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The Moaning	By : MutantPoptart Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4970 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Lasting Impression

There was shock in the older man’s face when he saw him, then frustration. He told Trunks to leave.
Trunks didn’t.
Vegeta powered up and flew away.
Trunks followed.
Vegeta cursed at the other Saiyan and threw a blast.
Trunks swatted the blast away.
“So you want a real training session for a change, boy?” Vegeta said finally, when it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to shake the persistent demi-Saiyan.
Trunks stared at him.
The odd presence of the lavender-haired Saiyan was disquieting to Vegeta but he hid his unease in a snarl and charged forward in a head-on attack. This would show the brat that he wasn’t ready to trade blows with a true Saiyan.
Trunks evaded the fists and kicks with an ease that frustrated his father even more and when Trunks powered up at last, revealing his true and unbridled energy, it came as such a shock to Vegeta that he could only stare for several moments in disbelief.
Then Trunks attacked.
Before that point, it had not been totally clear to Vegeta exactly how powerful his son had grown in his training. In fact, he assumed that he had surpassed the younger Saiyan. He didn’t know that Trunks was in fact much stronger.

Vegeta landed in a smoking heap on the white ground, his Saiyan armor in tatters and limbs twitching. He was so out of it, he didn’t protest when Trunks took his arm over his shoulder and flew them back to the temple.
Vegeta was coherent as Trunks walked them to the bedchamber. He seethed and winced but didn’t resist as Trunks sat him down on the bed.
“You—bastard!” The beaten Saiyan spat, eyes only slits in his bodily pain.
Trunks, who was sliding Vegeta’s boots off, paused only a moment to frown up at his belligerent father before removing the second boot.
Then he lifted his father up and held him propped against himself to remove his torn top. Vegeta gritted his teeth as his arms were lifted and the tight shirt pulled over his head.
Next were the pants. Trunks took Vegeta’s hands and placed them on his own shoulders to steady the weakened man while the younger Saiyan knelt to begin pulling the shredded spandex down the shaky thighs.
“How did you—where did you--” Vegeta gritted out, barely registering Trunks’ hands around his ankles, alternately lifting each foot to slide the crumpled pants free.
Trunks didn’t answer but rose to his feet again. When his father began to sway and lose balance, he caught him easily and laid him gently down onto the bed.
“Don’t! You bastard, how did you—“
Trunks took a look down at the tense, scuffed body, now bare except for the black shorts, of which he must have owned dozens. He was so vulnerable then, so weakened and stripped in mind and body.
“What are you doing?”
“Tell me, father,” Trunks said at last, as he lifted his own shirt over his head, “is it easier to train now that you don’t have my cum leaking out of you?”
Vegeta’s eyes bulged.
“W-what did you say?”
Trunks slid onto the bed on top of his father as the stunned man gaped up at him. The battered and dazed Saiyan was so shocked by the sudden closeness, the rest of his protests seemed to dissipate in his throat.
“Didn’t you ever wonder why your ass was so sore all those mornings? Or did you just think it was from training?” he smiled slyly at his father’s expression.
“What are you—“ he began pushing at Trunks’ chest with battle-shocked limbs.
“I fucked you so many times I can’t even count. You just slept right through it though. What did Freiza do to you that you can just sleep through that?”
Vegeta looked outraged and tried to slide out from beneath his ardent son. Trunks pushed him down, a weary look on his face.
“Don’t bother.”
He held both of Vegeta’s wrists to the mattress and hovered over him. In Vegeta’s weakened state, Trunks was able to pry his thighs apart with a knee and settle between them.
“You’re really fucked up, you know that,” he said into Vegeta’s snarling face, “you wake up every morning covered in your own cum, you still can’t even face it.
Vegeta was powering up beneath him but even if the full-blooded Saiyan was fully recovered he would have been no match for Trunks.
“You don’t have to pretend. I understand now.”
“What are you blabbering about? You’re crazy! Get off of me!”
Trunks’ hand s slid down the fighting body, fingers gentle and lingering as they followed every dip and curve of muscle, quickly finding paths and nooks that drew reluctant responses from the pinned Saiyan.
Vegeta’s body began trembling sooner than Trunks predicted but he was not disappointed.
“Get your hands off of me, boy! If you want to leave this chamber alive—“
Trunks shushed him softly and Vegeta gaped.
“Look at your body, father. You can act like you don’t want my hands on you but your body,” Trunks leaned down and flicked his tongue across a pert nipple causing a wave of electricity to pass through Vegeta’s frame, “I know what it likes. I know what it needs.”
Vegeta gasped suddenly as Trunks hand disappeared beneath his shorts.
“Please don’t pretend anymore father. You don’t have to with me.”
“S-stop this. Do you– know what you’re doing boy?“
“I’m not Frieza,” Trunks urged, and Vegeta’s eyes flashed at the name, “I won’t hurt you or humiliate you or whatever it is he did to make you like this.”
