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Barracks	By : chayron Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 16996 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Barracks
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Part 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39
- 40-Part 40
- 41-Part 41
- 42-Part 42
- 43-Part 43
- 44-Part 44
- 45-Part 45
- 46-Part 46
- 47-Part 47
- 48-Part 48
- 49-Part 49
- 50-Part 50
- 51-Part 51
- 52-Part 52
- 53-Part 53
- 54-Part 54
- 55-Part 55
- 56-Part 56
- 57-Part 57
- 58-Part 58
- 59-Part 59
- 60-Part 60
- 61-Part 61
- 62-Part 62
- 63-Part 63
- 64-Part 64
- 65-Part 65
- 66-Part 66
- 67-Part 67
- 68-Part 68
- 69-Part 69
- 70-Part 70
- 71-Part 71
- 72-Part 72
- 73-Part 73
- 74-Part 74
- 75-Part 75
- 76-Part 76
- 77-Part 77
- 78-Part 78
- 79-Part 79
- 80-Part 80
- 73
- 74
- 75
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.
Warnings: Alternate Universe. Yaoi (male x male). Goten x Trunks and vice versa. Other pairings.
Barracks
by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), betaread by werewolfflutist
Part 74
The windows in his new office faced north, which meant that it was pleasantly warm in the morning and not too hot during the rest of the day. His old office faced the sun most of the time, and he used to sweat buckets in his uniform. This was a nice change.
Trunks sighed and rubbed the back of his neck to try and relax the cramping muscles. The day was coming to an end, and he was dead tired. The never-ending flow of information was exhausting. He kept accepting and issuing delivery orders for new inventory and supplies for everyone: the third-class builders, his savars, and the officers. He had also decided to resume the lectures beginning the next week and now was working on a preliminary schedule. There was a shortage of lecturers and classrooms. He would have to somehow make do until the third-classes were done with the construction projects.
A third of the savars hadn’t returned to the base yet, and he was getting daily notifications of their deaths. He had also received the news of the death of six lecturers, and they had to be replaced as well. It wasn’t an easy task, as now all schools faced the same problem. For the time being, he would also have to undertake one or two subjects to teach.
The prince closed his eyes in annoyance. As if he didn’t already have too many things to do. There was no shyu on the base either. Having one wouldn’t decrease his workload, but it would, at least, help out the shaii, who was already going nuts while supervising hundreds of lively savars and the construction projects at the same time. Just yesterday, two elites had nearly killed a third-class builder because he, accidentally or not, spilled a can of white paint on their boots.
“Oh right. The doctors. I nearly forgot.”
With a groan, the prince dug around in the pile of documents on his desk. The list with the needed medical supplies had to be somewhere there. He had to send it today, together with an application for medical personnel. He, however, didn’t even expect anyone to get back to him for several months as, currently, there was no one available. The beaten up third-class and his broken leg would just have to trust the skill of his colleagues and the officers. He, however, wanted to talk to the third-class and convince him to leave the base and get the proper treatment. The problem was that the third-class clearly wouldn’t want to travel by train alone and was waiting for the end of the construction projects, when he would be able to travel by aircraft with the help of his coworkers. It was probably a smart thing to do, but the longer he waited, the bigger the possibility that, without proper medical care, his leg might heal incorrectly and would cause him problems in the future. And while no one else on the base gave two shits about some insignificant third-class, Trunks had his own view on things like these. He would probably have to threaten the third-class to make him get on the train.
Was this day ever going to end?
There was a knock on the door, and the prince nearly slammed his palm on the desk in frustration. “What?” he yelled at the door.
The shaii, who was already getting used to the taisa’s temper displays, entered the office and headed straight for his desk. He was carrying a laptop.
“Your Highness, I…”
“I told you to address me ‘sir’!” Trunks snapped at him. “I’m serving as a taisa here and not as the heir to the throne!”
“Yes, sir,” Ardo corrected himself, lowering the laptop in front of the prince’s annoyed face. “Sir, I think I found something interesting,” he said, pressing the play button.
A painfully familiar video unfolded before the prince’s eyes. For probably the thirtieth time, he watched two Legendaries fight King Cooler.
“Doesn’t he look familiar, sir?” Ardo asked, suddenly pausing the video.
Trunks blinked at Goten’s face on the screen and tried to pretend that he was thinking. “I can’t say that he does,” he said finally.
