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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
- 74
- 75
- 76
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 75
Pulling his trousers on, Goten watched Trunks stumble into the bathroom. The prince seemed to be only half-awake. Unlike other Saiyans of their age, he shaved every morning, and now the third-class was worried that he would accidentally cut himself. They shouldn’t have had sex last night after all. No matter how delightful Trunks’ silly jealousy bouts were, he had been exhausted.
Goten felt his cheeks warm up at yesterday’s memory of Trunks’ unconscious love confession. He couldn’t help grinning. Which part of it was “slowing down”? If anything, Trunks was going at full speed now. Making a mental promise to drag him out of the office to have an early night’s sleep, Goten went to the corridor.
The third-class was putting his boots on when he heard a crash and a yell in the bathroom. The horrendous noise had startled him for a second, but then he shot up, tossing his boots away and running towards the bathroom. At the same time, he heard the door behind him open and the bodyguard demand to know what was going on, but the third-class was already barreling into the bathroom.
“Ehhm?” he gasped out at the sight of a naked Trunks kneeling on the bathroom floor, pressing his fingers against his bleeding nose. He was dripping wet, his damp, dark purple hair plastered all over his face and the back of his neck. Half of the porcelain sink was missing, its white, sharp chunks scattered around the prince. Blood was dripping on the tiles in large, heavy drops.
“I slipped,” Trunks gargled out the obvious. He was still a little dazed, but his eyes caught movement behind Goten’s back and set on one of his bodyguard’s worried face.
“Did it break?” Goten asked, leaning in closer, trying to inspect his nose through the barrier of protective fingers. Trunks didn’t let him touch his face, but Goten could clearly see a red bump, with a few scratches on his lower forehead as well.
“I don’t know,” Trunks muttered, gingerly touching the base of his nose. “Tch!” he grunted as pain shot up his face.
Goten was about to tell him to go and see a doctor but then remembered that they had none. The bodyguard was still here and, his discomfort rising, Goten threw a bathrobe over Trunks’ bare back. He had to go already, but he didn’t want to leave the prince in such a vulnerable position.
“Let’s get you out of the bathroom first,” he said, grabbing a towel from the rack and pushing it into Trunks’ hands. He helped him to his feet, and the prince, with the towel pressed against his face, almost blindly, followed Goten into the bedroom.
“Lay down for a bit. Why don’t you take a day off?”
Under the towel, Trunks frowned at the suggestion. “I’ve got work to do.”
Goten rolled his eyes. “Why is that some people believe that a few days without them at work would result in the end of the world? Believe me, it won’t. It’s just a faulty conviction of self-important control-freaks.”
“Am I a self-important control-freak now?”
Goten gave him an innocent look. “And just when weren’t you?”
“Fair enough,” Trunks mumbled into the towel. He suddenly thought that if his nose was really broken, it might just be him who would accompany that third-class to the capital. Then he reconsidered the dangerous idea and thought that one of the officers on the base might just be good enough to set his nose back into place. One of his bodyguards might do as well.
“Your Highness? Sir? What’s happening?”
All three of them started and turned to the second guard, who had just entered the bedroom. Goten grabbed Trunks’ wrist to check his watch. Yep, Airan was right on time for the change of the watch, which meant, in turn, that he was already inexcusably late for his kitchen duty.
Leaving the prince to explain his slippery bathroom floor misadventure to Airan, he brushed past the bodyguards and into the corridor, where he started putting his boots on. He was done at about the same time as Airan and Maraka left the bedroom. Since he was blocking the door, the bodyguards stopped to wait for him to leave first. It was then that Goten sensed an aura of angry disdain wafting from Airan. Surprised, and already cautious, he looked at the guard. The man even looked hostile. Goten wondered about the unusual smell. He had actually believed that Airan had liked him. At least, he had been acting quite friendly towards him before. Then it dawned on Goten.
