You Have the Money, I Have the Time

BY : Macha
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 1836
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.I am making no profit from this.

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Disclaimer: I don’t own DB/Z/GT or any of the characters found in this fic.  They are the property of TOEI ANIMATION in Japan and FUNimation in the U.S.A.  I am making no profit from this.

A/N:  I don’t know who originally dubbed Maria Trunks as Tora, but I like it, and I am going to use it in this story (I hope that the genius doesn’t mind.)  I have found that it creates a whole lot less confusion when reading this type of story.

I would like to add that although the original character is essential for this plot, he is not the whole reason for this story.  I was trying to show what kind of interesting games these two could get up to.  

Type of story: A/U, PWP, Lemon, yaoi, not exactly incest, not twincest…I think someone has coined it as selfcest? 


Pairing: (Trunks x OC)/ Miria Trunks (a.k.a.: Tora)

 “X” indicates spoken dialog

‘X’ indicates thoughts

Title of Story- (And only chapter)


‘You Have the Money, I Have the Time’


 Trunks Briefs sat in the limo on his way to a snooker tournament.  He took out the invitation to the event in order to read it again.  Normally he wouldn’t have bothered with this kind of social gathering, but the initials at the bottom gave the event a whole new outlook: T.V.B.

The initials at the bottom of the invitation weren’t part of the original wording.  They had obviously been added by hand at some later point, the gold ink differing them from the rest of the wording that was in black, spidery, typed script.

The anticipation had been building for a week now.  Trunks never knew exactly what he was going to find when he followed the clues or hints given to him, although it was always worth going.  He licked his lips in eagerness and put the invitation back into the pocket of his suit jacket.

The limo stopped in front of a convention center building in West City.  The building had been leased for the sole purpose of this tournament.  Snooker wasn’t a popular game in West City, but the participants themselves had voted for the tournament to take place here.  This meant that not only were the players going to be there, but anyone that was interested in attending would have to stay somewhere in West City.  ‘Not everyone has the luxury of instant transmission,’ Trunks thought wistfully. 

Having this kind of an event was fine with Trunks; it meant more commerce.  The city benefited by having to house all of the players and fans in hotels, and catering to entertainments other than the tournament.  As for Capsule Corporation, he had been called personally by the acting president of the Snooker Association to see if there was any way to capsulize all the snooker tables, pool cues and other equipment needed to set up such and elaborate tournament.

Trunks waited for the limo driver to come and open his door.  As he stepped out of the limo he fished around in his white suit’s jacket pocket.  He pulled out a tiny mechanical device, pressed a tiny button located on the side of the device and placed it in his ear.  The tiny machine was a prototype.  He wasn’t certain it would ever replace cell phones, although it did have that capability, but this one was more of a walkie-talkie.  Having to have one’s tongue pierced wasn’t going to be a popular idea.  The earpiece worked as a receiver, but it required a tongue piece as a transmitter.  He supposed that a lip piercing would work just as well, but the tongue piercing had additional benefits.

“Thank you,” he said to the driver as he stepped away from the door.  “I’ll page you when I am ready to leave, or to tell you that I won’t need a ride.”  The driver acknowledged his statement with a shallow bow, closed the door behind Trunks and went back up to the drivers seat.

Trunks looked at the convention center as the limo pulled away.  It had a similar build to his house, only larger: much larger.  Doomed white walls with ‘West City Convention Center’ in blue neon blocks attached to the building’s side.  He was thankful there were very few people on the steps.  He had been to similar events that had turned out to be a media circus when he had shown up.  Being the President of Capsule Corporation wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.  He hardly had a private life anymore.  Which made the initials at the bottom of the invitation all that more exciting.  There was always a chance somebody would catch them.  Then the game would be over.

“I see you made it,” a voice said over the earpiece.  Trunks shivered.  It had been almost six months since he had last heard that voice. 

“How could I resist,” he replied quietly.  He didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to himself, looking like he was talking to thin air.  It wouldn’t do the company’s reputation any good to have the President carted off to the loony hospital.

Trunks was a little disappointed there was no response from the other end.  He resisted the urge to check for the other’s ki.  It would be a fruitless use of energy on his part.  If he didn’t keep his ki hidden anyone who could read ki signatures would know that something wasn’t right.  ‘And if they read his signature as well as mine, they would assume the worst.  That he had come to warn us of some impending danger.’ 

