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Test Drive	By : mzoeller Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1657 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z and make no money off writing fic of it.

Chapter List
- 1-Test Drive
- 1
Title: Test Drive

Author: zoeller

Rating: NC17

Pairing: Trunks/Goten (set around the final DBZ episode, but before Goku leaves to train Uub)

Notes: This was originally written for the Dragonball Kink Meme on livejournal for the prompt "Trunks/Goten, intro to BDSM. Anon requests a different kind of "first time" for our boys. ;) Trunks and Goten experiment, either consciously, or realizing the implications halfway through. Bondage not required. Spanking would be appreciated. MAJOR BONUS POINTS for Trunks as an AWKWARD dom." It was also my first foray back into fic and the DBZ fandom after quite some time, and it took me a few weeks of thinking before I finally got the guts to clean it up and post. All in all, it's about 6,000 words on the dot.

"I just," Goten shrugged, his hands jammed in his pockets. "I'm not sure I get why the idea of you spanking me is supposed to be sexy. Gohan used to spank me when I was kid whenever I messed up. If I start thinking about my brother during sex I might develop some kind of complex."
Trunks pushed his hair from his eyes and scowled. It would be so much easier if Goten understood without Trunks having to explain it to him. "Look," he said, pleased with the extra ounce of patience he managed to inject into his voice, "it's not about punishment."
Goten's eyebrows flew toward his hairline. "Really? Because my experience—"
"So I saw this porn once," Trunks interrupted, and Goten's mouth closed with an audible clack. "You know. Not on purpose."
"How do you see a porn 'not on purpose'?" Goten looked skeptical.
"The link was in Spanish, but that's really not the point. It was," Trunks interrupted himself with a frustrated groan. His face was starting to heat, and Goten's expression was swiftly shifting from confused to amused. "You know." Another pause. "I thought it might—be fun to try," he finished lamely. It never failed to surprise Trunks how his natural eloquence went flying out the window when it came to Goten.
… who was looking less and less disturbed by the moment. Goten looked off to the side, staring thoughtfully at an oblong stain on the carpet floor of his bedroom. "I don't have a reason to say no. I think you're kind of a freak, but we both knew that." He grinned, and Trunks was certain his own face mirrored it – times ten.
Of course, the sound of Chi Chi calling them for dinner kind of ruined the moment.
Goten was up and out the door before Trunks had the chance to say, So when's good for you? which was probably for the best.
Dinner with the Sons was always a battle, especially on nights when Gohan and his family joined in – so of course it had to be one of those nights.
Pan was the first to spot Trunks walking reluctantly into the kitchen. She promptly tried to escape her chair, her arms up and flailing toward him, but Videl grabbed her just in time.
"Hi, Pan." Trunks tried to sound cheerier than he felt. He really had no reason to act put out when Goten had just agreed, for fuck's sake, but all Trunks wanted to do was shove his friend out the door. He could buy Goten a whole damn buffet if it meant getting what he wanted, when he wanted it.
"C'mon," Goten said, managing to speak through a bulgingly full mouth. "S'plenty!" Across from him, Goku nodded, gnawing on some kind of gargantuan chicken wing.
A typical night in the Son household.
Trunks didn't get the chance to corner Goten until dinner was over and the table was cleared. Their sleeves were rolled up and they were both elbow deep in suds, scrubbing the dishes in the sink. Chi Chi was somewhere in the background, muttering darkly as she swept up the remains of a shattered glass.
"So?" Trunks prompted, leaning close so the word was for Goten alone.
"So?" Goten echoed. He gave Trunks a sideways glance before tossing his head to shake his bangs from his eyes, huffing. "I should just get it cut."
Was he avoiding the topic on purpose? Trunks, as nonchalant as he could manage, said, "Are you still planning on coming home with me tonight?"
"Coming home with—" Recognition flickered in Goten's eyes. "Ah. Well." He looked down at the sudsy plate in his hands. "Yeah." Trunks didn't need to look twice to see the nervous grin on his friend's face.
