicking the end of his addiction. "Vegeta."
The world could have ended in that instant and he would have been oblivious. Widening eyes betrayed his secret acquiesce, open mouth invoking a dry chuckle from the other demi-Saiyan. Bringing the filter to his lips, the older man indulged in another puff, unoccupied hand slipping into the satin depths of his jacket.
"But-how-" The sadistic tango in his stomach ceased for a pivotal moment as the faulty reel of his memory rewound: "You're kidding! Bulma-san's having an affair? ...how do you know?" "I can smell it on her..." Dende-sama...I'm such an idiot...but Trunks didn't...Hn. Trunks already smelled like sex...he wouldn't've smelled it on me...shimatta...
"It's not like that, Go-kun," he mumbled, rubbing the side of his nose with a forefinger and toeing the stiff brittle blades of grass beneath his foot.
"What? You didn't fuck him?" Gohan's chilling stare narrowed to fine points of protective green fire. "Did he hurt you, Goten?" Paling beneath the sudden shift in his brother's apathetic attitude, the youngest Son shook his head vehemently.
"What? No! I'm the one-" Black blessedly obscured his vision as scarlet heat caused his eyes to seek the comfort of the ground. "I mean, I...well..." Licking his lips, teeth snagging the corner to chew in uneasy deliberation before blowing the curtain of hair out of his eyes, his obsidian eyes sought intense emerald counterparts. "I...wanted it..."
"Heh..." Cool digits banished the straggly bangs from his forehead, bringing the soothing scent of leather and tobacco before disappearing again inside the cracked leather. "Calm down, niichan."
"Gomen na, Go-kun...you're not mad?" Dende, his brother's opinion meant more to him than the air that ached in his lungs. If the older man were angry with him...
"Nah, it's quite a catch if you can keep it." Grey wisps curled in a lazy typhoon of fleeting mist before succumbing to the superior might of impending winter promise. "Besides, the man has a nice ass." A deep chuckle humoured the crimson confession on his cheeks. "But I guess you already knew that."
"Gohan...yamero..." That impressive profile was again his to behold as the elder Son's gaze fixed on a point beyond the mortal limitations of his own sight. "Gohan...?" The man was too quiet...too inanimate. It was unnerving how long the man could go without blinking, swallowing, all things considered human...kinda like Vegeta...
"Just be careful, Go-chan." His words were so quiet, so hesitant in their release, as though the man was uncertain about his own sentiment. Turning toward his distant sibling, Goten wrapped his arms around his chest to preserve his natural warmth, fingers drawing down the cuff of his turtleneck over numb hands. Damn, it was getting cold. Early winter this year...
"With Vegeta? Gohan, I don't think-"
"Not Vegeta." That magnificent jade, calculating in its brilliance, ensured his attention as the lighter Son sentenced his cigarette to the extinguishing cruelty of his boot. "Trunks."
"Trunks?" The perplexed demi-Saiyan was at a loss; he had never questioned his brother's instincts, and yet it seemed the man spoke without reason. Other than that incident in school, the Briefs boy hadn't really done anything to cause him concern.
"I ever tell you about Vegeta's other son, niichan?" The whole world had ceased its revolution and Goten was standing silent and gawking at the axis. In all his seventeen years his brother had not once volunteered information about the future version that graced a few hidden drawers and dusty mantles in Capsule Corp. He'd even asked...only to learn that wasn't a subject you broached with Gohan. Whatever had passed between the two boys seemed destined to remain that way. And now...
Shifting his stance, the darker Son hugged himself tightly, bowing his head to the icy will of the elements that caressed his skin.
"We weren't as close as you and Trunks...your Trunks were, but we were close." Gohan's thumb nail scratched idly at his lip before lowering, tall figure bracing against the glistening liquid of metal and machine support behind him. "Too close."
"You mean..." Goten had never thought of his brother in any manner of sexual relation-he was kinda like the Namek in the demi-Saiyan's mind. Uninterested, unavailable...when he was younger he'd secretly wondered if Piccolo had taught Gohan how to be asexual.
"Yeah." Long, muscled legs crossed absently as he reclined, golden strands wickedly pale against the fevered green of his eyes. "You know, holding hands, stealing kisses. Kid's stuff." It was fascinating to hear his sibling speak, the taciturn nature he had seemed to adopt shining through the clip words and phrases that were delivered with little garnish. And his words...the superimposed picture of Gohan and an older vision of Trunks walking hand in hand in his mind was, hands down, enough to complete the single most insane day of ever.
"Did you...you know..." Gohan's eyes held Goten's in quiet merriment for a moment as his cloth covered hand slid over his shoulder in a gesture of embarrassment, shrugging his wordless intention.
"Have sex?" The dry prompt brought the ruby to his face and he nodded shyly, snagging a rare smile from his somber niichan. "Kami, Go-chan, you reek of sex and you're too embarrassed to even say the word?" Affectionate fingers ruffled his hair, reminiscent of sunnier days and happier times. "You really are one of a kind, kid..."
"Arigato..." Dende, this felt right...having his brother here again. Brushing away the disturbed locks with the back of his hand, the youngest Son gave his older brother a soft smile. "Gomen nasai, Go-kun, you were saying...?" Darkness seemed to swallow his golden haze, lavish green dimming as he watched, the relaxed figure tensing almost noticeably beneath the kick ass leather exterior.
"No. We didn't have sex. I don't consider rape sex." Holy...fucking...