“Wow. No, no, no,” the third-class said raising his hands in front of Airan’s face. “I didn’t hit him. He really slipped in the bathroom. Seriously?” Cursing under his breath, he turned to the other guard. “Tell him that I had nothing to do with it!” He shook his head. “Fuck it! Unbelievable! And I’m fucking late already! Why do I even have to…? Gah!”
Cursing under his breath, his face red in indignation, Goten shot out of the door.
ooOoOoOoo
There was something up in the air. Ardema took a look around but wasn’t able to identify what it was exactly. Yet, there was something unusual about the way the savars were chatting away, the mood incredibly light and lazy. There was also this specific, sweet scent lingering around. What was that scent?
“Is something wrong?” Kanua asked as his lover just stood there, in the middle of the newly laid out road, sniffing at the air.
“I wonder…” Ardema muttered. “I think I smell chocolate.”
The second-class inhaled to check. He shrugged in a moment. “I don’t know what chocolate smells like.”
The elite turned to him. “Seriously? You’ve never tried it?”
“It’s something from Earth, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s sweet and rich in calories. It’s really tasty, but not good for one’s health in large quantities. Like all things.”
Trying to find out where the smell was coming from, Ardema raised his nose into the air again. He turned towards the canteen. Figures. The shaii had left the base only a few hours ago, and the chocolate had already resurfaced. Bardock was shameless. It was a pity that he and Kanua had gotten up so late in the day – it would have been interesting to catch Goten arranging the breakfast. Not that he would have punished the kid, it would have just been entertaining to watch him try and come up with one more ingenious lie.
The canteen was empty except for a few cooks and Goten’s friend at the back. Ardema walked over to the counter, beckoned Kyon over, and demanded chocolate.
“Uh,” Kyon muttered, blinking at the lecturer in ki attacks. “Chocolate, sir? What chocolate? We have pancakes with bacon and onions today.”
The elite’s face turned cold and his dark eyes narrowed at Kyon. Not only was the second-class lying to an elite and his superior officer, but he was also doing so in front of his lover. Intolerable.
“Chocolate. Now. Or gods help you.”
There wasn’t going to be a second warning, that much was clear for Kyon. Ardema Tayera was quite easy going for an elite, until you pissed him off. He had seen Ardema in action, and the result hadn’t been pretty.
“Yes, sir. A jar of chocolate coming right up,” Kyon said, squeezing out a smile before disappearing into the kitchens. He returned shortly with a jar of chocolate and put it on the counter in front of Ardema, then retrieved two spoons from the rack. “Enjoy yourselves, sirs.”
“We’ll also take those pancakes with bacon and whatever,” Kanua said, reaching out for the jar and inspecting it with interest.
“Of course, sir.”
While Kyon bustled about, Kanua unscrewed the cap and dipped a spoon inside to scoop up some of the sticky, brown mass. “Looks like minced shit,” he said upon closer inspection. He lifted the spoon to his nose and sniffed. “Smells really nice, though,” he said, surprised.
Grinning, the elite leaned against the counter to watch his lover. “Try it.”
The second-class gave the spoon a mistrustful lick. “Oh,” he said a few moments later when his taste buds had deciphered the brown paste. He swallowed and smacked his lips when the aftertaste made him crave more of the sweet, brown stuff. “Tastes like something addictive. You sure it’s not drugs or something like that?”
Ardema chuckled. “Would you stop eating it if I said it was?”
Kanua scooped up more of the chocolate and stuffed the spoon into his mouth. “Nope,” he mouthed around it, grinning, and Ardema suddenly wished they could spend the entire day fucking in his brand new apartment. Screw his newly arranged duties!
“My, my...” Leering, the second-class waved the spoon in the air reproachfully. “What a lecherous look you have on your face! And what might you be thinking about?”
“I’m regretting that we didn’t go for one more round.”
Kanua winked at him. “Don’t worry, we will.”
“Sir?”
Both of them turned to see Goten standing a few feet away from Ardema. The savar obviously hadn’t intended to listen in and now was grinning sheepishly.