"It's, I mean—it's not like you have to—" Trunks shut himself up. He was going to start babbling. Goten was the babbler, not him. Twisting his mouth irritably, Trunks grabbed another dish from the counter – and immediately broke it to pieces from the force of his nervous energy.
"That's it!" Chi Chi brandished her broom at the boys, her eyes narrowed. "Out, go! You're both about as helpful as—as—"
"Dad?" Goten suggested brightly.
The dry look on Chi Chi's face was answer enough.
Before she had a chance to take a whack at them, Goten shoved Trunks out of the room, waving quickly back at his mother. "Gohan's so lucky," he said.
"Doubtful. I think this sort of thing is universal with all women," Trunks corrected. "I mean, besides, you've met Videl, right?"
"I like Videl. She buys awesome birthday presents."
They were hovering in the hallway. To the right was Goten's bedroom. If they went to the left, that would be the way to the front door. Suddenly, Trunks didn't give two fucks about anything as mundane as dishes or which of the Son women was the most terrifying. He'd been stuck on the image of Goten face down and – and Trunks could barely stand to think it. It was at once the most bizarre and the most erotic fantasy he'd ever had.
"You need to get anything?" Trunks asked, cocking his head toward the bedroom. "I figure we should go."
"Ah, right." Goten shuffled his feet, looking back once at his bedroom door. Then he took a step toward Trunks. "Nah. Let's head out before Mom finishes cleaning." The last part, and before she decides to take vengeance, was left unsaid. Goku could handle his wife. "Let me just—Dad should be around here somewhere. C'mon, he's probably outside. I'll tell him we're going."
Goku was just outside, play sparring with Pan, who appeared to be fighting sleep at all costs. Trunks could see from the indulgent smile on Goku's face that the man had no intention of forcing her to bed any time soon. He stood off to the side and watched Pan teeter back and forth, holding tight to her grandfather's pants whenever she stumbled. Goten stepped around her and whispered something in his father's ear.
"Oh yeah?" Goku grabbed Pan and tossed her very carefully into the air before catching her, grinning widely at her shrieking laughter. "Have fun!"
"And you'll let Mom know?" Goten prodded. "Last time—"
"Ah, it's fine, it's fine!" Goku waved his son away. "I won't forget this time."
Goten gave his father a look Trunks knew he'd inherited from Chi Chi.
"Goodnight, son," Goku said pointedly.
"Night!" Pan agreed gravely, settling herself against Goku's shoulder.
Goten took off into the air, hovering a few feet off the ground until Trunks caught up with him. Then they were off.
Flying managed to stave off the worst of the anxious energy thrumming through Trunks. By the time they were over West City, the bright lights cutting a path into the night, Trunks was breathing easy again.
The entirety of the flight, Goten prattled on about nothing. It was the babbling, his friend's worst nervous habit. The more out of his comfort zone Goten was, the faster he spoke and the less sense he made. They were flying over Capsule Corporation – about five minutes from the flat Trunks owned when he needed a break from the hustle and bustle of his mother's home and business – just as Goten began extolling the virtues of bottled water versus drinking from the faucet.
"You can shut up any time now," Trunks said, fighting off a snicker. No sense in pissing Goten off too much.
"You're being too quiet," Goten complained over the roar of the wind rushing past them. "I have to fill the silence!"
Luckily, they arrived at Trunks' flat before Goten had the opportunity to babble relentlessly on. They landed on the roof and made their way down the steps to the third floor – of seven, which was honestly more irritating than Trunks had expected it to be when he signed the lease – where Trunks' door stood at the end of the hall opposite the stairwell.
"I don't think I've ever been here when your neighbors weren't screaming," Goten observed, leaning against the wall as Trunks fished his keys from his pocket. "Did they move?"
"Dunno. I haven't actually been by here since—when did we set Kame House on fire?"
Goten's mouth formed a silent oh. "That was, what, six months ago? And I'd almost forgotten about that one," he snorted.
"I wish I could," Trunks said darkly. "Eighteen." Then he stopped and shuddered. "Terrifying, terrifying woman." He unlocked the door and pushed it open, waving Goten ahead of him.