“Why do you—what do you know about—anything!” He said between stifled grunts.
Trunks hand was sure and knowing.
“I don’t know what happened to you but I can tell you, I’m not like that. I love you, father. I just want…” Vegeta gasped. What did Trunks want?
Vegeta was panting and his brow was gleaming with sweat. His eyes where dark slits and his struggles were subsiding into feeble tremors.
Trunks fingers slid further down to another spot they knew well and Vegeta looked away, faced flushed and damp.
“Trunks no,” he lamented.
Trunks fingers did pause a moment. The name was so new and the younger Saiyan realized he’s never heard it from his father in this way. It was a beautiful and halting sound. Part of him thought he would really stop then. But Vegeta’s averted gaze and odd demeanor brought him back. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it for a moment and then suddenly, he saw. It was resignation. Defeat. Was this what Freiza did? Defeat him and claim his spoils? Was this the ultimate repercussion Vegeta associated with defeat? Was this what drove his father to seek further planes of strength , to reach higher and higher peaks of power? Was it so that he would never again be on the losing end of a battle and have to yield in this way to a stronger warrior? Was it Trunks now, taking his due winnings from the Saiyan Prince, who was triumphed once again?
He slid his hand out of the spandex shorts. Vegeta’s eyes rose to his. Instead of releasing his father, Trunks grabbed a fistful of the clinging spandex and tore them away entirely.
Vegeta’s eyes shot open to look directly at him, wholly alert and horror-stricken.
Trunks didn’t want to be another ghost in Vegeta’s nightmares, but maybe Frieza was onto something. Maybe he knew how to get to the prince, how to claim him entirely.
Was this the way to get through to his father? There was no fixing fucked-up, and playing the devoted son certainly wasn’t getting him anywhere. Maybe this was how he would finally earn his father’s respect, his affection— by taking it.
Vegeta’s thighs where rigid and taught but Trunks shoved between them, ignoring the hitch in Vegeta’s breath. He didn’t prepare his father for the intrusion. The older Saiyan had taken enough cock in his life to keep him nice and open. Trunks didn’t truly feel that way but he enjoyed the effect when he said it aloud to Vegeta.
He shoved in while Vegeta was still reeling from the jarring comment and his dark eyes went wide and dilated.
“That’s it, father, look at me.” Trunks said as he immediately began a hard pace, strokes full and unrelenting.
Vegeta shuttered every time Trunks bottomed out and his eye-lids grew steadily heavier. He tried to turn away but Trunks took the hand that wasn’t restraining Vegeta’s wrists and wrapped it around the older Saiyan’s throat. He didn’t constrict air-flow but he was not gentle either. He forced Vegeta’s attention on him.
“Watch me while I fuck you, father.”
Vegeta grunted and bared his teeth.
Trunks smiled into the snarling face. There was no going back now. He dropped all his gentleness. Vegeta wouldn’t take any of it anyway. But as he humiliated and abused and penetrated him, Vegeta’s hard cock leaked and bounced against his belly. Trunks understood.
“I get it now. You need to be degraded. Put in your place.” He emphasized the point with hard, bearing thrusts.
Vegeta didn’t reward the indignity with a response.
“Did you want Goku to do this to you when he beat you? Fuck you like this, like Frieza used to?”
“b-bastard.”
Trunks laughed and abruptly withdrew from Vegeta’s body. The Saiyan prince was not prepared and made a sound like the air had been pulled out of him too.
The younger Saiyan looked down at the trembling, traumatized orifice and up at Vegeta, whose face flushed more deeply than before. Trunks pushed Vegeta’s thighs further apart with his own to get a better look at his work. The lewd exposure was doing wonders to Vegeta’s pride. The older Saiyan was trying to look away again but Trunks tightened his hold on his throat to keep his attention. Vegeta’s cock was throbbing and swollen.
Trunks flipped Vegeta over onto his stomach and plunged into him again without a moment’s pause. Vegeta actually screamed at the sudden breach.
“This is your favorite position, father!” It wasn’t a question. He reinvigorated his pace without giving Vegeta time to accommodate it. “I’ve made you cum countless times like this without even touching you.”
Vegeta gargled a moan.
“This is how you’re meant to be, isn’t it father? Fucked like a dog?”
Vegeta tried to hold himself up on shaking arms but collapsed flat as Trunks continued to piston into him, hips meeting muscled ass in loud, hard spanks.
Trunks had not realized in his fury, that he’d gone Super Saiyan. But when he did, he didn’t curb his force as he plundered his father but kept the steady rhythm.