Ardema huffed in annoyance; couldn’t he at least flirt in peace? “What is it this time, Bardock?”
“Sir, I think our taisa has broken his nose. Could sir take a look at it? Just to make sure everything’s alright?”
The elite gave Goten a look. “You think? And how did it happen?”
“Well, it does seem to be broken, sir. He…” Goten hesitated for a moment. “Well, he slipped in the bathroom, sir. It would be a good idea to send someone in to sweep up the shards and replace the bathroom sink too.”
“Right.”
With an offhand nod, Ardema turned away to grab the plates that Kyon had just set up on the counter. Goten followed the two officers to the table where they sat down to have their breakfast.
“Is there something else?” the elite wondered after having noticed that Goten was still there.
Uncomfortable, Goten cleared his throat. “Err… You see, some might think that it was me who… I’d appreciate it if you…”
Chewing, his face reflecting utter bafflement, the lecturer in ki attacks stared at him. “What is it? Spit it out already,” he grunted impatiently.
“People might think that it was me who hit him. It wasn’t me, sir. He really slipped. Was half-asleep and whacked his head right into the sink.”
Ardema lowered the fork back to his plate. Kanua was staring at Goten as well. Then, the two officers met each other’s eyes. Ardema grunted in disbelief while Kanua burst out laughing.
The lecturer in ki attacks cleared his throat. “The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind,” he said over his lover’s laughter. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t occur to others either. Now, go back to your duties.”
The indignant discomfort on Goten’s face was replaced by gratitude. “Thank you very much, sir!”
Kanua watched Goten’s back disappear in the doorway then he couldn’t help laughing again. “Does he really think that anyone would believe that he assaulted the prince? This scrawny second-class kid?”
Ardema’s eyebrows arched. “That scrawny second-class kid is one of the Legendaries,” he informed Kanua. “He and the prince have been shacking up in his new apartment for over a week now. The kid’s right to worry - shit’s about to go down. You and I, we gotta watch his back.” He would have enjoyed the look of utter astonishment on his lover’s face if not for the seriousness of the matter.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me all this yesterday?” Kanua spat at him angrily once his brain had digested the information.
“What? Would have asked him for an autograph?”
“Fuck you. I wouldn’t have laughed in his face like a fucking idiot.”
“Well, yesterday we were too busy fucking. I planned to show you the video today with him fighting King Cooler. The prince sent it to the entire personnel on the base.”
“I’ve seen it,” Kanua said. “Who hasn’t? I did think that they looked somewhat familiar. Was it his brother or his father?”
“He doesn’t have a brother.”
“Oh.”
ooOoOoOoo
Trunks woke up to someone knocking on the door. He croaked out permission to enter and sat up in the bed. His face hurt, and he didn’t dare touch it. From the look on Ardema’s face, it didn’t look too good either. The elite crossed the room, and the prince motioned for him to sit on the chair. With Ardo gone to the capital, it was Ardema Tayera who had taken over his responsibilities on the base.
“Well?” the prince prompted.
“I’m not here on business, sir,” Ardema said. He ignored the chair and walked over to the bed. He could smell Bardock all over the place; the boy had gotten lucky with the prince last night. Yet, the prince’s own scent was ambiguous, hardly identifiable as usual. Ardema leaned down so that he was face to face with the prince. “I’m used to dealing with this type of injury.”
Trunks blinked at him. He didn’t even need to ask to know that it was Goten who had sent Ardema here. “Alright. My bodyguard set it back, but it won’t hurt to have one more opinion.”
“It just might, sir,” the elite said, pressing his fingers over the bridge of the prince’s nose, which made him grunt in pain. “It’s no good,” he gave his verdict after having traced the bone outline with his fingers.