"Such a gentleman," Goten simpered, and was careful to trip Trunks up when he tried to follow. He laughed at Trunks' scowl and went straight for the kitchen.
"I don't actually think there's food in there," Trunks called after him. "And if there is, you don't want to eat it." They just ate! Sure, their kind ate more than the norm, but not even an hour later was bordering on ridiculous.
Goten walked quickly from the kitchen, his nose wrinkled in disgust and his mouth a flat line. "Right. Six months," he said. "Gross."
And then that was that. Several things occurred to Trunks all at once: first that he and Goten were alone, second that Goten was staring rather intensely at Trunks' knees, and third that Trunks' mouth had gone dry. He told himself it was from anticipation rather than nerves.
"So," he said, "are you all right with this?" His voice broke rather embarrassingly in the middle, and the tension in the room disappeared altogether.
Goten snickered. "Sure am. But I think you're going to have hard time trying to get me to take this seriously." His tone was challenging despite the light-heartedness of his words.
"Right," Trunks said. "No problem." He swallowed loudly.
"It is your idea," Goten continued. The grin on his face gave him away. He was messing with Trunks' head and having an excellent time doing so.
Okay, it was fine. No problem. It was his idea, and Trunks knew right what he wanted.
It was getting there that would be the problem.
Trunks' flat was very Spartan: gray walls, gray carpet, sparsely decorated. The kitchen was the brightest room in the whole place, owing to its yellow fringe. The bedroom was, interestingly enough, the least exciting room. The bed was a double with plain white sheets, neatly made, and springy from a lack of use. Goten walked into the bedroom, Trunks lingering in the doorway, and sat down – a bit too quickly. The bed lurched and gave a long groaning sigh that sounded, to Saiyajin ears, like an ear-splitting shriek. Goten jumped up with a curse and whirled around in alarm.
It wasn't the most promising start.
"Man." Goten scratched the back of his head. "Really? Your bed sucks, Trunks."
"I knew there was a reason I never slept here," Trunks muttered. "Damn. Fuck. What the—"
"A hotel might be better," Goten interjected. "Or the floor. I don't think I can get it up if the bed makes that noise every time you," he floundered, his face going a bit rosy, before settling on, "move," in a much smaller voice.
It was funny how different reality was from fantasy. By all rights, they should have already been fucking. Trunks should have known exactly what to do, been as commanding as he knew he could be, and Goten should have been face down and happy to be there. Instead, he was shuffling back and forth, torn between declaring it all – loudly and at great length – a complete joke, and what kind of idiot was Goten for thinking Trunks wanted to spank him of all things? And then there was the side of him that just wanted to say to hell with all these distractions. Where there's a will, there's a way, and all that.
Goten took a step away from the bed, casting it a wary backwards glance. "Hotel?" he said hopefully.
Trunks stared his friend down. "No," he said. "Couch."
Goten's face did this funny twisting thing, like whatever was going on in his head wasn't quite computing with reality (did Trunks ever know the feeling!) and especially not computing with 'couch'.
Without a word, Trunks walked out of the bedroom and into the sitting room. Goten remained behind for a brief moment before following, his footsteps dragging on the carpet.
"Look," Goten said, an argument on the tip of his tongue, "are we really sure about this?"
"I did say you don't have to do anything," Trunks said. "I never said this was—I mean, it was just an idea." An idea that he really, really wanted to follow through to completion. "It'll be fun."
Again, that skeptical look. "Okay," Goten said with obvious reluctance. He raked a hand through his hair and looked beyond Trunks at the couch. "So, what am I supposed to do?"
Something clenched in Trunks' stomach. How was he supposed to explain this? Especially to Goten? He tended to miss the obvious and often required Trunks to explain things again (and again and again…). No, that would be too humiliating. Trunks had already gone out on a limb just asking what he had. Words weren't what he needed.
Holding out a hand, Trunks smiled disarmingly. "Come here."
Goten took a step closer before he stopped to stare curiously, his head cocked to the side. Then he let out a resigned, yet amused, huff and grabbed Trunks' hand.
