Crush

Title: Crush

Author: Isis

Warnings: Yaoi, lemon

Summary: Set a few days before the Cell Games. Yamcha spies Trunks training in the middle of the night and convinces the young Saiya-jin to loosen up for once. Y/MT

Note: I’ve recently been converted by marc to use Trunks’s instead of Trunks’. It, uh…feels nice, lol.

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Yamcha knew these deserts well, having once called them home before meeting the group that changed the entire path of his life. He smiled into the dusty breeze. It was a warm, summer night, and the textured sand beneath his feet was a welcome change from the harsh pavement of the city. He crossed his legs in mid-air, floating just above the dunes, and closed his eyes. Meditation was now a necessity, since the androids and Cell had appeared. He was always on his guard, lest a robotic hand impale itself through his torso again. The zen-like state he entered was a calm respite, and his worries of the upcoming tournament almost melted away.

Through the darkness of his mind, he sensed a powerful energy nearby. He immediately recognized that it belonged to Trunks, the boy from the future, the spawn of his ex-girlfriend. Yamcha couldn’t help but frown. It wasn’t as if he didn’t love Bulma, but he certainly wasn’t in love with her. They had been childhood sweethearts, but at some point he had realized that he saw her simply as a friend. Their break-up wasn’t what bothered him; no, it was the man she had moved onto next that bored into his pride. From what he saw, the flame-haired Saiya-jin was nothing but an asshole, but even he, the ever distant Vegeta, managed to provide for Bulma what he could not. And then fathered a child with her. One he didn’t even want.

Yamcha ceased his meditation and unfolded his legs. Not bothering to walk, he floated lazily over the towering sand dunes, squinting as the sand blew haphazardly into his face. It wasn’t long before he reached the young man, powered up to Super Saiya-jin, sparring with an invisible opponent. He stopped at a moderate distance and watched. Trunks was dressed in the blue and white armor that Bulma had fashioned using Vegeta’s usual training outfit. As he watched, he was surprised to note how well the spandex clung to Trunks’s lithe frame. Trunks bounced easily over the sand, dodging his adversary with acrobatic flips.

The dark-haired warrior smiled, reminded of the few times he had ever trained with Goku. The Saiya-jins seemed to move with a grace that was lost upon humans. He never understood what made them so physiologically, not to mention psychologically, able to handle the brutal abuse they could withstand.

When Trunks stopped, Yamcha was pulled from his musings. He saw Trunks’s chest rise and fall with a heavy breath and then his head turned in his direction. Yamcha widened his eyes, as he realized he had been staring at the younger man for quite a while. There was no way Trunks hadn’t been aware of his presence for at the very least half the time.

Trunks stared blankly at Yamcha for a moment, an atypically unreadable expression on his face—the kid, while quiet and serious, usually wore his emotions on his sleeve. Yamcha cleared his throat and grinned brightly. Trunks gave a small, reserved smile in return and waved. Taking the gesture for an invitation, Yamcha closed the gap between them.

“What are you doing up so late? And way out here no less.”

Trunks shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh? Got some girl back at home you’re worried about?” Yamcha said teasingly, nudging Trunks with his elbow.

Trunks titled his head almost imperceptibly, a “what the hell?” look splattered on his features.

“Um…no.”

Yamcha sighed dramatically. “I’m just messin’ with ya. Come on, lighten up!”

Trunks frowned; his mother had told him the same thing before he left for the past the second time. He regarded Yamcha with the same expressionless face that he had before, noticing not for the first time the remarkable resemblance he shared with his master from the future. The scars were different, but the overall effect was the same.

“So, what are you doing out here?” he asked, deciding to be pleasant. He had actually come out to the desert to get away from everyone, as he had been having a hard time coping with all those he had met recently. He had generally led a lonely life, and it wasn’t until he came to this timeline did he realize how draining it could be to constantly interact with others.

Yamcha shrugged, much like Trunks had when he had asked the same question. “Just figured I should get away from the city for a while. Too many people.”

Trunks smiled genuinely, glad that someone shared his sentiment.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

A comfortable silence passed between them. Suddenly, Yamcha made a move to sit on the cool sand and motioned for Trunks to join him.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

Trunks hesitated before answering, mildly surprised that he was taking an interest. He shrugged again, raking a hand through loose lavender strands. It was then that he realized that the band tying his hair together had been lost during his training and he sighed.

“I guess I’m just concerned about the Cell Games.” He paused. “I didn’t expect things to happen this way…and I’m more than annoyed that I wasn’t able to beat Cell when I had the chance.”

Yamcha smiled. “I heard you put up one hell of a fight though.”