Trunks was about to ask if he was sure, but swallowed his words. Of course, the man was sure. “Okay,” he muttered, leaning against the headboard, resting the back of his head against the wall. He braced himself against the inevitable pain. He still almost blacked out when his nose was tugged at and then pressed down again. While the lecturer in ki attacks tenderly checked whether the bone now was properly in place, he got his bearings back.
“All set, sir,” the elite said, retracting his hand. He watched the dazed prince’s blinking blue eyes, wet with tears of pain. Interested, he observed the night’s stubble on the prince’s face. Facial hair was something only elder Saiyans grew. So unusual.
He wondered whether the bodyguards really had no experience with injuries like this or had just been afraid to hurt the prince. It was probably the latter. Idiots.
After having made sure that he had done a good job, Ardema was about to leave when his eye caught a chocolate jar on the bedside cabinet.
He chuckled. “A get-well present from Goten?”
Trunks followed his gaze and couldn’t help chuckling either. Then, he thought that he shouldn’t make it so obvious about it being from Goten, but by the time he opened his mouth, Ardema had already left the bedroom. Well, with Ardo away from the base, there was a big chance that the entire base was getting chocolate for dessert today.
Trunks shifted to lay down in the bed again. The pain in his nose was subsiding, but it still hurt like a bitch. He hoped that it would heal by the time his mother arrived. Gods only knew what she would think at the sight of his blue and black face. Probably that the savars gang up and beat him in his office every night. Or even worse, that it was Goten who had beaten him up.
“Ah, shit,” he muttered suddenly, realizing that many on the base were going to think exactly that. “Oh fuck,” he repeated. “Bloody hell.” He rolled out of the bed and his eyes squeezed shut at the pang of pain in his face. He staggered out of the bedroom, through the living-room, and opened the door.
“Find Tayera,” he told Airan.
The guard blinked at him. “He left just a second ago, sir.”
“Yes, I know,” the prince told him impatiently. “Get him back.”
Airan saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Ardema returned to the prince’s apartment a few minutes later. He stopped in the doorway of the bedroom and looked at the prince questioningly.
“Sir?”
Trunks sat up in the bed again and motioned for him to sit down on the same chair he had refused to take before.
“There’s something I want to discuss with you.”
Ardema’s brow rose, and he took the proffered seat. “Yes?”
“Originally, I wanted to talk to both of you at once. I mean, you and Ardo, but…” Suddenly, an idea came to Trunks. “Listen, how would you actually feel about becoming a shyu?”
The elite seemed to be stunned for a moment. Then, he shook his head. “Thank you for your trust, sir, but I have to refuse.”
“But why?”
Ardema gave him a look. What kind of stupid question was this?
“Mainly, it’s because my lover is a second-class, sir. I’d not want to endanger him. People are pretty tolerant of us, but me getting a higher post might cause a negative reaction among other elites, and they might take it out on him.”
Trunks felt his face heat up, and his nose started hurting even more.
“Oh yes, he’s returned, hasn’t he?” he muttered.
“Yes, sir. Yesterday.”
Ardema watched the prince for a few moments, noting how uncomfortable he was. Just like Bardock about twenty minutes ago. The elite had a hunch as to why the prince wanted him here as he had seen the video in the morning, but the man was being weird about it.
“Sir, it is vital to officially acknowledge Goten Bardock as a Legendary. And the sooner, the better. People are talking about your supposedly poor choice in bedpartners, and those are very dangerous talks.”
Trunks cursed softly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to discuss with you and Ardo. There are a few things I want you to do.”
“I’m all ears, sir.”
ooOoOoOoo
Their duties were over for today, Ardema having sent everyone back to their barracks to rest. Kyon went to the showers first, while Ranvera and Goten rushed to the canteen at once. Kyon had showered and changed and was about to go to the canteen as well when he nearly collided with Ranvera in the doorway. Instead of going out, Kyon stepped back into the room and closed the door while the other second-class went straight for the wardrobe.