Physical contact between them was always intense. Trunks had come to expect it as such, and the moment Goten's fingers, warm and clammy, closed around his own, an excited jolt shocked Trunks' body. He gave a tug and walked backwards until the backs of his knees hit the couch. Goten followed with a playful reluctance until Trunks sat back and jerked him along, drawing Goten closer until he had one knee on either side of Trunks' thighs.
"Grab the back of the couch," Trunks instructed. He was surprised at the tremor in his voice.
"Right." Goten balanced himself with one hand on Trunks' shoulder as the other held tight to the back of the couch.
The blood was rushing from Trunks' head to his groin. It was the look in Goten's eyes that did it: he looked lost, shifting nervously on his knees, waiting for Trunks to tell him what to do. It was both similar to the first time they ever fucked and at the same time infinitely better. The first time, the share of power, though sliding in Trunks' favor, was mostly even. Now Trunks was fully in control.
Clearing his throat, Trunks reached between them to adjust himself. If he wasn't careful, he was going to shoot off early. Goten would never let him live it down.
"What now?" Goten looked down at him, tossing his hair from his eyes absentmindedly.
What now? For a moment, Trunks couldn't find his voice. He stared up at Goten, his mouth too dry and his heart beginning to increase its pace. "Uh."
Goten raised an eyebrow at him, a look reminiscent of his older brother. "Trunks?"
The use of his name was jarring. The porn had been absolutely filthy – not to mention a bit cheesy. A man and a woman, and Trunks could remember distinctly sitting at his computer desk, one hand jammed down his pants as he came listening to the woman say, what now, sir?
"You're not supposed to say my name," Trunks reprimanded. It might have been more convincing without his voice breaking in the middle. He cleared his throat. "You have to call me 'sir'."
Goten puffed his cheeks out, his expression dropping into a petulant sulk that brought Trunks back years. Then, just as Trunks began arming himself for the argument that was certain to come, Goten laughed. "All right," he said. "sir. What now?" The laughing was a bit off-putting, but still, he'd said it. That was more than enough.
Trunks had been half-hard before, his arousal dampened by his nerves. Now, he could feel his dick swelling rapidly. Parting his thighs to relieve the strain, Trunks said, "Say it again."
With a speculative look, Goten tilted his head forward, nearly pressing his chin to his chest: "Sir?"
Sucking in a harsh breath, Trunks raised his hands to grip Goten's hips, squeezing experimentally. How far would Goten allow him to take this? Again, no resistance. It was shocking to Trunks that his friend was taking this all in stride. Locking eyes with Goten, he didn't break that contact as he slid his hands down to fumble with his zip. The only change in Goten's expression as Trunks jerked his pants down was a faint reddening of his cheeks.
Of course, then Trunks realized that he couldn't get Goten's pants off. They were sitting mid-thigh, his boxers bunched up with them, and he'd have to ask Goten to move, but like hell did he want to—
Obligingly, as though he could read Trunks' mind, Goten rearranged himself. He sat – slowly and carefully – so he was sideways on Trunks' lap, his legs stretching along the couch cushions. He lifted them, giving Trunks the room to pull his clothes free of his legs. Goten was skinny and knock-kneed, having gone through a recent growth spurt that the rest of him hadn't quite caught up with yet, Trunks noticed. He ran his hands idly down Goten's legs, listening to the stutter in his friend's breath when his hand slid back up – and up and up.
Goten's cock was fully hard and an angry red. Trunks nudged it with his knuckles and watched Goten duck his head in response, the grip he had on Trunks' arm tightening.
"That's what this is?" Goten choked out. "You're just going to—" A quick, sharp breath as Trunks closed his hand around Goten's cock "—sit here and, fuck, mess with me 'til I crack?"
Well, no, actually, though now that he had the idea, Trunks wouldn't mind following through with it. But that wasn't the objective. There was no telling when – or rather, if – he'd ever get Goten to agree to something like this again. He wanted to make as much of the night as he could. Trunks wanted to get him on his knees and fuck his face, to do everything he'd never had the guts to ask Goten to do before –
Yet somehow, he couldn't even open his mouth. The thought of actually voicing that made Trunks want to go bury himself. What the hell would Goten say to that, anyway? Trunks could just imagine: get down on your knees and suck my cock, he would say, in as commanding a tone as he could, and Goten would probably just look at him, one eyebrow up, for a long and painful moment, right before he burst into laughter. Trunks wouldn't be able to face him again. Not ever.