Trunks straightened his suit jacket and headed towards the entrance of the building.  Inside the door there were two tables set up, one on either side of the doorway.  The one to the right was selling tickets to those who wanted to view the tournament, but hadn’t received invitations. 

The table on the left was set up to check the invitations of those who had been deemed worthy enough to have the invitations sent to them.  When he handed the man his invitation, the man did a double take.  “It’s good of you to visit Mr. Briefs.  I hope you find the tournament entertaining.”  He handed the invitation back to Trunks.

“Oh, I am certain I will,” Trunks said archly.  If the man at the door noticed the odd inflection in his voice, he didn’t let on that he had noticed.

A little further into the entry way there were a couple of tables set up with host and hostess passing out schedules for the week of matches and what rooms they would be held in.  Apparently the first set of matches had been drawn before the tournament had begun.  Players that didn’t show up were considered a scratch. 

He read the schedule as he walked through the lobby.  He dodged groups of people gathered around using his peripheral vision.  ‘It’s a little more crowded in here than I thought it would be,’ he thought to himself.  He really had no idea as to what to expect from his surroundings, but apparently it wasn’t going to be anything like a baseball game or a martial arts tournament.  The people were all dressed in business like attire.  All the men wore suits.  Most of the women were also dressed in business suits, but there were a few that had opted to wear dresses.  Trunks felt a little out of place wearing a white business suit, when so many other people were wearing black or dark colors, but he shrugged it off.

There were also regularly scheduled meals, which had the main courses of the meal listed in the schedule.  Breakfast was already over for today.  Lunch wasn’t for another hour.  ‘The chicken dish looks interesting.’  Trunks wondered how many of these people would look at him oddly when he ordered five of meals for himself.

His musing was interrupted by the voice in his ear again.  “Second floor, convention room 22B.” 

Trunks resisted the urge to ask questions.  He never received any answers to questions that would eventually be answered on their own.  He looked around the lobby and saw what he was looking for.  He walked over to the elevator, and pressed the ‘up’ button.  He waited patiently for the elevator to arrive.  He had noticed there were games scheduled for the first four floors of the convention center.

He stepped into the elevator car when the door opened and pressed the button that indicated floor two.  “How have you been?” he asked once the golden doors of the elevator closed, and no one had boarded with him.  He growled in frustration when he didn’t receive a reply.  “It’s been six months since I have seen or heard from you!”

He faintly heard a mocking laugh through the earpiece. “Patience,” was the only reply.

He was about to retort when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.  There was a couple standing outside waiting for Trunks to exit before entering the elevator themselves.  “That’s Trunks Briefs,” he heard the woman whisper to the man she was with.  He didn’t stay around the elevator long enough to hear what the man’s reply was.  He really detested being ogled over by strangers.

There was a set of double doors across from him and to his right.  Characters above the door indicated that it was room ‘20A’.  He followed the hallway to his right and saw another set of double doors marked as ‘20B’.  He quickened his pace a little knowing that he was heading in the correct direction.

The cobalt blue carpet was plush under his feet, and his dress shoes made very little noise.  He passed a few groups of people gathered in the hallway talking about various things.  A few of these people glanced in his direction, but if anyone recognized him, they didn’t point it out to their colleges.  He also noticed singlewide doorways on the opposite side of the hallway, away from the convention rooms.  The convention rooms filled the center of the circular building, while the other doorways led towards the outer walls of the structure.  These rooms had the same numbers as the convention rooms across from them, with the exception of having a ‘C’ instead of an ‘A’ or ‘B’.

A few moments later he was standing in front of the door marked as ‘22B’.  A lit up sign above the room marker indicated a match was currently in progress.  Trunks quietly opened up one half of the doublewide doors and stepped inside the large room.

He noticed immediately that there were actually two matches going on in the same room.  There was a divider between the two tables.  If he had gone into the door marked as ‘22A’ he would have been on the left side of the room and observing the matching going on over there.

Instead, he found that he was watching co-ed game on this side of the room.  There was a theater sized wide screen display showing close ups of the play at the billiard looking table, with indications as to whose turn it was and the current score.  He watched the female player take aim with her pool cue.  The cue ball was smaller than what he was use to seeing when he played an occasional game pool with his childhood friend Goten.  Another difference he noticed immediately was that there weren’t any striped balls on the table.

