We Read Our Own Porn

As they’d flown back to West City, despite his easygoing attitude toward his father, Trunks kept a discrete eye on him. He did seem a bit odd, though he knew better than to say anything. When they landed at Capsule Corp, Vegeta told him, “You handle your mother’s questions. I’m going to bed. That makes everyone happy, and for once I agree.” “Go ahead, Dad,” Trunks replied, “Nobody’ll disturb you.” He watched him take the hallway directly to his room, satisfied. * Closing and locking his door behind him, Vegeta heaved a sigh of relief. What everyone had been insisting on was exactly what he wanted. The pain and other symptoms in his head were long gone, but he was unusually exhausted. He did not even bother changing into his pyjamas before sliding under his covers, and switching off the lamp. Finally. He’d fully intended on going right to sleep, and lacked not for comfort in his familiar bed, and the fuzzy, warm fleece lining of Goten’s sweatsuit. A faint smile graced his serene face in the dark, then his eyes opened again. Goten. What he’d seen in the demi’s notebook, and firmly intended to forget for just one night, came flooding back in vivid detail. Except this time, it was not monochrome pencil drawings flashing tauntingly through his mind, but every scene of the two of them, in full color flesh and messy hair. “No,” he mumbled aloud in protest, too late. Though chastely it had been, he’d slept beside him, and felt the muscular warmth of his nubile body. His woodsy, sweet-spicy scent was still with him, as was the silken touch of his ebony hair. He’d been wrapped in his ki, lost in his eyes, and had stared at his subtly sensual lips too much. It was so real to him now. Too real, and the scenes took on a life of their own in his mind. Vegeta slams Goten against the wall of his room, gripping his wrists tightly and greedily kissing those adorable lips as the demi Saiyan melts into it, wrapping his leg lasciviously around him. He can feel his manhood grinding lightly against his own with a playful smirk while his freed hands grope his ass. That’s okay, let him play. Vegeta’s mouth moves down to devour the satiny skin of his neck, overwhelmed with the urge to bite. Goten’s hand slides down to rub his aching cock while Vegeta does the same, neither caring how loud their moans become. The demi’s hand slides down his pants to lightly stroke it, waiting for his strangled cry to stop with a dark, beguiling smirk. Fucking little tease… Vegeta deals him a few bitch-slaps, watching his eyes cloud with submissive lust. In a blurred struggle, their clothes are ripped free, skin against skin while Vegeta whispers the sealing words, ‘Show me you’re mine.’ Goten kneels at his feet, enlacing him while soft kisses to his now leaking member turn to a crescendo of licks, then gentle sucking before he engulfs him into his warm, wet, and talented mouth… Trembling intensely now, Vegeta tugged down the front of his pants and took hold of his throbbing shaft, burying his face into his pillow to stifle his halting moans. The wetness that leaked from him became that of Goten’s perfectly twisting mouth, and now he was obliged to bite his other hand to not be overheard. Vegeta lifts Goten and throws him brutally onto the bed, a hand stroking his back with a contrasting gentleness. He knows how to prepare a virgin, and it isn’t long before he has the demi Saiyan reduced to a quivering mass of pleasure. No, wait. He wants to see and feel it all, slowly turning Goten on his back. Their eyes lock, and something happens… - “Goten,” Vegeta sighed into his hair. - “Vegeta…” he could have sworn he heard, too hot to even think at this point. He takes him, first gently, at times obliged to withdraw and wait, then gradually harder as his signals encourage. It seemed so real… too real for a mere fantasy, yet his hand slowed, despite his body clamoring for release. Goten’s back arches, his pleasured cries making it difficult to hold back. His fingernails pierce his skin as he thrusts back, always wanting more. Vegeta’s hand pumped harder, tasting blood from his free hand in trying not to make a similar noise as he climbed higher toward the point of no return. Almost, almost… Never has the demi Saiyan looked so beautiful than in their shared throes of pleasure. His body trembling, his tight contractions making his lover sure he would certainly burst until they finally let go, not caring if the entire world could see or hear. Vegeta brushes away a lock of hair from the demi’s flushed cheeks, watching his fluttering eyes opened to slits… open almost fully. In the last few seconds before precious release, Vegeta was staring into Goten’s eyes, and felt his body beneath his own. A flashback. - ‘You’re not getting it back,’ he’d actually said, of his sweatsuit. ‘You’re mine,’ he voiced sincerely now, of Goten. - A smiling thumbs-up had actually meant, ‘Okay,’ at that time, of his sweatsuit. ‘Yes,’ he voiced sincerely now, to Vegeta. Imagination or reality, Vegeta’s and Goten’s eyes remained locked, each feeling the other enclosed in his embrace in their shuddering climax. Ecstasy, like a clap of thunder, descending gracefully in glistening rain. Collapsing gratefully in euphoric afterglow… Vegeta went limp, facedown until his breathing returned to normal. His eyes opened