Trunks frowned, almost rolling his eyes. He didn’t want the “you did a good job anyway” comment.

“Yeah, I guess.” Another pause. “It’s just…I could have killed him. I had the power, but not the speed. And it’s not like I’m not…capable of attaining the right combination but…I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have enough experience.”

Yamcha raised his eyebrows in surprise. This guy, who had lived through hell and then some, was doubting his battle skill.

“Well, maybe you just need more guidance. How long did Gohan train you?”

“Not long. He died before he could teach me everything. I mean, I knew the basics before we even started, but there was still a lot I had left to learn. After he died, there was only so much I could do on my own.”

“I see. What about Vegeta? You guys trained in that room on Kami’s Lookout, right?”

Trunks made a short breath through his nose, which was accompanied by a caustic upward twitch of his lips. “We trained, but not necessarily together.”

“Oh. You’ve been mostly teaching yourself then?” Yamcha asked, his dark eyebrows still arched. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“I guess.”

Yamcha laughed. “Don’t be so modest. Besides, you should be aware of your strengths, too, not just your weaknesses. You’re a great fighter, so don’t doubt that.”

The older man reached out and squeezed his knee. When his hand lingered there for longer than necessary, Trunks gave him a curious glance. Yamcha pulled his hand away and frowned inwardly. Even in retracting his hand, his fingers grazed slowly across the fabric.

What am I doing? he asked himself.

As the thought scurried through his head, others pervaded his mind as well. The man across from him was certainly good-looking, but this was Bulma’s son. Not just Bulma’s, but Vegeta’s son as well. If either of them got wind of what he was thinking just then, they would kill him on the spot.

But one more look at the demi Saiya-jin ran a shiver up his spine. Yamcha knew that he found the Saiya-jins attractive, having had both minor crushes on both Goku and Vegeta. Especially Vegeta. However, neither of them had been emotionally available: Goku was married and Vegeta was…Vegeta. Even if he ignored those little details, he still most likely would not have followed through with his lust. Goku was too gentle and naïve, and Vegeta was too rude and detached. Trunks, though, was different. He managed to pleasantly fall somewhere in between.

“You hardly talk about Gohan,” Yamcha started suddenly, realizing that he had been staring again. “You’ve mentioned your mom a few times, but I imagine you spent a lot of time with Gohan too.”

Trunks looked down at the sand, absently playing with the grains. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Tell me about him. If you don’t mind.”

“Why do you want to know?”

Yamcha worried that he had somehow offended him, but when he saw the calm expression on his face, he sighed quietly in relief.

“Curious, that’s all. I’ve known Gohan since he was a baby. I can’t imagine him all grown up.”

“Oh. …Well, he was sort of like a father figure, since my dad died before I could remember. He was a strict teacher but still kind. He seemed to have so much faith in me, like he just knew I would be the one to defeat the androids instead of him.” He hesitated. “He was very strong but oddly gentle at the same time. Kind of like Goku.”

Yamcha watched the shift in his attitude as he spoke about his deceased friend. There was something lingering in his eyes that spoke volumes more of what he truly felt for his master.

“Did you love him?” Yamcha asked.

The question very obviously caught Trunks off-guard. His blue eyes widened and his lips parted very slightly, and Yamcha knew the answer.

“Like…family? …Yes.”

“No.” Yamcha shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

Trunks was silent for a long time. They stared at each other for just as long.

“It’s strange, you know,” Trunks said, not answering Yamcha’s question, “but you look a lot like him. Your face shape, the eyes, the hair.”

“Oh?” Yamcha was keenly aware that Trunks was skirting his query, but didn’t press the matter. “Well, how does that make you feel about me?”

Trunks fixed another blank stare on him, his eyes searching the rugged man across from him. His questions were odd, but he couldn’t help but think about their answers. He knew he loved Gohan, as more than some sort of older brother, and he also knew that seeing Yamcha confused his emotions. He had managed to keep a safe distance away from the man since he arrived, and subsequently, any emotional conflict had been avoided. And now, for the first time, he was spending a substantial amount of time with the ex-bandit, and he was uncomfortably stuck between at ease and on guard.

“What do you mean?” he asked, giving himself more time to think.

“I mean, is it hard for you to be around me? To look at me? Since I remind you so much of him.”

Trunks sighed, wondering when their conversation became so personal. “It’s…weird, yeah. But you two aren’t carbon copies, so it’s not like I can’t…interact with you at all or anything.”

“That’s good to hear. I think I would be disappointed if you couldn’t.”