The female player made her shot and sunk a blue ball in one of the pockets.  Trunks took a moment to find a seat while the audience was clapping.  Once he adjusted his chair he noticed something else rather odd.  A man dressed in a black suit had taken the blue ball out of the pocket.  As Trunks watched the same man wiped the ball off with a cloth and set it back on the table.  ‘Definitely not the same as a game of pool,’ he thought to himself.  A glance at the screen showed the female player’s, her name was indicated as Rose, score had jumped by five points.

As Trunks continued to watch the match a waiter came around asking people if they cared for drinks.  Trunks thought nothing more of the waiter other than, ‘Kind of cute,’ until the brunet man stood at his table and said, “You were right, you do look younger with your hair cut.” 

This caught Trunks off guard.  He had no clue as to whom this man…,” His name is Gregory.  He goes by Greg,” the voice in his earpiece informed him.

‘Ah, so it was going to be that kind of game.’  He was sort of disappointed at the thought.  Trunks had been looking forward to seeing the other demi for a week now. 

“I told you I would. Do you like it?” He asked Greg, assuming the persona the waiter already thought that he was. 

The waiter reached out as to touch it, and then thought better of it. “It looks alright,” he replied instead. 

The waiter smelled like sandalwood.  Not overpowering, but there to his sayian senses.  ‘Tora really knows what I like.’  Between the body and the smell, Trunks was already attracted.  His other self really knew how to pick somebody out of a crowd.

“You’re suppose to be acting like a business man.  Not some undersexed juvenile,” he heard through the earpiece.  Trunks growled low enough that the waiter, Greg, couldn’t hear him, but enough for the vibrations to make their impression on the demi on the other end of the receiver.

Greg cleared his throat. “Um, if your interested, I have a break in ten minutes.  We could…,” he left the statement hanging.  A trace of pink graced his cheeks.

Trunks almost snickered.  The man was practically panting.  ‘What has Tora done to him?’ He wondered.  “Anything you have in mind is alright with me,” he said outloud to the young man.

Greg smiled. “I know just the thing,” he said roguishly.  He turned to go to the next table, but turned back to Trunks for a moment. “Do you want anything to drink while I am working?”

“Order a Blow Job,” he heard in the earpiece.

Trunks couldn’t help but blush.  He was thankful for the dim lighting in the seating section.  ‘Tora is such a hentai.’  “I’ll have a rum and coke,” he said out loud to Greg, “Please.”

Greg nodded his head and jotted down the order on the napkin. “I’ll be back with that in a moment.”  Trunks admired the view as the well-built brunette walked towards the next table.

“You always are such a chicken shit,” Tora teased him over the earpiece.  “He would have just blushed and nodded his head.  I would have done it.”

Trunks had to bite his tongue to keep from retorting: literally.  Some of the people sitting closest to him still looked over in his direction at the bizarre sound he made before he had restrained himself.  He faked a cough into his hand for the spectators.  They all turned away at the commonplace action.  ‘I don’t know how, but I’ll make him pay for that,’ he thought to himself.  With the situation as it was though, Tora always had the upper hand in these games.  ‘I’m just the entertainment I suppose,’ he thought to himself.  Of course it wasn’t so bad to be the entertainer, not when the entertained knew exactly how to set up the show.  However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t mind the chance to see Tora blushing scarlet in embarrassment for a change.

Trunks returned his attention back to the game at hand.  He really didn’t understand much of what was going on.  There seemed to be some sort of strategy involving the different colored balls and a point system. There were a lot more red balls on the table than any other color.  He noticed a sort of trend between when the current player would sink a red ball, or when the player would sink a different colored ball.  Some of the shots were called while others weren’t.  The game was somewhat confusing, ‘I should have read a rule book before I came.’

Greg came by with his drink, but didn’t stay for much more than a ‘thanks’ from Trunks.  He winked as he set the drink down, and then he was on his way to deliver the rest of the beverages that were on his tray.

“How’s your drink?”  Tora asked him, “Not as good as a Blow Job, I’m certain.”

‘Oh, that little shit!’ Trunks thought, trying his best not to spit out the sip he had taken.  Once again drawing unwanted attention to himself.  ‘Sometimes that man has the worst timing.’  He was certain that Tora had done it on purpose.  He could hear him laughing at his expense.

There was another change of the players at the snooker table.  It seemed as though Rose had called a shot and missed.  The next player took aim at a red ball and sunk it.  He indicated that the black ball was his ‘ball on’.  ‘Whatever that means,’ Trunks thought. The cue ball glanced off of it, but it didn’t go into a pocket.  Trunks was even more confused by the game when the man continued to play regardless of the fact that the black ball hadn’t gone in.