Kyon thought that he was a big-ass hypocrite. Now, while staring at Ranvera’s back, he wished he could punch the asshole – just as he had told Goten – hard enough to dislocate his jaw or knock a tooth or two out. But he wasn’t able to do that because there was, according to Ranvera, no reason for that.
“You fucked Ariva.”
Ranvera raised his head to stare at the shelf in front of him. In a second, he lowered his head again and continued to search for a pair of hole-free underwear on the lower shelves. He shrugged. This was becoming more and more annoying.
“Yeah. And I’m about to go and fuck him again. Listen, I told you before and I’m telling you again – we are not in any exclusive relationship. Don’t like it – it’s your personal problem.”
“Right.”
Kyon continued to stare at Ranvera’s ass for a few more moments, then made his decision. Or, perhaps, it had already been made a few weeks ago, only that he had just now accepted the fact that there was really no other way to end this.
“I’ll ask to change rooms. You can shack up with Ariva if you wish.”
Ranvera turned to him. “Don’t give me this shit. You…” He fell silent when he realized that this wasn’t a usual bout of jealousy and that Kyon was serious. “Uhm… There’s no need for that.”
“There is,” Kyon said. “I need some time away from you and your conquests.”
Ranvera pursed his lips. He wasn’t certain he understood Kyon, but he didn’t like how the situation made him feel. He had kept telling Kyon that he didn’t want anything serious between them, and it still somehow backfired.
“What about Goten?”
Kyon shrugged. “And what about him? He basically doesn’t live here anymore anyway. Won’t make much difference to him.”
Ranvera was sure that it would. If Goten had to pick between the two of them, it would always be Kyon, and it annoyed him, Goten’s partiality.
“Can’t we just leave it as it is?” Ranvera wondered.
Kyon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that you could, but I can’t. It’s not easy for me to see you now, it won’t be easy to see you later either.”
“What? You won’t talk to me anymore or something? Pretend you don’t know me and walk around me in circles? This is just stupid! Now you’re treating me as if I were some rotting animal!”
Kyon sighed. Just as he had thought. Ranvera lacked the basic understanding of the concept “I don’t want to see you for a while because you’ve caused me a lot of pain, asshole”.
“Just leave me alone for now, alright? It’s not like it will be difficult with so many new savars to fuck around.”
Ranvera gave him a reproachful look, but thought that it was, after all, a good idea to spend some time separately; Kyon would just keep complaining and bugging him.
Both of them turned to the door when Goten entered the room.
“Mmm?” the third-class hummed questioningly as the tense atmosphere hit him. He closed the door slowly. Goten expected them to pretend that nothing had happened again and just brush him off when Kyon inhaled sharply and gave him an uncomfortable look.
“I’m moving out.”
“Moving out to where?” Goten asked, alarmed.
“To another room.”
“Oh.” Relieved, the third-class glanced at Ranvera. “And why isn’t it the other way round? Why is it you who has to move out?”
Ranvera glared at him. “Because it’s him with a problem!” he snapped.
“Because it’s my decision,” Kyon said at the same time.
Goten shrugged uncertainly. “Want me to move in with you?” he offered.
Kyon gave this some thought. “Up to you,” he said finally. “You’re rarely here anyway.”
That was true, but it wasn’t like he lived with the prince either, and, right now, Kyon could use some company.
“You’ll move in to one of the newly built barracks, won’t you?”
“I certainly hope so.”
The idea appealed to Goten.
ooOoOoOoo
He had a dream where his mother made Goten dance a waltz. Smiling happily, the two of them circled in the large 19th century ballroom. People standing at the walls of the dim, candle-lit ballroom kept applauding the pair’s extravagant dance. His mother’s long, sky-blue dress shimmered and fluttered while they were spinning. Goten was wearing a black suit and, for some unfathomable reason, the same cylinder hat Abraham Lincoln had been wearing when he was shot.
