What I Want

It was dark, the stars providing the only light. They were dim and distant. But they were enough for the boy in the field. He stood with his back to the woods, watching the sky. From his location he could watch the mountain in front of him. He would see anyone who approached him from its slopes. And so it was that he jumped when he heard the voice behind him.


He whirled to face the welcome sound of the soft tenor. That voice saying his name was what he longed to hear. Like a warm summer breeze it caressed his heart, offering him hope. But he wondered if the owner of that voice would like to hear what he had to say. That was the question that ate at him as he turned.

“Gohan.” Trunks softly returned.

“Ah, you wanted to see me?” Gohan asked.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Couldn’t it have waited?” Gohan asked. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Trunks visibly flinched, his face hardening. “I’m eighteen, Gohan. I don’t have a bedtime anymore.” He snapped. “You on the other hand…does your mother know you’re out this late?” His words sounded harsh, even to his own ears, and he regretted them immediately.

“What do you want Trunks?” Gohan’s voice had hardened. His fists were clenched. “I don’t have time for childish behavior. Was there something you needed or not?”

It hadn’t even been two minutes and already Trunks had screwed up. It wasn’t what he had wanted to say. He could feel hope slipping from his grasp with each word that Gohan spoke. Each second that passed seemed to drag his dreams farther away. He couldn’t open his mouth. It seemed that he was completely incapable of speech. Trunks was terrified of what would come out if he were to open it once more. So he stood there, silent, as Gohan waited for an answer. Even as Gohan turned to go Trunks was soundless. He only managed to raise his arm toward Gohan in an unvoiced plea. But Gohan didn’t turn around. He didn’t see it. Trunks watched Gohan power up and take flight. Almost as soon as Gohan’s feet left the ground, Trunks became boneless. He pitched forward, barely managing to catch himself with his hands. The impact seemed to free his voice for he spoke one word. “You.”

Gohan turned and looked back when he reached the top of the tree line. So he saw Trunks on his hands and knees. Then he heard a whisper, dancing on the wind. It was a teasing word encased in a beautiful voice. Said with such longing despair, it answered his question, speaking to a deep desire. And if it was true, then what Trunks wanted was him.

Gohan wanted to run. Desperately, he wanted to run. He didn’t want to know that he had only fooled himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he had heard what he wanted to hear and not what was truly meant. But could he leave? The stars decided him. Their light glinted off Trunks’ face, reflected by what could only be tears. Gohan had never turned away from a friend in need, no matter the price to himself. He couldn’t do so now. Especially if he were to find out that one word held truth.

Trunks felt a soft breeze as Gohan landed beside him, and he hurried to scrub away his tears with a sleeve. Gaining his feet, he once more heard that voice whisper his name.


Light, shining eyes met dark, and his voice failed him once again. He could only watch dumbly as Gohan’s lips moved, concern turning to sadness. But he could move, and he did, right into Gohan. Gohan’s arms closed reflexively around the boy, but once Trunks was secure within them Gohan was at a loss. He could feel Trunks’ tears seeping through his shirt, but he didn’t want to embarrass Trunks by mentioning them. Instead, Gohan settled for awkwardly patting the boy’s back. When the patting stopped, Trunks seemed to realize what he was doing for he stiffened and pulled away. Turning his back to Gohan, he once more wiped at his face with his sleeve.

“Trunks, what did you want tonight?” Gohan tenderly asked.

Keeping his back to Gohan, Trunks answered. “I wanted to show you that I’m not a child,” he said, softly. “I’m not ten anymore. I thought that if I could get you to see me as an adult, then you would take me seriously. I wanted…but it doesn’t matter. If anything, I’ve only proven that I’m just still the boy who used to play with your little brother.”

“What did you say when I left, Trunks?”

“Does it matter?” Trunks replied.

“I think it does.”

Trunks whirled to face Gohan once more. Gohan had never seen him look more like his father than at that moment. At first Gohan thought Trunks was avoiding the question. “I want you to see me now, not like how I used to be. I want you to notice me. I want you! You!” Trunks was practically screaming by the end. He was breathing heavily when he finished his short tirade; his fists were clenched. And he never took his eyes off Gohan.

“I see you Trunks,” was all Gohan said.

Trunks began to walk towards Gohan. “Do you really?” He stopped when they were toe to toe. Gohan didn’t move as Trunks reached a hand up to his neck. He didn’t resist as Trunks pulled his head down, either. However, he did close his eyes right before soft lips met his own. And he trembled.

Once more his arms enfolded Trunks of their own accord, pressing their bodies close. He had wanted this for so long. “I do see you, Trunks,” Gohan said when their lips parted. “I’ve watched you grow up, and I very much like who you have become.”