slowly, finding himself alone, of course. Still, he remained stunned. Whatever had just happened was as crazy as it was amazing. * A significant distance away in his darkened bedroom, Goten layed still in his own afterglow, just as incredulous as he caught his breath. That experience could not have been real. Had Vegeta really felt the same thing? he ventured to wonder. Such a thing could not be true, but the sparkling sensations still with him now were real enough to silence his logic, sending him back to sleep with a genuine, secretive smile. * As drowsy as he was, Vegeta stared at his darkened ceiling in disbelief. What in the hell had he…? It was not the act itself that spun his thoughts in turmoil; sometimes, DIY was just necessary to decompress. It wasn’t so strange that Goten should be the subject of his fantasy, either. He wasn’t blind, and who could blame him after what he’d seen earlier that day? Though, none had ever left him so troubled. Why did he have to find the damn notebook, anyway? he thought crossly. Under a mattress was doubtlessly the stupidest hiding place ever. It was most likely stuffed there hastily and forgotten, and who could have guessed the turn of events? Vegeta gave up and turned on his side, allowing his heavy eyelids to finally close for the night. * A new day at Capsule Corp brought with it the refreshing clarity of rested minds and peace, or as much as could be expected. “The doctor will stop by this morning to examine your head, just to make sure,” Bulma informed Vegeta over coffee and breakfast, “It won’t take long.” “It was the best I could do,” Trunks quickly replied to his father’s stern glare, which he levelled at Bulma. “For a little bump,” Vegeta snorted, but knew that arguing would just make things more difficult than was worth the trouble. “That isn’t what ChiChi said on the phone,” she commented dryly as she and her mother refilled everyone’s cups. Vegeta slumped in his chair. “Mystery solved,” he muttered to himself. * Some time later in the lab, their aging family doctor studied his patient’s x-ray and scan. He nodded to himself in relief, having expected much worse. “Everything looks fine,” he announced to them in dubious surprise. He thought for a moment before advising Vegeta, “I’d rather you take today off training, though you probably won’t. The reason is outside of my speciality, but still in the field of general health.” The Briefs exchanged glances of unease. When Vegeta said nothing, confused, the doctor turned to Trunks. “I trust you and your friend can practice on your own today?” “We get Sundays off,” Trunks replied. “You give your students a day off, but not yourself,” he observed rhetorically.  “It’s not work,” Vegeta explained impatiently, “It’s what I do. It’s who I am.” He frowned, seeming to be talking more to himself than present company. “I see.” The doctor thought for a moment more, then concluded, “Well, take today off, anyway. Maybe there is a book you’ve been meaning to read, a project, a visit, or just a quiet day. Of course, if you experience any pain, inflammation, hallucinations, or other unusual symptoms, call me or emergency right away.” Vegeta and Trunks nodded. “Thank you, Doctor,” Bulma replied. She and her parents accompanied him to the door, Bulla tagging after them. “I’m sure he has a good reason to advise a break,” Trunks commented when they were alone, knowing his father did as he pleased regardless. “It’s no big deal,” Vegeta brushed off. “Okay.” Trunks blinked, not knowing what to make of that, but changed the subject. “I meant to ask. I don’t suppose Goten told you what his problem is?” “No, he didn’t.” Vegeta internally cringed, thanking his lucky star that he would not have to look the younger male in the face that day. “He doesn’t even want to hang out anymore,” Trunks complained, “All we do is watch anime and play video games, and he’s being such an emo.” “‘Emo?’” “An attitude like ‘I’m so deep and complex, and no one understands me,’” Trunks parodied, “Sometimes it’s creepy, like he’s not really there. He doesn’t even care if he wins or loses.“ “That, I’ve noticed,” Vegeta replied, wondering if it was because of him. “Well, let him space out if he wants to. I’d just rather he didn’t in training.” “Slightly preferable,” Trunks mumbled in irony, but put it aside. “Got anything specific planned today?” “No.” Vegeta didn’t know what else to do. “What kind of books do you have?” Glad to see him show a small interest in something, Trunks brightened. “Look at my bookshelf.” He led him to his room and indicated his books. “Manga up here - mostly action and sci-fi - novels here, and tech refs on the bottom. Help yourself. From here, I mean.” “I already saw your hidden ones, and no thanks,” Vegeta returned dryly, smirking when Trunks’ face paled. “What’s wrong with them?” Trunks demanded defensively, “Wait, why were you snooping?” “I wasn’t, I was looking for a shirt you never gave back,” Vegeta informed him, “But, to each their own thing, I guess.” “Well, what is your ‘thing’?” Trunks challenged, doubting he would admit to anything. Vegeta made a face. “Not cyborgs that can grow tentacles.” “Then I’m not worried,” Trunks said cheerfully, stifling a snicker, “Later, then.” “Hn.” When he left, Vegeta studied his array of reading, mostly kept in good condition. After