Trunks woke up when the music in the ballroom stopped. Or, perhaps, it stopped because he woke up. The dream baffled and, at the same time, amused him. Goten dancing a waltz? He wondered if Goten had ever listened to classical music. No, scratch that, he probably didn’t even have any idea what classical music was. Just like the majority of other Saiyans’, Goten’s cultural background consisted of watching pornography and reading military literature. And that was perfectly fine with Trunks. Yet, he had a feeling that his mother might be not too happy with Goten’s education. He knew that it was stupid to worry about it, but he wanted two people he loved to get along. They were so different, though.
He had yet to tell Goten about his mother’s incoming visit.
ooOoOoOoo
When Goten returned to Trunks’ apartment, he found the man asleep in the bedroom, just as he had left him in the morning. Yet he could see that the prince had put on a light shirt, which was visible from under the light cover. There was also a piece of cloth partly covering his face. It was completely dry, so Goten took it to run it under some cool water. Trunks’ nose and the skin around it were a little swollen and covered in all possible shades of blue and black. The third-class clicked his tongue in sympathy.
The sink in the bathroom had already been replaced, and there was no sight of blood or sharp shards on the tiled floor. In fact, Goten, and almost the entire base, had seen a few third-classes carry the broken sink to the far end of the base and toss it on top of the rubbish pile there. He had also heard Ardema telling a story of the overworked taisa smashing his head into the sink. The story had earned a few suppressed sniggers and giggles here and there, and successfully cleared suspicions of possible “domestic violence”.
“Thrhm!”
“It’s just me,” Goten calmed Trunks down when he woke up with a start as a cold, wet rag was lowered onto his face. “To be honest, your face looks as if someone smashed it with a brick.”
“Yeah, only that it was a sink.”
Goten offered him a sympathetic look. “Did you, at least, have some rest?”
“A little.”
Pressing the wet rag to his face, Trunks sat up in the bed, propped his pillow against the headboard, and leaned against it. He reclined his head a little so that the rag didn’t slip off his face.
“Thanks for the chocolate.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Did you have any problems because of it? Ardema saw the jar and knew immediately that it was from you.”
“No problems at all. I saw him and Kanua have a taste as well. Ardema’s really cool.” Goten grunted in disbelief as, even under the rag, he could see the prince try very hard not to frown. “Really? You’re still jealous of him? Believe me, he doesn’t have eyes for anyone else but Kanua. It’s always been like that between them as far as I can remember. They are obsessed with each other.”
“Right,” Trunks muttered. Incredibly, it even hurt to blush. Irritated, he glared at the ceiling. “And that still doesn’t mean that he isn’t thinking about fucking you.”
Goten laughed. He wasn’t certain why exactly Trunks was so bent on the idea that Ardema had the hots for him, but the prince’s jealousy was rather pleasant.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“Yes, Airan brought me my meals. I can tell you that it fucking hurts to eat even when I try to move just my lower jaw. I tried to sleep later, but the damn third-classes were so noisy while fixing the sink that…”
“Alright. And has anything good happened today at all?
From under the rag, Trunks glared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Is a blowjob on your ‘good things’ list?”
That shut the prince up. “Uh,” he said in a moment. “I’d say it’s on my ‘awesome things’ list.”
The third-class grinned. “Splendid. I’ll just warn you that I’m not a professional.”
“I’d be rather pissed off if you were,” Trunks informed, removing the damp cloth from his face. There was no way he was going to let it obstruct this much promising view.
Goten pulled the cover off the prince and let it pool on the other side of the bed. He sat down next to Trunks, then thought better of it and stood up again to pull his trousers off. Besides his shirt, Trunks was wearing only underwear. That had to go, and Trunks was only too eager to help Goten with that. He was already partially hard. Goten got onto his knees and in between the other man’s thighs. The cock in front of his face swelled in anticipation. He gave it a gentle tug with his hand before taking the head into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the tip.