Goten was still panting, a series of rushed, heated breaths hitting Trunks' ear and rushing down the side of his neck. He was into it so far, that much was clear. Swallowing loudly, Trunks let go of Goten's cock and nudged his leg.
His eyes barely opened, Goten gave Trunks a heavily glazed look. He leaned back. "What?" he asked. Then, remembering himself: "Sir?"
Oh, fuck. Trunks clenched his teeth and breathed through the moment, his body pulsing dangerously. He hadn't felt this close to the edge so quickly since he was sixteen and messing around with Goten in the gravity chamber! "Uh," he began. Just say it, he ordered himself. "Get, um, down on the floor."
Something flickered in Goten's eyes. Then he slid off Trunks' lap, settling on his knees on the carpet. He was still wearing his shirt, that stupid long-sleeved thing with his name stretching across the chest, but all the same, Trunks had never seen a nicer sight.
"Like this, sir?" Goten said pointedly, resting his hands on Trunks' ankles.
"Uh, the shirt," Trunks said, pausing to wet his too-dry lips. "Take it off."
Goten released his ankles, giving Trunks a cheeky wink before peeling his shirt off and tossing it the way of his pants. "Now?" he asked, scooting closer on his knees. The humor so clear on his face revived Trunks' dwindling anxiety.
"I," Trunks began, trailing off as his mind flat lined. "Ah, that is…"
Goten rested his chin on one of Trunks' knees. Trunks' mouth dropped open, and it took a few seconds for him to realize it. He was just – just sitting there, staring down at Goten like some drooling moron who hadn't touched another human being for a hundred long years. Where was his self-control – not to mention his dignity?
Then Goten spoke: "You want me to," he ran his hands up Trunks' thighs and under his shirt, settling his hands on the flat, solid expanse of his stomach, "get rid of your pants?" He didn't wait for an answer before sliding his hands back down to settle over the catch of Trunks' pants. Wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously, Goten used his hands to stretch the material taut as he leaned closer and grabbed the zip with his teeth.
Trunks picked up a running mantra: I will not come, I will not come, I will not come… !
Once Goten got the zipper down, he slid the button out of place and pulled Trunks' pants open into a v-shape. He snapped the band of Trunks' boxers and gave him a questioning look. "And now, sir?" he asked, the demure words ruined by the overtone of humor.
How could he take this so – so not seriously? Goten seemed too at ease with this, while Trunks, who had proposed the idea in the first place, was frozen by his own inhibitions. Swallowing, he said, "Pull it out," and was mortified to note that he actually stuttered.
Worst night ever.
But Goten didn't make a joke of it, not like Trunks expected him to. Rather than a sarcastic remark, Trunks received Goten's hand in his boxers, tugging out his dick with a firm grip that left Trunks unable to draw breath. His mouth was open and his eyes clenched shut as Goten started jerking him, rubbing his thumb over the tip and lazily working his looped fingers up and down. When Trunks managed to crack an eye open, Goten was still on his knees and staring up, like a dog waiting for its master's next word.
Exactly like that, in fact.
Before Trunks could berate himself for the sudden bout of self-consciousness, Goten leaned forward and ran his tongue up the thick vein on the underside of Trunks' cock. "And now?" His mouth was nearly pressed against Trunks, so the words vibrated against him.
Don't come, oh fuck, don't come— Trunks clenched his jaw, his entire body tense with need. He needed something to take the edge off, to remove all the focus from himself. He needed to be proactive. When had Goten gotten control of the situation?
"Remember," Trunks said when he returned to himself. "What did I say I was going to do to you?"
An unreadable look passed over Goten's face before disappearing. "Spank me," he said. The words came out hesitantly, and with an edge of something Trunks couldn't name.
Trunks couldn't help the grin spreading across his face. "So what do you think?" he said. "Think you can handle it?"
Unexpectedly, Goten returned the grin. "Think you can?"