The shaii gave him a sly look. “Can’t say as in ‘can’t recognize’ or can’t say as in ‘classified’?”
Trunks glared at him. “Why the hell are you asking me if you already know?”
Ardo, who hadn’t expected such a quick confirmation of his suspicions, closed the laptop with a soft click. “Sir, I was wondering if we have any special orders concerning Goten Bardock.”
Trunks didn’t like the way the shaii enunciated the word “special”.
“No, we don’t.”
“So I treat him as any other savar, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, sir,” the shaii said and removed his laptop off the prince’s desk. Pushing it under his right arm, he turned to go.
Trunks had a feeling that Ardo had not only made sure where he stood with the Legendary but also with the Saiyan Prince’s lover. Goten and the shaii, they didn’t really get along. The shaii was making sure that he had total freedom to deal with Goten if the need arose. Trunks bit back a groan. By this time, probably the entire base knew that the two of them were fucking. For gods’ sakes… Trunks felt the urge to slam his forehead on the desk.
Ardo had already reached the door, but then stopped and turned around. “Sir? Have you taken a look at my request for a day off?”
The prince blinked at him. “A request?”
“Yes, sir. I put it on your desk two days ago.”
Discontented, Trunks started digging in the mountain of the documents again. “You do realize that we are incredibly busy at the moment?” he grunted out while searching for the application. “What do you even want that free day for?”
“Family matters, sir.”
Trunks scowled at the papers in front of him. Yeah, right. Then an idea came to him. “Listen, there’s this third-class with a broken leg. He needs someone to see him to the capital.”
The shaii didn’t say anything at all to this, and the prince raised his head to see his scandalized face. Right. Elites and third-classes was a no go. For gods’ sakes. With the exception of Goten, he hardly ever had an opportunity to interact with anyone from the third-class and sometimes just forgot that it was a huge issue not only for him and Goten, but also for other elites and third-classes. He had to tread carefully here. He lowered his eyes back to the accursed pile of documents. Where the hell was that application?
“Hmm… How about an additional day off for seeing that poor bugger to the capital?” It was probably not even close to the compensation an elite would deign to accept for dealing with a third-class, but they had to start somewhere.
“No, sir.”
The elite’s voice was filled with disgust, but there had been some hesitation there. The hesitation could have meant anything from an indignant shock to unease. And was Ardo disgusted with him or the idea? Could be both as well.
“And how about two? My final offer.”
It was quiet in the office, and Trunks let the elite think while he kept searching for the application. When he finally found the document, read through it, and raised his head to look at the shaii, the man had a most peculiar look on his face. Their eyes met.
“I agree, sir. Three days off.”
Trunks’ mood brightened. “Splendid. Three days it is.” He tore the document in his hands in half and tossed it into the bin next to the desk. He motioned for the shaii to sit down on the chair in front of his desk, pushed a pen towards him, then dug in the drawers for a blank application. Once found, he set it in front of the shaii.
“I will have to talk to the third-class first and convince him to…”
Trunks started as the pen squeaked and broke between Ardo’s fingers. The man’s whole posture suddenly screamed menace. Wide-eyed, Trunks leaned away from him. The inky substance from the pen was dripping onto the blank paper.
“Your Highness, you can’t speak to a third-class,” Ardo growled out, his dark eyes glowing.

Trunks stared at him for a few moments then nodded. “Yes, of course.” It had sounded like an order, and the prince hated it, but he had to comply for both his own and the third-class’s sake. If he didn’t play by the rules, tomorrow morning he might just find the unfortunate third-class dead in a ditch just because he had spoken to him. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. If anyone ever found out that Goten was a third-class…
“Sir?”
Trunks left his chair and went to open the window to let some fresh air in. His step was shaky, and he leaned against the windowsill.
“Sir?” Ardo questioned again, looking genuinely worried.
“I’m fine. Go wash up and bring me your request; I’m afraid I don’t have a spare pen.”
“Yes, sir.”
Taking deep breaths, the prince watched the man scoop up the messy paper and wrap the pen in it. “You can leave your laptop here for now,” Trunks said when he noticed Ardo give it a puzzled look. “Clean up your hands first.”
Ardo crossed the office, opened the door with his elbow, then shut it with the back of his heel.
Trunks closed his eyes. Shaking himself, he opened them again and returned to his desk. After some shuffling about, he found the list with the necessary medical supplies, opened the needed application form on his computer, and started typing in the labels. He was almost done when the screen suddenly blinked, and he nearly bit his tongue in unexpectedness at the shrill sound of a call. He checked the caller’s ID.