Trunks let out something between a moan and a growl. Every time his face scrunched up in pleasure, his nose hurt. With a slightly open mouth to ease the tension in his face, he watched the third-class’s head moving between his thighs. It felt wonderful. Goten licked and sucked and fondled his balls. Goten’s other hand soon went south in between his own legs to jerk himself off, and it fueled Trunks’ lust even more. He had imagined this a few times, Goten sucking him off, but it had felt rather surreal. When faced with the real thing, even with his face hurting like a bitch, he couldn’t help but try and convince himself to savor every moment of this. He wanted to burn Goten’s head between his legs and his huffing and panting mouth around his cock into his memory forever. This would be a priceless wank material for as long as he lived.
He was close and then lost it when Goten slipped a finger into him. No matter how hard he had tried to keep his face straight, it still scrunched up when his orgasm hit him and he came both with pain and pleasure, his head reclining on its own as if trying to escape the mix.
Goten watched Trunks open his eyes. They were wet with tears. His forehead glistened with sweat. It had been somewhat freaky to give a blowjob to a straight-faced man. On the other hand, it turned him on to see Trunks try and control himself despite the pleasure.
“I can’t say that I didn’t like it,” Trunks muttered breathlessly, “but let’s not do it again until my damn nose heals at least a bit.”
Goten nodded. “Agreed.” He tossed the soiled tissues onto the floor, helped Trunks back into his underwear, and grabbed the discarded cloth from the covers. After wetting it in the bathroom, he returned and put it over the prince’s face again.
“Thanks. This feels good.”
The third-class slipped back into his underwear as well and lay down next to the other man in the bed. “It doesn’t seem like it has been a very good idea,” he concluded.
“Nonsense,” Trunks protested. “Now, I, at least, don’t have the energy to complain anymore.”
“I see. So, next time you start an endless tirade of complaints, I’ll just fuck them out of you.”
“You’re more than welcome to try. I don’t promise that it will always work, though.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure that it will.”
“And where the hell does that confidence come from?”
Turning to face him, Goten chuckled. “You really need to ask?”
Trunks’ face flushed red. Right. Just yesterday he had unwittingly confessed to the man. He cleared his throat and desperately thought about changing the topic to wipe that shit-eating grin off the third-class’s face.
“My mother is arriving in about two weeks.”
Goten laughed at the unexpected bit of diverting information that shot out of his lover’s mouth. “Is she? Oh right. It’s been a year already. It’s your birthday again, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think that’s the real reason for her visit.”
“Ahh… I’m the main attraction, aren’t I? The key exhibit.”
“Yes. She found out and now wants to meet you. I told her not to be…annoying, but I don’t think she’ll listen to me, so be prepared for invasive questions. She’ll probably ask you about your plans for the future, how much you love me, how you intend to make me happy, and what you’re going to do about your lack of ability to produce heirs to the throne.”
“The fuck?”
“Well, I think these are pretty normal questions, only that most parents don’t voice them. Believe me, she will. Perhaps not as directly, but she will.”
Perhaps these were the questions that Human parents cared about. The Saiyan parents, meanwhile, didn’t interfere to such an extent unless there were obvious signs of abuse or, more importantly, class differences. Kakarott didn’t care about either Reyn or Trunks or any of Gohan’s lovers. Most Saiyan parents weren’t the least bit interested in involving themselves with sexual partners of their offspring. On the other hand, Goten found it hard to imagine that his father’s opinion on his sex partners would influence him even a tiny bit. It just wasn’t any of Kakarott’s business who he slept with. His father’s worry about the class difference between him and Trunks was common-sense, but otherwise…
Goten wondered about what he thought was the cultural phenomenon for a few moments, then decided that it probably wasn’t the case and that it was understandably different when it concerned the heir to the throne.
“The one about heirs,” he said. “I don’t think I can do anything about that, can I?”
Trunks shrugged, uncomfortable. “She might have one or two suggestions. Just ignore them.”