He wasn’t so absorbed in the game that he didn’t notice Greg dropping off his tray at the temporary bar, and head back in his direction.  “Oh, and he’s a screamer,” Tora whispered through the communication device.

‘Great, any other information I should know about?’  Trunks thought to himself.

“Come on,” Greg said as he neared the table, “My lunch break is only a half hour.”  He nodded his head towards the door.

Trunks finished off his drink and stood to follow the shorter man out the door and into the corridor.  Greg led the way down the hallway, back towards the elevator.  Once again the up button was pressed. 

Trunks fidgeted a little while they waited for the elevator to get to their floor.  Apparently Greg had no intentions of doing anything in the hall.  He seemed to understand what kind of scandal that could create when dealing with a man who had a reputation like Trunks’.

The elevator doors opened and the woman and the man Trunks had seen earlier got out.  This time the man did stare at him, he looked as though he was going to say something to the young corporation president, but Greg intervened, “The match you are looking for is this way Mr. Briefs,” he gestured into the open elevator. 

It was a lame pretense.  The only place the two of them could possibly be going was into the elevator.  It worked none-the-less.  The man never uttered a word of what he was about to say, thinking that Trunks had somewhere he wanted to be.  ‘Well I guess in a way I do.’

“He thinks on his feet, doesn’t he?” Tora approved.

Trunks stepped into the elevator and Greg followed.  The doors shut behind them. Once again no one boarded the elevator at the same time.  Trunks glanced over at Greg to see that the young man was staring at him with something akin to hunger showing in his facial features, “I wasn’t certain that you’d show up.  You never RSVP’d your invitation.”

Trunks wasn’t certain what to say to that.  The young man’s statement wasn’t whiny, just a statement.  “Don’t worry, he’s not going to get attached.  Spoiled, maybe, but not attached,” Tora reassured him.

Trunks wondered what Tora had said to this man to insure that that never happened.  “I happened to have some time.  It looked to be an interesting distraction,” he gave Greg a significant look, trying to convey that Greg was the distraction, and not the tournament itself.  He was having a hard time trying to fit into his assumed roll.  ‘Tora isn’t doing much of a coaching job this time around.’

Greg just smiled at that. “I’m glad you had some free time to be distracted then.”  His body language was interesting.  He kept leaning forward, like he was going to touch or kiss Trunks at any moment, but was restraining himself: barely.

‘I guess it could be a bad thing for him to just jump my bones in the elevator,’ the demi thought to himself, ‘Suppose someone came in on the next floor.’  The elevator stopped at the top floor.  Floor seven.

Both men exited the elevator when the doors opened.  Greg still hadn’t touch Trunks in anyway.  It took a moment for Trunks to figure out that now that they were up here, Greg was kind of at a loss as to what to do.

He was saved from any further dallying by that familiar voice in his ear, “Go down the hall to your left.  You want room 75C,” Tora informed him.

I want room 75C,’ he thought to himself.  In way, he supposed that it was him that wanted to go to 75C.  ‘Don’t think about it. Too confusing.’  Even if there had been several of these rendezvous/games, Trunks still had a difficult time rationalizing them.  There were too many ‘what ifs’.  He had learned a while ago that thinking about it just made it really complicated.  They hardly saw enough of each other, and Trunks wanted what time they did have to be fun, not complicated.

Taking a look around the hallway, and checking for ki signatures, to be on the safe side, he slid his hands into Greg’s.  “Let’s go this way,” he said to the brunet. 

The slightly shorter man started a bit when Trunks reached for his hand. “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked the lavender haired demi.

Trunks nodded and squeezed his hand, “I’m sure.  No one is up here, except us.”

Greg smiled; it was almost a leer this time, but not quite.  Trunks wondered what ideas the other man had running through his mind.  ‘I bet I find out in a moment.’

They didn’t say much as they walked towards their destination.  Trunks could feel Greg’s hand as it clenched and unclenched in his own, and the pulse was a bit quick for such a fit indiviual.  ‘A little nervous, hmmm?’

When they finally came to the room that Tora had indicated, Trunks reached to open it.  The door slid open smoothly.  “That should have been locked,” Greg said in disapproval.