There was another silence. Yamcha again found himself watching the younger man. He was tense, anxious even, as he stared at the ground. The moonlight cast appealing shadows and highlights across his face, and reflected prettily off his light colored hair. The curtain of lavender hung loosely over his shoulders and Trunks quickly tucked one side behind his ear. His violet eyelashes moved attractively as he blinked, and Yamcha smiled. Yes, Trunks was a very good-looking young man.

“Hey,” he started, and Trunks looked up, realizing that they were mere inches apart. Yamcha’s deep brown eyes were clouded with…lust?

“Why don’t you let me be Gohan for you? Just for a little while.”

Yamcha’s words were breathy, and the implication was not entirely lost on Trunks. A variety of emotions flitted across his eyes, as he contemplated the bandit’s words. It was a strange request, and Yamcha wasn’t exactly sure why he had said it. Was he really interested in filling the obvious void in Trunks’s heart left by Gohan’s absence, or was he simply using it as an excuse to satisfy his own selfish desires?

Trunks blinked, staring at a man who looked vaguely like the one he loved, and who was offering himself to him in a manner that he would never have the other. The distance between them was so small that they could feel each other’s breath. The near-contact was tempting, and Trunks wondered if it would be wrong to use Yamcha in such a way.

Yamcha smirked. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind.”

A small smile tugged at Trunks’s lips before the space between them was closed completely. Their lips meshed, at first gently but soon passionately. Trunks closed his eyes, immediately seeing Gohan in his mind’s eye. The thought gave rise to a soft moan, to which Yamcha responded favorably.

Yamcha reached up to slide his fingers through Trunks’s hair. It was dense like Goku’s but finer in texture, sort of like Bulma’s. He cringed at the thought of his ex-lover and quickly dispelled any thoughts of her. With his free hand, he caressed the time traveler’s lower back, eliciting a tiny sound of pleasure and surprise. Yamcha smiled, placing kisses down his neck and continuing to play with the intriguing spot just at the base of his spine. Trunks’s breaths were heavy and he squirmed with every touch. With a gasp, he unwittingly lifted himself off the ground, and Yamcha pulled him onto his lap.

Trunks tugged at the orange gi that Yamcha wore, and it was easily pulled away from the tanned skin. His chest now bare, Trunks took a moment to admire Yamcha’s physique. He was well-sculpted, with scars telling silent stories of the battles he had fought.

“Like what you see?”

Trunks smirked but said nothing in response. Instead, he pressed their lips together again, grinding his hips against the man in front of him. Yamcha gasped at the sudden aggressiveness, not pegging him as the dominant type. He felt a palm push firmly against his chest, and Yamcha’s was suddenly on his back, Trunks smiling deviously above him. There was another short tug of his pants, and with a fluid motion Yamcha was fully bared to him, clothes tossed aside. Yamcha’s breath quickened, his erection now clearly exposed.

“Have you thought about this?” Yamcha asked, his voice low and filled with desire. “Have you thought about what you would do to Gohan?”

Trunks tilted his head, his expression becoming innocent. “Have you? Have you thought about what you would do to my father?”

In response to Yamcha’s wide eyes, Trunks gave a shit-eating smirk, knowing he looked just like his father. He leaned down to brush his lips against Yamcha’s ear, his cerulean eyes watching him, watching every emotion that crossed the older man’s face.

“I’m not stupid, you know. I’ve seen how you look at him.” He paused, bringing his hand up to play in Yamcha’s thick, black hair. “Why don’t you let me be Vegeta for you? I don’t mind.”

It was then that Yamcha realized that there was a lot that he did not know about the young man hovering over him. Violet hair tickled his cheek and he smiled. He gripped Trunks’s chin with one hand, bringing him in for a searing kiss that sent waves of pleasure coursing through their veins. Fingers traced down Yamcha’s torso to skim over the stiff appendage below. As he worked his hand, Yamcha groaned, opening his mouth for Trunks to deepen their kiss. Their tongues dueled, dancing with a rhythm that almost felt pre-determined. When Trunks pulled away, Yamcha let out a small whimper, but it was replaced by a high-pitched sigh as Trunks lowered his head, his mouth covering the tip of his erection. He sucked lazily, then licked down and up the shaft, chuckling quietly to himself at the noises Yamcha was making. The vibrations of his voice resonated within the older man, his moans rising in volume, as Trunks presented him with the blowjob he would have given his master if he had been there.

“God, Trunks…” Yamcha said between moans. “Have you…done this before…?”

Yamcha raised his head to lock eyes with the young man. Never breaking eye-contact, Trunks dipped his head to completely engulf him, pushing the tip to the back of his throat. Yamcha groaned loudly towards the heavens, letting Trunks swallow his orgasm.

