Trapped in a Moment, Lost in Time.

Comments, suggestions, and requests are HIGHLY encoraged! This is my very first net-bound fic and my absolute first attempt at a lemon, so I could really use the input.


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It’s been so long.

Years, it seems, since I’ve felt your touch, lost myself in your strong embrace. I remember like it was yesterday; I was only eleven, and those wet dreams had been plaguing my every sleeping moment for nearly six weeks before I crawled into your bed and touched the skin I longed for. You waited, patiently, for nearly a year after that first night of passion before I could convince you that, in spite of my youth, I was an old soul and fully ready to give myself fully to my master. Even then, you were gentle with me, and held back time and again to bring about my ecstasy before your own. I loved you, I think. In my own way. You were a father I never had, a brother I always wanted, and a lover I can’t replace all in one cut, firm bodied package.

I remember the looks you would give me on those hot summer days of training. I recall stripping off my sweat soaked tank slowly, letting my damp hair fall in my eyes, just the way you liked it. I remember that day I’d make the mistake of suggestively licking and sucking at a popsicle, intentionally getting a rise out of you in all senses of the word. I remember how that cold, cherry flavored stick had felt inside me.. I shiver even now; you always were the imaginative one, weren’t you?

As I lie awake in this bed, burning holes through the ceilin my my near empty room with aching blue eyes, I cannot escape your memory. I cannot avoid the thoughts of your smile on my lips, your heart beat in the afterglow, the way that damned near predatory smirk would play across your every feature when I would walk by towel clad and shower bound.

I groan aloud; even the memory of you is enough to entice a physical response from my five years untouched body. It surprises me, this feeling. I thought this side of me had died along with you. I’d sworn, even at that tender age, to never love again.

It’s been too long.

My hand moves of its own accord, pressing against my chest with fingers splayed, sliding down below the sheets. I close my eyes, imagining that yours are the fingers toying with my treasure trail. I project your image above me with such desire that I can nearly feel your breath on my cheek as I- no, as you wrap your hands slowly around my swelling length, encasing my most neglected part in your painfully tight grasp.

I shudder, biting at my lip as your ghost slowly draws that intimate touch all the way to the tip of my aching cock, your thumb swirling slowly and deliberately about the tip in agonizing circles. You silence my moans with an insistent finger pressing between my lips. I part them and suck sensually on your intruding digit, almost begging you to hasten your ministrations down below. You seem to take note of my need and do just that, pumping that tight fist up and down my length in swift and fluid motions. I gasp, and you use the opportunity to slide another finger into my mouth. I bathe them both with my tongue, groaning as you pull them away from me all too soon.

Your hand works in a sudden frenzy, and I cannot hold my cries a moment longer. I nearly sob your name when I feel those fingers I had so readily sucked pressing relentlessly against and then delving into my hidden entrance. The sheet has long been disposed of, and now I spread my legs even further, knees bent, leaving myself entirely open to your whims.

I’m close, so very close. You expertly stroke me inside and out. You always loved this; you were addicted to making me beg for more of your particular brand of ecstasy. You would torture me like this for almost an hour some times, bringing me to the very edge of release and then stopping entirely, silencing my cries of protest with the head of your weeping cock against my lips.

Your ghost adds a third finger to join the two already stretching me, and I moan as they strike that pleasure spot that drives me wild. Not long after, I spill my seed, crying out for you as that sweet nirvana shakes me to the core.

But you aren’t there, Gohan. The only sight that greets my eyes in that of my own seed on my chest and hands. I fight bthe the urge to actually cry. Even after all these years, this would be the first time I’d ever… The first time that my Gohan wouldn’t hold me close and whisper me to sleep. I pull the blankets about me and curl myself around a pillow. But that pillow is a poor substitute for you. Now I understand why I’ve never done this alone; I neeu. Tu. The empty ache inside me now is almost too much to bear. The air around me is charged with sex, but I’m alone. I can almost taste you, but you’re nowhere to be found.

I can’t fight it any longer. The tears run freely. I haven’t cried since that day. I’d always needed to be strong for Mother and the others. If those Androids had witnessed a moment’s weakness, the would’ve exploited it. I’m silent. I have no desire to have Vegeta walk in on this and lord it over me. He wasn’t what I’d hoped for, Gohan. Bulma had told me time and again that Father would fill the void you left in me; but how could she possibly know that, being so blissfully unaware of the intensity of our relationship?

Still, I’d held some sort of childish hope. I’d prayed that, between seeing Father and the man you could’ve become, I would be able to move on and find somebody else in my life.

It’s not like that at all. I hate it here. At home, I had the Androids, at least, to keep me from thinking too deeply. Here, we’ve already defeated them, and now that damned time machine won’t even take me home to your memory. I searched for so long… Even went to an alternate time and came back a few years from when I’d left, just to see what your chibi-seluld uld become. What you would look like without the scars, the pain, the fear for me and Mother. I’m unimpressed thus far; he’s married some girl called Videl and they have a child, Pan.

I don’t even have a chance with your doppelganger, Gohan. Why did you do this to me?