This day was never going to end.
“Hi, Mom,” he greeted cheerfully after accepting the call.
At the sight of him, Bulma’s face split into a huge grin. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“I’m good. You?”
“I’m good as well.” Neither dark spots under her son’s eyes nor his tiredness slipped past her concerned eyes. “How is your new position?” she asked. “Getting used to it?”
Instinctively, Trunks wanted to lie and brush her concern off so as not to worry her, which, in turn, made him feel guilty. Besides, she wasn’t stupid, she already knew it all. He released a long, loud sigh. “I’m up to my neck in work,” he admitted. “With the base being rebuilt, I can barely get a breather.” Now, his mother looked even more worried. He shook his head. “It’s going to get better as soon as the construction is over, and the third-classes return to the capital.”
“How long will that take?”
“A couple more weeks. Three at most. Next week lessons restart, so it will become quieter too.”
He didn’t really believe it, and Bulma seemed to be dubious about it as well. She, however, smiled encouragingly and gave an overly excited nod.
“Then my visit in two weeks shouldn’t cause you too much trouble.”
Trunks’ eyebrows rose. “Your visit?” he asked carefully. Then he remembered. “Oh. Yes. My birthday. Why don’t we just forget it this year? It would be inconsiderate to celebrate in such difficult times.”
Bulma smiled sweetly. “Oh no, quite the opposite. The war is over, and we should show the nation an inspiring example of joyful recovery and restoration. Naturally, I would also like to meet that exceptional young man who has captured your attention.”
Trunks bit back a groan. Figures. Steepling his fingers, an unnatural smile to rival his mother’s appearing on his face, he leaned forward in his seat. “Was it Father who told you?”
“Yes. He told me that you chased him down back to the School. Is he an elite or a second-class, Trunks?”
Trunks wondered how secure the line was and decided that it probably wasn’t secure at all. He bit back another groan. “I’m afraid that you will have to come here and find out,” he said with an inclination of his head.
Bulma’s face lit up. “Wonderful. My secretary will contact your shaii to arrange the visit.”
The prince could already see Ardo’s exasperated face at the news of a shitload of additional work. He’d better use those three days off of his wisely.
“So what’s his name?”
She wasn’t going to give up so easily, was she? “Didn’t Father tell you?”
“No, he didn’t. He told me only his surname.”
It was impressive that she hadn’t used the means accessible to her to find out more. Trunks suddenly felt grateful that she wanted to hear it all from him first.
“I will tell you everything once you get here,” he promised her. “Just…” He wondered what exactly he wanted to say. “Just try not to corner him with your questions or some petty tests. He isn’t very tolerant of such behavior,” he warned.
“I would never.”
Trunks rolled his eyes. Yeah, right. She was going to cross-examine Goten to the very bone. Then, he remembered Goten’s adoring eyes glued to his mother on her first visit to the base. Perhaps, the bastard would even enjoy it. Damn him.
“Don’t mention any grandkids to him. I’m serious,” he added when Bulma blinked at him innocently. “Don’t freak him out, please.”
“Don’t worry, it will be alright.”
Trunks had doubts about it being alright. He had to prepare Goten for their meeting, or the third-class might just walk out of the base at the very first trick-question of hers. This was so frustrating… A little exciting too, since he wanted to show off Goten to his mother. Mostly frustrating, though, as he could predict the tension and awkwardness between the two.
“Is he handsome?”
The prince gave this question some thought. Even if currently he found Goten the most handsome man in the universe, he knew perfectly well that his opinion was biased. Goten was probably average. He was neither ugly nor handsome.
“Hmm? A classical Saiyan appearance?” he ventured uncertainly.
“Oh. Really? Is he that ugly?”
“No, Mother. He isn’t ugly. I’m just trying to be objective. I think he’s average.”
“How old is he?”
“We’re only one year apart.”
She looked relieved. “That’s good. How…?”
There was a knock on the door, and the shaii stuck his head in without waiting for permission. Upon hearing the voice from the computer, he shied back and, his face reflecting surprise, closed the door again.
“Is someone there?” Bulma asked her son.
Trunks lowered his eyes back to the screen. “My shaii. We’ve got some business to attend to.”
“Right. Tell him about my upcoming visit too.”
“Yes, I will.”