Trunks had no idea what he would find when he opened the door.  He stepped into the room and switched on the light.  He looked around for a moment.  “Looks like this is being used for extra storage space for the tournament,” he said to his companion.  There was one of the snooker tables and some cue sticks in the room, and that was it.  He really didn’t even bother to think as to why these weren’t in capsules.  He knew why, he just hoped that Greg was too distracted to ask that question.

He heard the door close softly behind him and suddenly felt strong hands on his shoulders.  When he turned into the hold, he was slightly surprised when he was shoved up against the wall by the door.  “Don’t worry, he’s human,” he heard Tora’s reassurance. 

Greg locked their lips together in a rough kiss.  ‘Pretty damn strong for being human,’ Trunks let his tongue glide along Greg’s lips.  Things were about to get interesting.

“He’s expecting to be uke, just so you know,” Tora told him. 

‘Very aggressive for being uke,’ Trunks thought.  He liked that.  He moaned his approval around the kiss. 

Greg started busying his hands by try to get both him and Trunks out of their clothing.  He was gentle enough with Trunks suit jacket, expertly undoing the few buttons that held it closed. He slid it off Trunks’ shoulders and onto the floor.  Next to go was Trunks button up shirt.  While Greg worked at the buttons going down the front of it, Trunks worked at the ones keeping the cuffs closed.  The shirt came off and followed the jacket somewhere to the floor, also.  Trunks really didn’t care and didn’t pay to much attention.  His focus was on the tantalizing kiss and the fingernails that were scratching their way down his exposed chest.

“Start undressing him,” Tora said huskily. 

That’s when Trunks knew for certain that Tora had rigged the room.  Although he hadn’t been able to spot them, he was sure there were hidden cameras and microphones around this room.  Trunks pulled back from the kiss and undid the buttons of Greg’s vest and slid it off of his shoulders.  While he was doing this he clicked the tongue transmitter off, ‘It’s not all that much fun if you can only hear bodily fluids exchanging over everything else.’

He brought both of his hands up to the brunet’s jaw and held the other man’s head still for a moment for another passionate kiss.  ‘Hope Tora likes the show.’  This was another reason for these little escapades: both of the demi princes knew each other so well, sometimes it was more interesting to get someone else involved.

“Less clothing please,” Trunks heard.  The request didn’t come from the man being kissed.

Trunks moaned his compliance to the request and started to undo buttons on Greg’s shirt.  Once those were undone he slipped the shirt off Greg’s shoulders, but not all the way off to the floor.  Trunks pulled back out of the kiss and looked at the other man’s half naked form.  He ran his thumbs over the dark nipples on the brunet’s chest, and then lowered his mouth to one, licked it and finally suck it. 

Greg hissed in a lungful of air as Trunks’ actions sent a shock of pleasure through his body.  He gathered his mind long enough to start undoing the belt, button and zipper of Trunks’ pants.  Then he reached into Trunks’ boxers and slid his hand caressingly along the demi’s erection.  He felt Trunks shudder.  “Want something more?”  he asked.  He gently squeezed and stroked the needy appendage.

Trunks lifted his head up and looked to see the leer back on Greg’s face.  “You have something in mind?”

Greg didn’t reply verbally.  Instead, he pushed Trunks back up against the wall and knelt in front of him.  He slid the demi’s pants and boxers to the floor.  Looking up and into the lavender haired man’s eyes, he once again took the throbbing member into his hands.  This time, though, he used his mouth to stroke Trunks’ erection. 

Trunks leaned his head against the wall and moaned, his eyelids closing halfway in appreciation.  “You like that?” he asked out loud. 

He received a hummed answer from the man at his feet.  Wonderful.

“Yes,” was the reply over the earpiece, “Beautiful.”  That was the actual response Trunks was waiting for, but the double play on the questions was another thing that made this exciting.  He was going to have to make Greg believe that he was dirty talking to him, when in actuality he was dirty talking to Tora.

Greg closed his eyes and felt the heat that was entering his mouth.  His own erection was being ignored at the moment.  He took one of his hands away from its current activity to undo his own fly, and reached in to grab himself.  He hummed around Trunks’ erection again as he started to stroke himself.

Trunks smiled.  Then he gasped as Greg took him further into his mouth.  “Oh Kami, yes,” he whispered, “A Blow Job feels good,” he said in reference to Tora’s earlier joke about the drinks.

“Put your hands in his hair,” Tora ordered.  He watched on the screens in front of him as his other self obeyed.  “You wish it were me doing that, don’t you?”  He watched as Trunks nodded his head, “I can’t hear you.”

 “Yes,” Trunks responded, breathily.