much hesitation, he finally settled on a few that were unusual choices for him, before bringing them back to his room. * An hour later found Vegeta sitting on his bed with an opened manga drawing guide and several sheets of paper scattered about. A scene in one manga had inspired him to try. The drawing guide depicted skeletal structures of generic human figures in various poses, which involved lots of circles. Trying to draw hands made him contemplate witchcraft, and just trying to get everything in correct proportion… “Fuck! Be damned!” In a final bout of frustration, he crumpled the paper and angrily flung it against the wall, where it joined a mound of other failed attempts. In a swift motion, he flung the lot off his bed, and slumped with a defeated scowl. He could not draw. He’d never tried, and had no patience to learn what had never actually interested him. He settled back to think of the kinds of smut he’d seen before, becoming very discouraged. It wasn’t likely that he would see Goten’s personalized drawings again, and they were so perfect. What could he possibly do to make something even remotely close to it? He’d read a couple of X-rated novellas, and several fanfictions on the internet… wait. He sat upright, and retrieved his laptop from its drawer and case. He turned it on, opened a simple text program, and typed the first thing that sprang to his mind on literature: “'Back into my chamber turning, All my soul within me burning, Dreaming, Doubting, Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before…'” ~ Vegeta smiled slowly. He doubted that he possessed any talent approaching that of the great Poe, (who must have been turning over in his grave at that moment) but he had some. He couldn’t describe how he knew that, but he could feel it. He moved the laptop to his pillow and sprawled facedown before it. Smiling, he entitled the text, Senpai Notices Kohai. Well, it was a working title. Underneath it, he wrote, by Anonymous. He shut his eyes, allowing himself to daydream. Hesitantly at first, but before he knew it, he was fully immersed in one of his favorite fantasies. The more he allowed it to unfold in his mind, the more intense and hotter it became. His body reacted naturally and accordingly to the scenario, no surprise, but he let it play out until it was crystal clear, almost real, in his mind. I can’t write that! a part of his mind protested, horrified at the prospect of someone… anyone… finding and reading it. Then again, no one would suspect him of actually writing his own porn, even less would it be so foolishly hidden. Besides, his password and lockdown system was based on the technology of a galaxy the Earthlings had never encountered, thus was unbreachable. Confident as well as inspired, he began to type: It was a mild, pleasant day of early summer, a light, foresty-scented breeze whispering its mysterious promise as it rustled through his hair. A sudden North wind seemed to echo his anxieties, as he knew how wrong it was, what he was about to do. However, when the Saiyan formerly known as the prince was resolute, nothing deterred him. At the sight of the small, familiar dome house below, he slowed in flight and floated down to the roof. Furtively he peeked into the specific upstairs window, confirming what he knew. Now reclined on his bed reading, the demi Saiyan would be home alone all weekend, and who would think to look for himself here? Here, now, tired of dreaming, knowing what he knew to be true… The unlocked window opened with ease, and he stepped in, startling the unsuspecting teen. Recognition shone in his eyes, with curiosity and perhaps something more. “You’ve teased me for too long, Goten,” Vegeta whispered with a smirk, his arm deceptively gentle as it slid around his waist. He slammed the sexy demi against the wall, firmly pinning down his wrists while his lips captured Goten’s in a savage, bruising kiss that elated him to feel returned. “Don’t you think it’s time to play?” … Vegeta completely lost track of time, so engrossed he was in his story, it became his reality. It gave him an odd physical and emotional satisfaction, as though it were truly happening as he wrote. Maybe transforming into a butterfly wasn’t so difficult after all. Who would have guessed how happy it would make him? Vegeta smiled at having discovered a new hobby. It would even be worth sacrificing a few hours of training, he realized. Before he knew it, his first scene and chapter were almost finished. He hesitated at the exact wording of the last paragraph, when he was jolted from his reverie by a knock at his door. “What?” he called in irritation. “Dad? Sorry, but can I talk to you a second?” Trunks asked from the hallway. His voice sounded subdued and perturbed. Frowning, Vegeta hastily clicked Save Text and hid the window. “Alright.” Trunks entered, seeing the computer. “What are you typing?” he asked curiously. “My memoirs,” Vegeta improvised, “It sounds like something’s wrong?” Trunks nodded. “What I told you about Goten, that you noticed? Well, I called as usual to hang out, at either place, and he said he wanted to be alone. Thing is, he sounded really upset. He denied it and doesn’t want to talk to me or anyone else, but… I don’t like it.” Vegeta frowned, feeling a stab of guilt. Maybe it really was all because of himself. To Trunks, he replied, “That doesn’t sound too strange. Don’t you ever want to be left alone?” “Yeah, but I’m not constantly depressed.” Trunks leaned morosely against the wall. “He’s my best friend, and I see there’s nothing I can do. I just want him to be happy again.” Vegeta looked at him differently, and sobered. “It could be any number of reasons we know nothing about. Let me think, alright?” Trunks nodded, looking partially relieved. “Okay. Thanks.