Both of them were quiet for some time, then Bulma sighed. It was obvious that her curiosity hadn’t been quenched at all. Perhaps the opposite.
“Are you serious about him?”
Trunks’ lips twitched. In a moment, he felt his cheeks heat up. There was no hiding it. Neither there was any point in keeping it from his mother. “I’m in love with the guy,” he said finally. “Have been for a long time. Half a year probably? No. Your first visit here. I was already absurdly obsessed with him back then.”
For several moments, Bulma simply stared at her son’s embarrassed face. At the same time, he appeared to be proud of his infatuation. “Incredible,” she managed. “Really. Now, I’m even more curious about him.”
Trunks smiled. “Right. Let’s stop here for today. I’ve still got a lot of work to do. We can talk plenty once you’re here.”
Bulma returned the smile. “Sure. Have a good day, then.”
“Thanks. I’ll try. Bye, bye.”
After having finished the call, the prince took a few moments to collect himself, then walked to the door to let Ardo in.
“Sorry about that.”
Ardo said nothing, following him into the office. He put his request on Trunks’ desk. While waiting for the prince to sit down and read it, he gathered his laptop off the desk.
“Well, everything seems to be in order,” the prince said after having read it. “You have my permission to leave at…” He looked at his wristband, and his eyebrows rose. It was already seven in the evening. “Huh…starting now?”
Ardo nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“Any idea who can talk to that injured third-class?”
The shaii gave him a look. “Yes. Bardock, sir.”
Trunks gawked at him. It was outrageous that, despite his deep class-biased convictions, the elite suggested a Legendary in his stead. Ardo, however, didn’t look even the least bit ashamed of his suggestion. Uncomfortable, yes, but not ashamed.
“Bardock?” Trunks repeated just to make sure he hadn’t misheard. “But why?” he asked when his shaii nodded.
“He talks to them every day anyway,” the shaii spat, frowning in displeasure.
“Goten does? Really?” It wasn’t a question, and Ardo didn’t take it as one. Trunks thought for a moment then shrugged. “Alright, find Bardock and tell him what needs to be done, then go pack your things. I’ll contact you once everything is ready.”
Ardo nodded. “Yes, sir.” He turned to go.
“Oh. Wait a moment. I nearly forgot. Bulma Briefs Vegeta is planning her visit to our school. She said it’s two weeks from now on. I’ll let you take care of all the arrangements.”
The shaii was glad that he wasn’t facing the prince, as his pleased expression now had changed into an irked frown. “Of course, sir,” he managed to say and left the office to find Bardock.
ooOoOoOoo
He couldn’t remember why he was in Trunks’ office. There must have been a reason for Trunks to have called him here, but… Curious, Goten approached the desk with piles of documents on it. He wondered what kind of things Trunks dealt with daily. The prince always returned late and dead tired to his apartment. Goten started digging in the pile. The first document he retrieved was an invoice for the new aircraft. The third-class’s eyes bulged out at the price. Another document he picked was an application for a shyu’s position on the base. Goten read through it and, unimpressed, lowered it back into the pile. How was Trunks even able to find anything in this mess?
Goten sat down on Trunks’ chair and started sorting the documents. Applications on the left, list of expenses and various invoice on the right, documents requiring his signature in the middle, unsortable stuff on the left corner of the desk. He was almost done when the door opened, and Trunks walked in.
“Hi,” Goten greeted, leaving the chair. He thought that the prince might say something or tease him about having usurped his chair, but Trunks said nothing. Quietly, not even sparing him a look, he crossed the office, rounded the desk and took the chair Goten had been sitting on just seconds ago.
The prince didn’t look well, Goten noted. He was pale with dark circles under his eyes. The third-class thought that, surprisingly, he also looked as if he had lost weight.
“Is everything alright?” Goten asked.
Without saying a word, Trunks stared at the four stacks of papers on his desk.
“What the hell?” he muttered. Visibly confused, he looked around then checked the drawers. Nothing seemed to be missing. Then again, with the mess in them, he might never find out even if it were missing. Perhaps some sensitive information had been leaked.
“Trunks,” Goten called, and then yelped in unexpectedness as the office door suddenly banged open, the upper hinges tearing away from the doorframe.
“You…” Kakarott hissed out, covering the distance between the door and Trunks’ chair in just a few steps.
The prince had hardly had any time to stand up before Kakarott backhanded him in the face. Trunks crashed into the chair behind him and then into the wall, banging his head against it painfully.