“Make him take you deeper.”

That wasn’t much of an issue; Trunks wanted the same thing.  He tried to keep in mind that it wasn’t his other self doing this to him.  He gripped the silky hair in his grasp a little tighter, noticing that it wasn’t quite as silky as the hair he wanted between his fingers at the moment.  Then he gently rocked his hips forward.

“If it were me, you could slide yourself in all the way into that mouth over and over, and not have to worry about choking me.  I like the way you taste.”

Trunks groaned at the image those words created in his head.  He was certain that the image had more to do with who was speaking rather than his own creative abilities. At times they could think the same, and, at other times, share thoughts.  Usually they had to be in close proximity to each other.  He slid himself a little further into the waiting mouth.  “Kami, yes, I want that.”

“Keep it slow, you don’t want to hurt him,” Tora coached.

That was becoming more and more difficult.  With Tora’s voice in his ear, he just wanted to…..”Ah,” he gasped in surprise, his hips coming away from the wall, when Greg took his full length into his mouth.

Tora chuckled, “Yes, I told you a Blow Job would be good,” there was a pause over the com-link, “I’m hard just watching this,” he admitted.

Trunks barely noticed Greg’s hand sliding down his leg.  His focus was on the sensations the very accomplished Greg was administering to him and the voice in his ear.  The angle changed a little as Greg started to untie his shoelaces.  “He’s talented isn’t he?  Able to suck you off and untie your shoes without skipping a beat,” Tora answered his own question.

Trunks released the human’s hair as he felt the man pulling away, “I only have a half hour, remember?”  Greg reminded him.

“He’s going to be late,” Tora stated, “I don’t want this to be hurried.  We’ll think of something to keep him out of hot water.”

Trunks just nodded to Greg, keeping Tora’s comments to himself.  Greg lifted up one of Trunks’ feet, and freed it of the shoe, pants and boxers.  Then he did the same to the other leg.  Standing up, the brunet slipped out of the rest of his own clothing.  “I didn’t think to bring any…,” Greg started to say.

“There’s some lube in the left corner pocket,” Tora indicated before the other man had even finished his statement.

‘Yes, there are definite advantages to when the entertained knows how to set the stage,’ Trunks mused.  He walked over to the pocket described, and pulled out the tube.  He held it up triumphantly.

Greg’s eyes narrowed slightly, “You set this up?”

Trunks grinned slyly, “Maybe?”

Greg shook his head and laughed, “A little free time, huh?  You even have to schedule that in, I see.”

Trunks laughed as well.  It was almost the truth these days.

“Enough with the chit chat,” Tora said gruffly. 

Trunks tried not to twitch with annoyance.  ‘Tora’s really hot and bothered by this, isn’t he?  Well, let me see what I can do to make him forget this interlude.’  Trunks opened up the tube and squeezed some of the contents out into his palm.  He used a little ki to warm it up a bit.  Then he set the tube down on the table.  Dipped the finger tips of his other hand into the dab of lube, “Why don’t you sit up there and watch for a moment,” he encouraged the brunet, indicating that he sit on the table. 

Greg took a seat on the playing surface of the table, his legs dangling over the side.  He spread his legs open when Trunks walked up in front of him.  He watched as the young corporate president grabbed a hold of his own erection, and started slicking himself with the lube, while standing in between Greg’s open legs.  He was flustered enough by watching, he didn’t even noticed that he had started nibbling at one of his own fingernails.  “Do you like watching?”  Trunks asked.  This time he actually meant the statement to the man in front of him.  He already knew that Tora liked watching.

“Oh, Kami Trunks, I can’t watch that.  You’re going to make me cum,” Trunks heard Tora groan over the earpieces.

“I love playing to an audience,” Trunks said, intending to include both men.  He had a difficult time not laughing when both men moaned at the same time.

“Stop teasing me,” Greg panted.

Trunks pushed gently on the other man’s shoulder with the palm of the hand that wasn’t busy stroking his erection.  “Lay back,” he said.  Greg obediently complied, “You want to feel me stroking inside you?”  He asked knowingly.  He rubbed the slightly warmed lube around Greg’s entrance. 

“Yes,” Greg simply said.

Tora groaned, knowing that the question was actually directed at him.

Trunks smirked.  He continued to stroke himself with the one hand.  He pushed one of his fingers slowly into Greg’s body.  The younger man groaned and bucked his hips.