"What?" His wasn't sure that his lips even moved to speak the word; his body had ceased obedience down to the breath that lie stagnant in his lungs. "Gohan...?" It couldn't be-his big brother was the strongest person in the universe as far as anyone knew, composed, self-sufficient, ingenious, perfect...there was no way...
"You heard me. He raped me. Apparently the word 'no' just wasn't in his vocabulary." No one had ever told him this! What...how...
Sighing heavily the older man glanced at his dumbstruck sibling. "No one else knew, Goten. The only reason I'm telling you now is so you can watch yourself. It may not have been your Trunks, but it was still Trunks."
"Gohan, I..." Time was frozen on the winds of his disbelief, while it was with dazed onyx eyes he watched his brother turn, throwing one denim clad leg over the seat of his Harley. Body jerked upward as his foot slammed the kick-start, palms massaging a steady purr from the engine. Utterly mindless in the face of his brother's stunning proclamation, Goten could do nothing but stare as his eerily composed sibling tugged on the slick leather of his fingerless gloves, buttons clicking home with a crisp snap of sound.
"There's nothing to say, niichan." A smart zip of metal ripped through the windblown quiet as soft black covered the hard build of Gohan's chest. "Just be careful, ne?" A finger flip and white illumination shone like sunlight through the clearing. He just couldn't think, couldn't process...couldn't do more than stare at his older brother with a sickening mixture of respect and sympathy. Gohan had been...by Trunks...Dende-sama...
"But...oniichan..." The amber sunlight of his windswept locks was a stunning contrast to the clarity in his emerald eyes. He was right, there was nothing to say, no way to respond. He knew. Gohan always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking...it was as if his older sibling could see straight through him.
"Saaa, Go-chan. It's long done. Just don't make my mistake." Slender fingers of palest alabaster against renegade obsidian curled around polished silver, the engine roaring in response to his ostentatious ministrations. The maniacal grin that adorned his casually cool exterior was unexpected, and the youngest Son was coaxed to turn his breeze blown head back toward his house, following that mystic green. True to interfering form, the dark outline of his mother was palpable against the lazy lit doorway, hands fisted on her hips as she sought to initiate Gohan's departure with the mere power of her intimidating presence. Unfortunate for her, the elder Son was hardly impressed, skillfully manipulating another guttural growl from the tiger of a machine beneath him. "And if the ice queen gets to be too much for you, you know there's always a place for you at my apartment, ne, niichan?" As intended, the offhand remark served its devious purpose, distracting the Son from his lingering shock.
"Hai, Go-kun." A shadow of a smile made its debut across the shady stage of his face, hands sliding down to clasp at his elbows, fingers still tucked and toasty in the thick cuffs of his ebony sleeves. Inquisitive onyx rose through long, sooty lashes to engage their jade counterparts. "Mom still not know where you live, niichan?" A negative jerk of sunlit silk, the man pausing only remotely to snap up the kickstand with his booted heel.
"Nope. She still thinks that I've amounted to nothing." Clever intelligence flashed aqua in those semi-precious gems of glittering peridot.
"I still don't understand why you don't just tell her..." The sudden chill was biting to his fingertips as they brushed aside a stray lock of Saiyan inheritance.
"And show her that I actually learned something from all those years of book-bound torture? Nah..." Legs straddled and balancing, the elder demi-Saiyan thrust both hands into his pockets, eyes resting in dire distaste on the silhouette behind.
"But you're a damn nuclear physicist, niichan!" A dark chuckle of amusement lit on the outcry of his frustration. "I hate it when she talks about you as though you're nothing more than a disobedient child!" Powerful shoulders shrugged their indifference, verdant orbs slipping sideways with an affectionate tilt of gold.
"Arigato, chibi." Gohan's hands once again reclaimed their position on the rubber grips, another round of gravely music invoked for the utter enjoyment of his mother. "Just remember what I said, ne?" His sincerity sparked the reminder of their previous discussion, draining the younger man of all colour, leaving him pallid and stricken in the deepening darkness.
"Hai, oniichan. I'll remember." A characteristic nod of sharp comprehension as the Son prepared departure.
"Good...and don't let her get you down, Goten. Days like this are few and far. Enjoy it, ne?" Summoning a smile for his brother, the younger demi-Saiyan nodded, eyes flickering in sudden apprehension to his statuesque parent.
"I will." Unable to abide the nervous tendency to fidget, Goten shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets, head bending to the determination of the wind. Warm, like the fire in his eyes, Gohan's palm massaged his shoulder.
"You take care, little brother." A smile followed suit, sparking a mirroring response. "And say hello to Vegeta for me, ne? Tell him if he doesn't treat you right that I'll kick his ass." Biting his lip against the blazing blush that ignited classic Son embarrassment, the boy nodded, taking a step backward as the tires ripped a trail of dirt and gravel through their driveway, airborne grit causing his blinking eyes to water. Sighing heavily, the youngest Son stared outward into the encompassing darkness until the white of his brother's headlight had faded into ethereal black. Dende-sama...he hardly knew what to make of the day's events. And with what Gohan had just told him...Glaring with menacing conviction toward the impatient figure of his mother, Goten stole an invigorating breath of icy autumn air. He'd be damned if he was going to sit through another one of her tantrums...
"Let's do this..." Wind tickled the tiny tendrils at his nape as his head turned again, ears straining for the distant sound of rumbling comfort. "I may be joining you sooner than you think, niichan."