“You useless piece of shit!” Kakarott spat at the crouching prince. Shoving the desk out of his way, he approached.
“Dad, stop it!” Goten yelled. His initial shock had finally subsided enough to let him move, and he stepped forward to grab Kakarott by his arm. His hand went right through his father’s limb. Frozen, Goten blinked at his empty hand. “Oooh…” he muttered. “One of those dreams again.”
Kakarott, meanwhile, had grabbed Trunks by the lapels of his jacket and had forcefully dragged the still dazed prince up to his feet. He shook him violently. Trunks’ fingers wrapped around the older man’s wrists, but he didn’t try to pry Kakarott’s hands off himself and didn’t try to resist in any other way. He just let himself be shaken, his body tense and taut, his eyes downcast, acquiescently waiting for more blows to come.
“Hey!” Goten tried again. “Let go of him!” He tried to pry them apart by pushing at their chests, but his hands just kept going through their bodies.
“You got him killed, you useless piece of shit!” Kakarott seethed. “You promised! You promised to protect him with your life! Why is it then that you’re alive and he’s dead? Hah? Why?” Screaming, he shook the prince as if he were a ragdoll in his hands.
Goten watched them, horrified. He was, apparently, dead. Forgetting the scene in front of him for a few moments, he kept inspecting his hands and patting his body down. He felt real and very alive.
“You don’t exist in this universe anymore.”
It was Issoyassin’s voice, and Goten turned to find the old man leaning against the broken doorframe. The third-class nodded both in greeting and acceptation of his words.
“Yes, I figured as much. I’m more interested in who killed me.”
The god sighed and gave Goten what could only be described as a sheepishly regretful look. “The perpetrator is different almost every time.”
“Just in how many universes did I die?”
“Nearly in all of them.”
Silently, Goten stared at the old man. “Well, that’s fucked up. You told me I would live a long, healthy life. Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t,” Issoyassin denied. “As long as you put effort to…”
There was a gargling sound, and Goten turned to his father and Trunks. Kakarott had pushed the prince up to the wall. He had let go of Trunks’ clothes, but his forearm was pressing against the prince’s throat. The pressure was crushing Trunks’ windpipe and he was gasping for air, his eyes red and glassy.
“Will you fucking let go of him?!” Goten yelled at his father. “I will never forgive you if you injure him!”
“He can’t hear you,” Issoyassin repeated patiently.
“Make him hear me, then!” Goten demanded.
The god shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”
One more gurgling gasp and a crash made Goten turn his attention back to the other two men. Kakarott had shoved the prince against the wall one more time and let go of him, the prince dropping onto the floor. On all fours, Trunks was coughing, trying to get some air flowing through his hurting throat. Goten kneeled next to him, tried to pat his back, but his hand went right through again and he sighed regretfully.
“No, no, no…” he said suddenly when he realized that Trunks’ desperate wheezes had been interrupted by anguished sobs. Goten’s head whipped around to glare at his father. “Look what you…” His voice trailed off at the sight of his father hunched under the windowsill with tears streaming down his face. Goten turned to Issoyassin. “Stop this!” he demanded. “Stop it! Stop it all!”
“I ca-”
The back of Goten’s head banged against the armrest painfully and, instinctively, he moved away from the source of pain. That made him roll out of the sofa and crash onto the floor with a startled cry. Utterly confused, he raised his head to stare at yet another source of the noise, which appeared to be a Royal Guard in the middle of the prince’s living room.
“Sir?”
Goten kept staring at him, then hiccupped loudly, and, finally, seemed to register the question. At the same time, he became aware of his wet face. Touching the mix of snot and tears on his skin, he wondered what had happened.
“Sir?” the guard repeated even though now he was certain that it had only been a nightmare and not any physical danger that had made the youngster to cry out.
Goten stood up slowly “I’m sorry. It was just a dream. I think I…” He looked around. “I think I fell from the sofa.”
“Seems like it, Sir. Goodnight.”
The door clicked softly behind the guard’s back, and the third-class went to the bedroom to find a tissue and clean his face. After having gotten himself in order, he checked the scouter the prince had left on the bedside cabinet. When Goten had finally threatened the injured third-class into travelling to the capital with an elite shaii, it had already been eight in the evening. It was ten in the evening now, and Trunks still hadn’t returned from work. He had fallen asleep while waiting for him.
With a sigh, still wearing his clothes, Goten climbed into the bed and lay down. A moment later, he fell asleep again.