“But?” Trunks whispered.

“But,” Gohan said, “you’re still so young. You should-“

Trunks cut him off. “No! You don’t understand. Please! Please,” he said, slightly calmer. Trunks then pressed a desperate kiss to Gohan’s lips, pushing his tongue into Gohan’s mouth when Gohan opened it to protest. The protest turned into a moan just as Trunks had hoped it would. “Please, Gohan,” Trunks murmured between light kisses pressed to Gohan’s face. “Please. You want me.”

Gohan struggled to bring his body back under his control. “Trunks, stop this. You don’t know what you’re asking for. You’re too young.”

But Trunks was having none of Gohan’s halfhearted protests. “I’ll always be six years younger than you, Gohan. If not now, when?” Trunks’ mouth was no longer clouding his senses; instead it was his hands, now roaming Gohan’s stomach and sides. Still, Gohan persevered, pushing at Trunks’ body with his hands.

Gohan was relieved when Trunks began to draw away from him, knowing he couldn’t hold out against the onslaught much longer, but he realized too late why Trunks moved. Trunks’ hands were no longer moving over his stomach; instead the boy had sunk to his knees, taking Gohan’s pants with him. Gohan hadn’t even realized what Trunks was doing. “Trunks!”

“Is this what you’re talking about?” Trunks asked, right before leaning in to lick Gohan’s sex. He sucked the head into is mouth only to release to speak again. “Is this what I don’t know about, Gohan?” Trunks’ mouth returned to Gohan’s now-hardening member.

Gohan was having too much trouble breathing to answer right away. He could only tighten his hands on Trunks’ shoulders at first. Unfortunately, Trunks seemed to take the gesture as encouragement. Gohan could feel the gentle tugging increase, and it filled his body with warmth. By the time he found his voice once more he was too far gone to stop what was happening to him.

Trunks heard the muted whimpers Gohan was making. They gave him confidence as he continued. His hands were clutching Gohan’s hips, and his mouth was stretched around Gohan’s sex. It was soon filled as Gohan’s hips jerked with his orgasm. To Trunks, his time had never been better spent, even if Gohan left.

When Gohan finally opened his eyes he saw Trunks watching him. There was nothing demanding in that gaze, just simple acceptance. It was what convinced him more than anything else. Trunks was expecting nothing. Or rather, he was expecting Gohan to leave. When Gohan saw that, he knew. Trunks was no longer a child. The boy had grown into this young man kneeling before him, this courageous young man. Gohan knew it had taken courage to do what Trunks had, to risk his pride for a chance at love. For Gohan there was only one thing left to do.

He sank to his knees beside Trunks, and tenderly kissed his lips. “If I apologize, will you forgive me?” Gohan asked.

Trunks smiled. “I’d forgive you without the apology,” he replied.

“What if I really wanted to apologize?”

“I don’t think I’d stop you.”

“Good,” Gohan said. Without further warning he proceeded to untie Trunks’ pants.

“I thought you were apologizing.”

“I am,” Gohan responded, continuing his actions. “Lay down,” Gohan said after he pushed the pants down around Trunks’ thighs. Once Trunks obeyed, Gohan completely removed the pants. Pushing his legs apart, Gohan moved between them. “I’m sorry,” Gohan whispered, his breath stirring the curls around Trunks’ sex, right before liquid heat surrounded it. The sensation was breathtaking. Fingers digging into the dirt, Trunks bucked his hips, driving his member to the back of Gohan’s mouth. He whimpered when Gohan pulled back, only to exhale sharply as he was completely engulfed once more.

Trunks didn’t last long. It was all he could do to keep from screaming as he exploded into Gohan’s mouth. His hips continued their jerky movements, muscles still spasming, even as Gohan swallowed the last of his seed. Trunks dimly registered Gohan moving to lie beside him. He did what then came naturally. He rolled onto his side and flung an arm around Gohan. Nuzzling into Gohan’s chest, Trunks pulled himself closer to the welcome heat.

Smiling, Gohan wrapped an arm around Trunks in return. Trunks now had him, which was exactly what he wanted. Gohan supposed it worked out well, because Gohan now had Trunks, and that was exactly what HE wanted. “I love you,” he whispered to the sleepy boy, attempting to draw the still form even closer. He was surprised at Trunks’ response.

“Good,” he said, sleepily. “You can tell my father then.” His only concern voiced, Trunks promptly fell asleep. Gohan, however, was left wide-eyed as the stars faded with the coming dawn.

A/N: This is a short little piece I quickly wrote so I could post something. I hope you all like it. Basically, Trunks ‘convinces’ Gohan of his love. Not really much of a plot.

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