“Suggestions?” Goten stared at him for a few moments, the gears in his head turning with difficulty. “Right,” he muttered finally. It wasn’t that he was clueless on the matter. It was obvious to him that a Saiyan prince must leave heirs. It was Trunks’ main responsibility to the throne. Yet, Goten had thought about it before and was of opinion that it would be better for the current king to produce pureblooded offspring. It only made sense to preserve the royal line of purebloods. Trunks was, however, the firstborn and the legitimate successor, that wasn’t questionable. Still, Goten had some reservations about that, even if the tradition was set in stone. It just…didn’t seem right. He’d rather see a pureblood on the throne.
Trunks, meanwhile, wondered if Goten realized how easily he could read it all on his face. Perhaps, it was because he often entertained similar thoughts. His grandfather had even called him “a monstrosity”. In a way, he was. He had never discussed this in-depth with his father, yet he somehow knew that as soon as his parents fell out or Bulma died, his father would produce another heir or heirs. And he would be fine with that. Despite the fact that he was the firstborn and the throne was his by default, he would forfeit, as it was the “right” thing to do. Even if he opposed, his father would come up with something to make him stand down. Trunks would have liked to think that it wouldn’t come to an assassination, but one could never know. His father was ruthless when it came to the matters of the throne.
“What would you think if I refused the throne?”
Goten watched him carefully. “Refuse?” he repeated slowly. The look on his face was turning more and more scandalized by the second. “You can’t refuse… What do you mean ‘refuse’? There’s no one else to take the throne! Why would you? And… Do you want to? It’s not… Uh… Is there something you’d like to do instead?”
Trunks could see that Goten was stomaching the very possibility with great difficulty. Trunks was of the opinion that refusing the throne would probably be in everyone’s best interests. In reality, he realized that he had only a very vague idea how the Saiyan society would react. They might be outraged, or relieved, could be both.
He had to commend Goten for managing to wrap his mind around the idea that there might be something else he’d rather do. Were it anyone else in Goten’s place, they’d probably just pretended not to have heard anything or walked out of the room.
“I don’t mean now,” Trunks said. “I mean someday, when or, perhaps, if my father has more children. I don’t know, maybe I could join our ambassador’s team on Earth? I rather like this post here too, I suppose. Hopefully, it gets less busy soon.”
The third-class was quiet for a while. Even if he would like to see a pureblood on the throne, Trunks refusing the throne that was meant for him was a blasphemy to his mind.
“If you do that, you won’t be able to live on Vegeta-sei anymore,” he said quietly. “You won’t be able to look anyone in the eye. You will have to live with that shame for the rest of your life. Everyone will look down on you. You have your duty, and you have to carry it out.”
Trunks nodded. “Right.” He let out a bitter chuckle. “Only it’s not that simple, is it? You’d rather see a pureblood on the throne, wouldn’t you?”
Goten’s dark eyes locked with his. “Yes, everyone would,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t matter: you are what you are, and you are the next in line for the throne.”
Trunks wondered if other Saiyans were of the same opinion as Goten. “You’re not even our subject,” he said defensively. “Does it matter to…”
“Of course it matters,” Goten interrupted him. “It’s not like I don’t live in this very same society as you do.”
“You have some very strong presumptions.”
“Trunks, if you forfeit, it will be the end of you. I think you spent too much time on Earth to even consider this. You won’t ever be forgiven if you do it. It’s… I don’t know, it sounds like treason uttered by the very person we are sworn to protect with our lives. It’s…a very unpleasant and painful idea.”
Trunks sighed. “I suppose it is, isn’t it? I’m sorry. You’re probably right. But I feel… trapped? I don’t want to forfeit my rights, don’t worry. Yet I keep thinking that there might be a better option for the throne than me.”
“You’re the only option,” Goten said firmly. “And… You know, your idea about staying on Earth… I’d not recommend that. Earthlings are rather peculiar concerning you. I talked to some and… I’m afraid that they might think that you’d make a perfect hostage.”
“We are allies, Goten.”
“You never know.”
“Let’s just go to sleep.”
TBC
- 74
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- 76
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