The third-class woke up to the movement next to him. Disoriented, he stared at the ceiling.
“What time is it?” he grunted out while rubbing at his face.
“It’s eleven,” Trunks muttered from under the third-class’s armpit. He inhaled loudly.
“What the hell are you doing?” Goten wondered, turning his head to stare at the back of the purple head in his armpit.
Trunks raised his head to look at him. “You smell a bit different than others.” The third-class seemed to be skeptical, and the prince gave him a sheepish look. “I haven’t actually had many opportunities to…do this.”
“To smell people?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Goten said nothing, watching Trunks get more comfortable next to him. Feeling sleepy and lazy, he just lay there, sprawled on the bed, allowing the prince to smell him all over and didn’t even protest when he was asked to take his shirt off. It felt a little strange to feel the other male’s warm breath and nose ghosting against his skin. His arms, chest, and neck, everything seemed to be catalogued with alternating long and short sniffs.
“If you keep doing this, you’ll end up with a cock up your ass,” Goten warned.
Trunks laughed against the third-class’s skin. “Sounds very tempting, but I’m dead-tired. Spare me.”
“Stop doing it, then,” Goten said, pushing the other man’s head away from his neck. He kept pushing it away from himself until he made Trunks cease what he was doing and lay down next to him.
“Didn’t anyone tell you that you smell somehow…different?” Trunks tried again.
Goten let out a disinterested yawn, his right hand diving into the loosely tied purple hair. As far as he knew, his scent was absolutely ordinary. “All of us smell different,” he said.
“Ugh. That’s not what I mean. I mean, I don’t normally smell anything at all.”
The third-class was growing confused. “Smell what?”
“People’s scents. I can barely smell them. You say that all of us smell different, but I can’t tell people apart by their scents. I have a very basic understanding of them. And by “basic” I mean I can only tell males and females apart, whether the person is sick or healthy, young or old. The rest is just… Well, it either stinks or smells good or neutral.”
“Huh.” Goten blinked at the ceiling, wondering what it must feel like. He didn’t really understand it, but the prince’s confession had just confirmed his suspicions about the other male’s severe lack of scenting ability. “Hmm… Then… Can you at least differentiate between aggression and frustration?”
“Eh?”
“Well, imagine two people shouting. One is upset, the other is about to attack you. It’s pretty similar sometimes.”
“Oh. Yes, I can’t tell those apart at all. It’s all about body language and facial expressions for me.”
“Hmm… I see. So, if I pretended to be angry, you wouldn’t be able to tell that it’s just an act? Even if you stood not even a meter away from me?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. With you, I sometimes can. Perhaps not to tell aggression and frustration apart, but I can recognize other things. It probably takes me much more time than for an average Saiyan, but it works sometimes. I can’t do that with other people at all. Their scents tell me absolutely nothing.”
“Interesting.” Goten patted Trunks on his head. Then he continued petting the silky hair that had such a different texture from a Saiyan’s. The prince leaned into his touch, and he smiled. “I wish I could tell you that this is because we have an incredible bond and the deepest connection and the best chemistry ever, but it’s probably just because my blood is mixed. Nobody else, however, has ever mentioned anything unusual about my scent. I think other Saiyans find it as ordinary as it gets.”
“Yes, my father mentioned that.”
“Huh? About my scent?”
“No, Goten. About you being a different species.”
“Ah. I’m not really a different species. Just a tiny bit, I suppose. Our blood has watered down so much that…” Yawning, Goten just left it at that.
“But it still matters a great deal,” Trunks said solemnly. “Apparently, there’s some kind of an agreement between our Houses not to interfere with each other. Neither you nor your father are our subjects. We kind of… Ugh. You know, just several days ago I had a conversation with my father where he suggested I pursue you. I think he expects to strengthen our relations and make use of you in some uncanny way.”
Goten laughed. Trunks, who had expected annoyance, anger, indignation, anything but laughter, gave him a surprised look. Goten grinned at his confusion. “Imagine that,” he chuckled. “My father said something along the lines as well. Something about it being a good way to forge the ties between the Houses.”
Trunks grunted in disbelief. And to think that he had felt uncomfortable to mention this to Goten. “Why don’t they forge those ties themselves?” he spat.
“You reckon they would? If we ever fall out with each other? Perhaps they’d shack up together?”
“You’ve got the craziest ideas sometimes. Your father is about to have a child, and mine is still obsessed with my mother. No way in hell.”