Trunks admired the writhing body beneath him.  “I like watching when your like this,” he spoke his thoughts out loud.  He closed his eyes momentarily and saw lavender hair in his minds eye, rather than brunet.  The only reply to be heard from Tora was heavy breathing.  He bent down and kissed Greg’s abdomen, and flicked his tongue in his naval.

Trunks pushed another finger into the brunet’s opening and slid his two fingers in and out of Greg’s body.  Once again he got a bizarre sort of after image, and suddenly he knew exactly what angle to use in order to make this man writhing below him scream in ecstasy.  ‘Thanks Tora,’ he thought to himself.  Then he proceeded to use that knowledge relentlessly.

There had been just a moment when Greg had felt as though something ‘wasn’t right.’ Any lingering doubts about this whole situation were forgotten as Greg’s hips bucked off of the table as the angle of Trunks fingers changed, expertly stroking that place inside of his body.  His body flushed in color, and he gave a pleasantly surprised yelp.  “Ah-a!  Oh, gods Trunks, fuck me,” he pleaded desperately.

“Is that what you want?  Me to bury myself deep inside of you?”  Trunks asked. 

 He heard little hitching noises coming from Tora, and a breathy, “Yes,” followed by another yelp from Greg.

Trunks removed his fingers.  He placed the head of his erection against the stretched opening, with one hand, while using the other arm and hand to support Greg’s hips off of the table.  “How do you want it?” he asked mischievously.

Tora groaned loudly; Greg rubbed himself up against the head of Trunks’ cock, “How ever you want to give it to me.”

‘Where did Tora find this slut?’  “Are you sure?”  Greg nodded.

“He knows,” Tora managed to choke out.

Trunks mentally shrugged, and then, thrust himself deeply into the body below him.

“Aaaaaahh!” Greg screamed. 

Trunks kept himself pressed deeply into Greg, “Again?”  he asked.

Greg panted and nodded; Trunks pulled out of Greg’s tight opening until he felt the crown of his erection pull out of the other man’s body.  He paused only for a moment before slamming himself back in to the body waiting below him, eliciting another throaty yell from his partner.  “Gods, that feels so good,” he said, his teeth clinch.

This time he didn’t ask before retreating and reentering his accommodating companion.  He compromised the force he had been using to pick up the speed of his thrusts: every action claiming a vocalized reaction from Greg.  “You like that?  You want more?”  Greg only nodded.

“I want it,” Tora said, his need coming across the communication device easily.

Trunks used a bit of ki to help himself levitate off the floor: just enough to push Greg’s body further onto the table and set his hips down.  He kept a steady, forceful pace, “Tell me about it.  Tell me what you want,” he said, using words that could easily be convened as being directed at either Tora or Greg.

Greg panted out, “Can’t,” around a groan.  He was certain he was going to hyperventilate, but he couldn’t help himself.  Every thrust the lavender haired man was putting into his body was hitting the mark.  He felt his own erection heavy with need, but couldn’t spare any energy on trying to get a hand around it.  His hands and arms were currently occupied over his head holding himself away from a cushion of the table so he wouldn’t be scooted around on the table by the force by which he was being fucked.  ‘It’s always this way with him,’ he reflected.  No one else came close to making him cum without a stroke.

“I want you to be inside me, fucking me hard.  The way you only can with another sayian or demi,” Tora confessed.

Trunks groaned at those words.  He felt his body start to tense at the thought of it being Tora under him, instead of this human.  He shook with the effort to control himself.  He was surprised Greg was able to take as much as he had so far.


Then Greg’s hips propelled up.  A slight choking sound was all he let out as his essence splashed up against his own chest. 

Trunks watched and felt the body underneath him convulse in pleasure.  Greg managed to get a breath in and then howled loud enough that Trunks found a moment to spare to be concerned about whether or not the room was sound proofed.  He bent over the human body and thrust into it a little harder.  His body tensed, and he felt his release bearing down on him.

 “I’m cuming,” he said, and proceeded to do as he promised.  He knew what kind of affect it had on Tora to hear those words coming out of his mouth.  That was how this sort of game had genesissed anyway: Tora wanting Trunks to be more vocal and finding a way to make him be so.

He wasn’t disappointed.  There was a gasp, a momentary silence, and then heavy panting could be heard over the earpiece.

Trunks nuzzled at the neck of his sex partner.  “Put you out did I?” he asked the unconscious form.  “I’ll have to see if I can fix that.”