Breathing heavily, Yamcha relaxed against the sand. His vision was clouded with the aftermath of his climax, and he only vaguely heard the rustling of clothing nearby. He glanced over at Trunks, watching him strip of his armor and spandex, revealing the chiseled body that Yamcha had ogled not too long ago. Yamcha perked at the sight, and he lifted himself onto his elbows, smiling appreciatively.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he said, a hint of a teasing tone in his voice.

Trunks shrugged one shoulder but remained quiet. Yamcha sighed.

“So mysterious.”

The scarred warrior grinned, sitting up completely, and snaked an arm around the crouching man’s waist. He pulled Trunks tightly to him, whispering boldly into his ear.

“Let me fuck you.”

Trunks felt his body tingle at the man’s bluntness. When Yamcha placed his fingers to his lips, no words were spoken as Trunks sucked obediently on the proffered digits. Yamcha was reluctant to pull his fingers away, but he knew that more enjoyable things were to come. He gently pushed Trunks back onto the desert sand. With his slick fingers poised at Trunks’s entrance, his other hand played with the rigid erection in front of him. Trunks bucked and gasped as Yamcha teased him in both places, his eyes closed tightly. Yamcha kissed him, removing his hands from their respective positions to skim lightly along sides and rest on his shoulders.

Yamcha used his thigh to nudge the other’s leg, and Trunks took the hint, hooking one leg then the other onto Yamcha’s hips. Positioned comfortably, Yamcha pushed slowly into Trunks, earning a quiet moan as the lavender-topped head fell back onto the sand. Yamcha leaned down to lick at the now exposed neck, relishing the sounds Trunks produced.

Yamcha rocked his hips, and the time traveler squeezed his legs around Yamcha’s waist, wanting the man deeper inside of him. The older man set the pace and Trunks soon matched it with equal vigor. Trunks arched his back as Yamcha struck that one spot that made the world fade away around him. His fingers dug into the sandy ground beneath him, and he growled his pleasure to the midnight sky. Yamcha smirked, taking note of the reaction, and angled himself so that he hit that bundle of nerves every time. Supporting himself with one hand, he used the other to tease Trunks’s erection. The combination of the two sensations brought him to the brink of his climax.

“Goha—!”

Trunks stopped, biting his bottom lip to prevent the wrong name from being spoken. Yamcha, cheeks flushed an attractive reddish color, stroked the younger man’s hair.

“It’s okay…go ahead and say his name.”

Not waiting for Trunks to respond, he shoved himself as deep as he could into the man beneath him. Trunks gasped, his eyes squeezing shut as he ground his hips desperately against Yamcha, feeling his orgasm quickly approaching. Gohan appeared again in his mind’s eye, and it was enough to push him over the edge.

“Go…Gohan!!”

With his master’s name tumbling from his lips, evidence of his pleasure splattered between them. Yamcha stared down at him, feeling the man become limp underneath him, and he thrust deeply several times, his own orgasm coming shortly after. When he closed his eyes, he was not surprised to see that it wasn’t Vegeta or even Goku who manifested before him, but it was the vision of a blushing Trunks to which he succumbed.

Yamcha slumped against the young fighter, catching his breath. He could hear Trunks’s heart beat slow until it was an even pulse again. When he finally rolled to the side, Trunks turned to him, a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips. A faint pink stained his cheeks and he kissed Yamcha lightly.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

They said nothing for a long moment, and the night was still until Trunks sat up, bits of sand falling from his back. He slipped into his clothing and looked over his shoulder at Yamcha, who was still on the ground.

“I should get home. It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll…see you soon?”

“Of course.”

Trunks smiled and took flight, heading towards his home in West City. Yamcha watched until Trunks was no more than a black speck on the horizon. He lay back on the sand, not bothering to get dressed. Folding his arms behind his head, he frowned. There was no sense in getting attached; Trunks would at some point have to return to his own timeline, leaving him with an infant that would certainly not be up for any sort of adult intimacy.

Suddenly, he was annoyed. He had willingly placed himself in the situation, allowing himself to be nothing more than a fleeting replacement for the Gohan that Trunks loved. And of course, the lovesick fool that he was, he somehow managed to harbor feelings for the lavender-haired prince.

“Dammit, Yamcha,” he cursed himself quietly.

Once again, he had fallen for yet another Saiya-jin that he could never have.


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Aw, Yamcha. Now, this story came out of nowhere. I normally don’t write Yamcha as anything other than a passing character, so I don’t know how well I did him justice. But Yamcha with short hair reminds me of future Gohan a lot (physically). Hmm, and Trunks never seemed to care that he was totally doing his mom’s ex-boyfriend. Heh. Oh well. XD