“Hmm…”
There was a silent spell while they lazily enjoyed each other’s closeness, then Trunks put his chin on the third-class’s chest and his blue eyes turned serious. “Does anyone bother you? I mean the elites. Heard any remarks or received threats?”
The question sobered Goten up. “No, not really. But some are giving me funny looks.” He sighed. “There’s no way we can keep this a secret. The word has already spread about me spending time with you in your apartment. We can be discreet at best, but it’s clear that it’s not going to cut it. I don’t really know what to do about it before it gets completely out of hand. And, just a few hours ago, I had one of those visions again where I was already dead.”
“Shit.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
Then, the prince gave him a demanding look. “There’s a very obvious solution to that, and you know it.”
Goten frowned at him. “I don’t want everybody pointing fingers at me and whispering behind my back.”
“They are already doing that,” Trunks pointed out. “For one reason or another. And they will keep doing that no matter what. It makes much more sense for them to keep doing that without plotting to kill you.”
“And still I don’t…”
Trunks huffed in frustration. “Listen, you don’t have to tell anyone or be obvious about it. You just have to let them presume.”
Now, Goten looked lost. “Presume? Presume what?”
“Presume that you’re a Legendary.”
“Huh?”
“As long as there are rumors and suspicions that you might be and perhaps are one of the Legendaries, it will create a security buffer for you. I mean, that would make us, more or less, equal in everyone’s eyes, even without you either confirming or denying who you are. If you don’t want to make a clear stance, you don’t even have to. Just make them believe in the possibility. Everybody will just soon convince themselves and will side with you, and, in turn, us. We just need a way to indirectly confirm the rumor about you being one of the Legendaries.”
Silently, Goten mulled over it. There were already rumors flying about him being a Legendary. There were also several people who knew for sure. But he had actually been doing the opposite – trying to deny the suspicions.
“Don’t be so stubborn about it,” Trunks tried again. “It’s probably the only way.”
Goten closed his eyes. “You’ll spread the word even if I oppose it, right?”
“Yes,” Trunks confirmed without hesitation. “In fact, I have already sent the videos of you and your father fighting Cooler and Frieza to my personnel. Letting them get familiar with the faces of the Legendaries.”
“You didn’t…”
“Yes, I did. After Ardo came to me this evening and showed the video, asking me how he was supposed to treat you, I decided that it would be a good idea to share the video with other officers.”
Goten found that he wasn’t able to get angry with his lover. Trunks could be stubborn to a fault when it concerned him, and that was one of the things that he liked about the man. Besides, it was, indeed, the only way to avoid the imminent death while maintaining this relationship. He sighed. “Fine.”
The blue gaze turned confused. “That’s it?” the prince asked carefully. “You gave in so easily? No. You’re planning something…”
“No, Trunks, I’m not. I don’t like the idea, but after having that dream… I’m rather fond of my life.” He could see relief on the prince’s face. “Have you planned it out already?”
“More or less. Firstly, we’ll have a spar with a few “accidental” spectators. Secondly, that video has to be spread around even further. Thirdly, I’ll talk to Ardo and Tayera to make sure they watch your back and spread the rumor amongst the officers.”
Goten was impressed. “This actually sounds like a solid plan already.”
“Thanks.”
“So when do we spar? And where? The training hall hasn’t even been finished yet.”
“It’s going to be completed in two days. For now, we keep on spreading the news of you perhaps being a Legendary. People will become curious, and then we’ll also feed them our legendary spar.”
Goten tugged at the lavender hair reproachfully to show his disapproval of the way he had intentionally used “legendary”. Trunks chuckled. He was looking forward to their spar. The opportunity to see Goten turn into that mysterious being excited him. His hand slid over the third-class’s stomach and into his trousers to grasp the base of his cock. Goten gave him a look.
“I thought you said you were tired?”
“Does it get bigger too when you change?”
The third-class blinked at him. “Uh. I’ve got no idea. I never checked.”
Trunks was incredulous. “Seriously? That would be the first thing I’d check. Actually, anyone would check.”
Goten chuckled. “I think I had more important things to think about.”
“What could be more important than the size of one’s dick? Does your pubic hair turn blond as well?”
Laughing, the third-class pushed Trunks’ hand off himself. “I suppose we’ll have to find out one of these days.”
“It would be interesting to do it while you’re in that form.”
“No.”
Goten’s voice was firm and strict, and Trunks gave him a surprised look. “And why not?”