Greg woke up to the feeling of someone licking his stomach and chest clean.  He groaned in pleasure.  ‘He hasn’t ever done that before,’ he thought to himself.  Then he groaned again when he felt how beat up his body was.  ‘It’s always like this, but I usually don’t have to do anything afterwards.’  Going back to his shift wasn’t going to be much fun.

Trunks gave his prey one last lick, and then rose up enough to look the younger man in the eyes. “Sore?” he asked. 

Greg nodded, slightly embarrassed.  He didn’t like to admit that someone could possibly be more than a match for him.  One of the things he found irresistible about Trunks.  ‘The man is possibly more insatiable than I am.’

Trunks sighed and climbed off of the table.  He fished around the in the pocket that was on the inside of his suit jacket.  Greg looked at the object handed to him, “Eat it.  It will help you out.”  He started pulling his clothes on as Greg inspected the senzu.

Greg shrugged and inspected the little pea looking thing.  He didn’t really believe that there was anything that could help him out of his situation.  He was pleasantly surprised when every ache left his body immediately after chewing and swallowing whatever it was he had been given.

“Well that’s one problem taken care of,” he stated.  He climbed off of the table and started putting his own clothing back on as well.  He had no idea how he was going to explain his tardiness to his shift manger though.

“Don’t worry about you being late.  I have a plan,” Trunks assured him.

Greg shrugged, “Well, even if your plan doesn’t work I want you to know this was worth it.”

Trunks nodded his head and smiled.  “Yes, it was.”



Trunks led Greg back into banquette room 22B.  The match that had been taking place when they had left was now over.  The audience and players had gone to one of the many luncheons.  Greg’s co-workers looked up at his entrance.  One of his friends out of the bunch gave him a mournful look and shook his head.  Brian’s eyes widened a little when he finally figured out whom it was that Greg had followed into the room.

Greg noticed how his manager was talking quietly to the acting president of the Snooker Association.  ‘That can’t be good.’

 “Could you point me in the direction of your manager?  I’d like to apologize to him for taking up your time,” Trunks said loud enough for most of the people in the room to hear.

Both the manager and the president looked up at the sound of his voice, “Ah, Mr. Briefs.  I was hoping to have a word with you.”  The man who spoke was the same man who had almost spoken to him on his way into the elevator earlier.

“That’s the president of the association.  The other man is my manager,” Greg whispered.  The brunet truly hoped that Trunks could pull this one off.

Trunks approached the two gray haired gentlemen.  “Trunks Briefs,” he said bowing shallowly.  

“Damion Valer,” the man to his right introduced himself, “Manager of this floor.  I see you have one of my associates with you.  I hope he wasn’t causing any mischief,”  Damion said, glaring at Greg.

Trunks could almost read the man’s mind, “Oh, no.  Goodness.  He was helpful enough to tour me through the rest of this establishment and the matches going on.  He was very helpful in explaining the game of snooker to me.  I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience to have him gone?”

Damion’s eyes widened slightly. “No, Mr. Briefs.  I am happy that he was willing to do so, for you,” he said a little flustered.

Greg kept his smile to himself, ‘He was right, that worked out quite well.’

The man to Trunks’ left cleared his throat and held out his hand, “I am Mr. Necor.  We spoke over the phone a couple of times,” Mr. Necor inclined his head slightly.

“Ah, yes, of course.  The acting president of this association,” Trunks acknowledged and shook the man’s hand.  “I hope that everything arrived safely?”

“Well, that’s what I was hoping to talk to you about earlier.  When I opened up the capsule that was suppose to have my personal snooker table in it, nothing came out,” Mr. Necor explained himself.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ‘dud’ capsule.

Trunks heard laughter over the earpiece.  ‘Tora, you’re a punk,’ he thought to himself.  “Why don’t I just take that and see if I can fix it?  I’ll have it back to you tomorrow morning,” he said, taking the capsule from the other man’s hand.  He noticed a blush creeping over Greg’s face.

“I’d be extremely grateful if you could,” Mr. Necor said in relief. 




Trunks left the convention room and once again headed towards the elevator.  He reactivated the tongue transmitter before he pressed up button.  For a forth time that day, he found himself in the elevator alone.  A fact he was thankful for, “Don’t you go anywhere!” He admonished Tora.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tora replied.  “I can’t leave until the building has been cleared out for the night anyway.”

“Good, I’m going to see what I can do to fix this capsule of Mr. Necor’s.  Care to join me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”



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