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him. Vegeta hid his face in his hands. Everyone seemed to sense it. It was for him to make right, but how? He wasn’t good at such things. Paradoxically, he was writing like a boss, yet would be incapable of expressing the same things for real. Good grief, it was a fantasy! ‘Was’ being the operative word. What had happened in the space of one day? And when? It could not have happened as quickly as that. He wasn’t ready to elaborate on exactly what ‘it’ was, but he felt it clearly, and it scared the hell out of him. But that could be addressed later. Supposing it were the case, why was Goten depressed today when they’d been joking and borderline flirting the night before? Joking. He’d answered his own question, he reflected grimly. It was unfair, he admitted. What would he think in his place, almost omniscently? Vegeta underhandedly knew how Goten felt, but Goten surely assumed he was not himself, was only kidding, and had forgotten it all. Vegeta glanced at his text, biting his lip. It was only fair… Are you crazy? he mentally demanded. Good gods, he would be the last person to step over his dead body to read it! Then again, he didn’t need to know who had written it, and there was a way to find out for sure. He added a foreward note, reworded the last sentence, and easily finished the chapter. Afterward, he typed, To Be Continued? Quickly, Vegeta sneaked out, down the long hallway, and into the office. He plugged his laptop into the printer, clicked, and watched it obediently transfer his story onto paper. It was longer than he’d realized, and a heavy-duty stapler was needed to attach them. Careful to delete every trace, he slipped the manuscript into a manilla envelope, and sealed it before sneaking it back to his room like a thief. Re-encrypting his laptop, he shut it off and put it away. He put on his shoes, gathered the envelope and a few necessities, then opened his window. He paused, thinking of what he was about to do. “I should really have my head examined… again,” he muttered, then flew off before he could lose the nerve. * Vegeta’s secretive flight to the Sons’ home bore an eerie ressemblance to the one he’d written, save one huge difference: he was not to be seen, by Goten nor anyone. He found a fitting place to hide the envelope, lowered his ki, and skulked carefully to the correct side of the house. All was quiet inside, so he floated up near Goten’s window, again like in his story. Goten had pulled down but not fully closed his Venetian blind, and the window was opened a little. Perfect. Vegeta peeked into the side of the window, firstly to see how he was really doing. He was indeed reclined on his bed with his arms loosely crossed, his eyes shut but not asleep. That did not tell him much, so he stayed to watch. After several minutes, Goten opened his eyes halfway with a dull sigh, staring blankly at the far wall, then closed them again. Vegeta’s throat tightened, half wishing he could go inside. He recalled just how comfortable he’d felt the day before, and wanted to curl up beside him again. He didn’t appear to be upset, but melancholic indeed. He could see it now. Maybe he could remedy that. Vegeta withdrew from his pocket a pebble, a rubber band, and a smaller sheet of paper. On it was typed: Goten, Under the rock behind your mailbox - go look. Hope you like it. - Anonymous Vegeta wrapped the paper around the pebble, attaching it with the rubber band. With careful aim, he tossed it in through the window so that it bounced off his shoulder. Goten’s eyes opened in confusion, and he found and curiously opened the strange message. Intrigued, he slipped on his shoes and looked outside, of course seeing no one. He also left by the window, following the message’s instructions with a decent mix of wariness and intrigue. Behind the Sons’ mailbox was a rock large enough for an average person to sit on. Indeed, he spotted the manila envelope and retrieved it, hurrying back to his room through the window. Very carefully now, Vegeta watched through the side of the blind as Goten opened it and read the forward note. It read: I hope you aren’t offended, but you’re my OTP. Don’t seek to know who I am. Just enjoy. Goten reread the message a couple of times, then quickly turned the page. He read the first part, a blush and a slow grin covering his face. A few lines later, he spontaneously kissed the manuscript, then clutched it to his chest. He read on, feeling his heart race, the misty look in his eyes telling Vegeta all he needed to know… for now. The prince began his flight back toward West City, smiling faintly. He regretted not a word there written, nor was he as before, still dreading looking Goten in the face… no, nevermore. * TBC in Chapter 3… (A/N: Hopefully I don’t need a disclaimer that I didn’t write “The Raven”. Neither did Vegeta.)