The third-class wondered if Trunks really wanted to risk it, or he just lacked the basic knowledge. “Because if one of us loses control and powers down or powers up too much, the other will get hurt or even die. It’s all fun and games until one’s dick gets ripped off.”
The prince seemed to be stunned for a moment. “Hnn. Does it really happen?”
Goten nodded. “I’ve heard a few stories. Sometimes people do it for the thrill, but it’s dangerous. Basically, it’s like a spar. If the power levels are too different, one would definitely get hurt. Didn’t anyone tell you? I thought it was common knowledge.”
Trunks felt his cheeks heat up. “First time I’ve heard of it. But yes, makes sense when you say it.”
“So… You’d like it to be bigger?” Goten asked.
The prince pursed his lips at the question. He liked Goten’s cock. The shape and size were nice and felt good. In fact, the two of them were of about the same size. He probably wouldn’t mind it to be bigger, but it was just fine as it was. Having slept with four men in his life, he didn’t have much material to work with. Yet, he knew for a fact that bigger didn’t necessarily mean better.
“It’s not really about the size,” he said finally. “For me, it’s always about the way I feel with the other person. I mean, yeah, it’s nice to look at a big dick, but what’s the point of it if I can’t get into it at all or he’s just got no idea what to do with it and it’s more painful than pleasant?”
“Sounds like some bitter experience.”
“Yeah, it didn’t go well at all. We met a total of three times and never saw each other again. It just didn’t work.”
“Hmm…” Goten drawled, wondering. He didn’t have anything to compare this to, as he had always enjoyed sex, be it with Reyn or Trunks. True, his first time had been very chaotic and rather painful at first, but that had been because he had no idea what to expect and had been anxious.
“You’re thinking about him now, aren’t you?”
“Um… Yeah…” Goten admitted guiltily and noted how the prince’s eyes darkened with jealousy. “It’s history,” he told Trunks, leaning in to kiss him. Trunks’ mouth opened for him, and the prince didn’t let go of him anymore.
“You sure?” Goten breathed against his mouth when the prince’s hands went for his cock again. “You seem really tired.”
Trunks grabbed the third-class’s hand and, turning it, pressed the palm against his bulging trousers. “Does it feel tired to you?”
“No, it doesn’t. Not at all,” Goten muttered, kneading the stiff lump with his hand through the fabric. “Perky as a desert lizard.” He swallowed the prince’s moan and got to his knees. They got out of their clothes and entangled each other in their arms.
Trunks grunted when Goten’s weight pressed him into the bed. The sound of Goten’s ragged breath right in his ear was wringing shivers from him. Goten wasn’t certain whether anal sex was a good idea at the moment, but as soon as he tentatively probed the prince between his legs, they immediately spread apart for him, giving him access. Not hesitating anymore, Goten retrieved the lube and a condom from the nearby cabinet. In a few moments, he was already watching his fingers disappear into Trunks’ ass. He crooked his fingers to rub over the prostate, making Trunks inhale sharply and his cock twitch and jerk upwards. Goten kept up the pleasurable onslaught until he saw precome leaking from the slit.
Dazed, his body tingling with pleasure and anticipation, Trunks watched Goten put the condom on. His breath hitched when Goten grabbed him by his hips and pulled him up so that his lower back rested on the third-class’s lap. Then his cock entered him, and Trunks had to remember to breathe.
They got into a comfortable rhythm quickly, Goten stroking Trunks in time with his thrusts. He loved the look of pure pleasure on the other man’s face and how Trunks’ thighs kept trying to spread apart even more in order to welcome more of his dick.
Panting, Trunks stared at the ceiling, then his eyes slid down to Goten’s chest. Feeling himself twitch and tighten at the sight, he closed his eyes without even trying to suppress his moans. The cock moving in his ass felt wonderful and he couldn’t get enough of it. He moaned again at a well-placed jab that hit his prostate just right.
“Oh gods,” he grunted when his body seized up in pleasure. “Mhah! Hah!”
“You okay?”
“Yes! Don’t stop! Harder!”
“If I do this any harder…”
Apparently, he could since just a moment later, the prince came all over his chest and stomach. Gasping for breath, he lay there while Goten finished as well. He could vaguely remember that just a few seconds ago he had shouted Goten’s name as he came. He had also told the man he loved him. Now he was too embarrassed to even look at Goten. The third-class had fucked him silly.
TBC
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