Vegeta was delirious as he laid and took the punishing pace. He didn’t curse or beg Trunks to stop, he didn’t seem able to form words at all anymore. His mouth hung open and his eyes rolled. Despite his evident state, he wasn’t unconscious. The indications of his lucidity were subtle but rewarding to Trunks: There was the occasional twitching of his fingers when Trunks changed angles, the wrenching moans, the intentional rise of his hips in an otherwise flattened posture and lastly-- Trunks’ favorite-- the electric, clinging spasms of his insides around Trunks cock every time his orgasm hit.
“How many times is that now, father,” the demi-Saiyan asked, expecting no response.
Vegeta gurgled incoherently as Trunks lifted his limp body up and held him upright against his chest. It was a new position and looked like a gentle embrace but what he did next was anything but. He dropped the Saiyan prince down hard on his cock, leaving him no choice but to be filled to the hilt in one swift motion.
Vegeta’s head fell drunkenly back onto his son’s shoulder as he was bounced violently like a doll on the unrelenting appendage, his own fleshy cock bouncing obnoxiously in the air.
Trunks had orgasmed some number of times as well but didn’t allow it to slow him. He would fill up his father until he popped, until he couldn’t even crawl away from him, and he could only lay splayed and lifeless while cum oozed out of him making a lake around his weak, sex-drained body.
When Trunks did finish, he laid his father’s smaller frame down on the damp sheets. They were just short of soaked from the sweat and cum-- both Vegeta’s and Trunks’-- and tears—Vegeta’s alone. The older Saiyan would surely pass out within second of Trunks leaving him but he wouldn’t dream. And when he woke-- if he’d orgasmed in his sleep-- the stain would be unrecognizable amidst the dozens of stains already populating the sheets. What was certain was that he would remember Trunks.
Trunks went to sleep in his own bed and didn’t fear the morning. He would look his father in the eye, and for once see recognition.
The next day, Trunks awoke .
Vegeta didn’t look at Trunks but somehow this time it didn’t leave Trunks feeling invisible. It was an intentional aversion, Trunks knew, and the silence was palpable. It wasn’t the silences of before that made Trunks think that his father was pretending he wasn’t there, it was entirely separate. It was clear to Trunks that Vegeta was thinking of nothing else but him.
As Trunks eyed the smaller man freely, and without restraint-- something that was also new-- he realized that he could take his father again there, hold his head down against the table and tear away his training suit. He could do it right there and maybe Vegeta would be so shamed from his complete defeat the day before that he wouldn’t fight. Maybe Trunks would take Vegeta anytime the urge hit him from that point on.
But he didn’t move. He finished his breakfast and both Saiyans left to train.
Trunks watched Vegeta take off again in the opposite direction and felt the familiar pull to follow him, but he let it subside.
Over the following days, Trunks did not seek out his father again. He sensed that his father was expecting it though. At night when they went to their separate sides of the room, he saw the strain in his father’s back as he undressed, the sheen of sweat. He climbed stiffly into his bed without a glance in Trunks’ direction.
Trunks could've taken him then too but he didn’t. He found Vegeta in the bathing rooms days later and the two stared at each other for a moment until Vegeta stiffened and covered himself. He left with his jaw clenched. Trunks didn’t stop him.
There were a number of times Trunks could have made another move, cemented his dominance, but he let them pass as well. Vegeta too seemed to be expecting him to do something. He seemed to wake every morning with a look of slow dawning, surprised that nothing had happened in the night. Briefly, he would meet Trunks’ eyes with a furtive suspicion, as if wondering if his son was planning something, biding his time for when Vegeta would least expect another attack.
In truth, Trunks was planning nothing. It seemed he had gotten it out of his system. He knew now what it meant to have power over his father, to finally be seen. It wasn’t bad and it wasn’t good. It just was.
It was a month before their year-long stay in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber would come to an end when Trunks was lying in his own bed after a routine day of eating, training, and watching his father move warily around him. He now laid awake, listening absently to his father stirring across the room.
Although the dreams had ceased for a short time after Trunks’ confronted Vegeta, they eventually started up again and had returned as a nightly reoccurrence. Trunks lied awake sometimes, just listening to it. Occasionally, he heard an errant “Frieza,” or even an off-hand “Kakarot.” He heard groans, moans, hisses and sighs. All the usual.
Tonight was no different.
The sounds coming from the opposite canopy were all among the typical litany of calls. Trunks only idly listened, already half asleep. But when he heard a croaked, “Trunks,” his blue eyes shot open.
There were more deep moans and the sound of sifting sheets.
Trunks went perfectly still and did not even dare to inhale.
There were deep, dragging moans and the Saiyan name, clearer now, came again. Then came the sound of heavy, desperate breathing and a squeaking of the bed frames as though Vegeta were reenacting the hard fucking he had gotten that day and Trunks could picture too easily his pert ass in the air imitating the position of taking Trunks’ merciless pistoning.
The creaking slowed and the low moaning became higher and higher in pitch until it broke off into a stuttering gasp.
A smile spread across Trunks’ lips.

The End
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The Moaning