Trunks' mouth twisted into a scowl. "That's 'sir' to you," he reminded sharply, but rather than looking upset at the reminder, Goten looked pleased, as though he'd found something spectacular. Heading off the aggravation bubbling up in his mind, Trunks stood without warning, sending Goten back onto his rear, balanced by his hands.
Goten's leg's were open, knees bent. Trunks knelt down between them without hesitation and pushed his hand flat against Goten's stomach, urging him onto his back. Goten complied, but the moment his back hit the floor, he curled upward, balancing himself on his lower back.
"What now?" he asked again, sounding less certain. The cocky edge was gone from his words, and Trunks felt the thrill of control.
He pinned Goten to the floor with a knee on either side of his hips and grabbed Goten by the back of his hair, curling him forward none too gently. Goten's eyes flickered up, then focused back in on Trunks' cock, which was bobbing in front of him.
"That's it?" Goten taunted, straining to look up at his friend's face. "You made me get on the ground so I could suck it in another position? This carpet isn't comfortable, you know!"
Trunks gritted his teeth, then shoved Goten by his head. "Then just lay there," he demanded. Then, to himself, get it together! Goten was messing with his head. Trunks could tell by the grin alone.
I'm waiting, Goten's expression seemed to scream. "Getting cold feet?"
Something in Trunks' mind snapped. He grabbed Goten by his shoulder and hauled him over onto his hands and knees. He watched his friend sway unsteadily, then crane his neck to glare.
"Hey!"
"Quiet," Trunks said, swatting Goten's ass.
Goten froze, still looking over his shoulder. Then he flexed his back, leveling himself on his elbows rather than his hands. "That didn't take long," he muttered.
And just like that, the edge was gone. Trunks pressed his cock into the cleft of Goten's ass, grinding just enough to set a spark of pleasure off in his core.
Things were finally looking up.
It was enough to simply kneel behind Goten and watch the way his back flexed, the muscles going taut. His skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and every time he looked back at Trunks, the red that had long since settled on his face could clearly be seen spreading down his neck.
Trunks smacked him again, a barely-there tap that still made Goten jolt. He wasn’t making a sound. Goten’s bottom lip was between his teeth, and his face was set in that old determined scowl. He was probably resisting the urge to pout. Some things never changed.
But still, it would have helped if Goten had made a sound. How was Trunks supposed to gauge anything? Goten was usually so damned loud that Trunks would have to cover his mouth – or at least otherwise preoccupy it. They’d had way too many close encounters with awkward situations (one with Piccolo floated to the front of his mind...) thanks to that loudmouth.
"You’re a little tense," Trunks teased. He waited a beat, but Goten didn’t even acknowledge him. Rolling his eyes at the idiot’s typical stubbornness, Trunks reached under him and palmed Goten’s cock – which was just as hard, if not harder, than before. He pressed down and felt it jerk, leaking against his open palm. Trunks couldn’t help the leering grin that spread across his face. He knew Goten would be into it.
"Asshole," Goten said, though the last syllable came out breathy as Trunks slid his thumb along the head of Goten’s cock.
Trunks leaned over, grinding steadily against Goten’s ass, until his chest was to Goten’s back. Releasing his cock to slide his hand, sticky as it was, up Goten’s chest, Trunks rested his forehead on one broad shoulder, listening to the strained sound of his breathing. It went straight to Trunks’ cock.
After a moment, Goten laughed. "You’re getting distracted," he said. "If you just wanted to fuck me, why go through all this trouble?"
"You’re too damn cheeky."
Clearly the thought didn’t bother Goten. He braced his knees and slid them a bit further apart, wiggling back against Trunks just so. And then, that knowing laugh, like he could see Trunks’ eyes roll back in his head despite the fact that Goten was staring rather determinedly at the wall.
"Come on," Goten goaded. "You were all hot for it a minute ago. Aren’t you going to put me in my place," a pause, a breathless laugh, "sir?"
His mouth cottony, Trunks wet his lips before straightening himself. Goten had laid himself out for it. He was – well, he was asking for it! There was no reason to hesitate.
Trunks shuffled backward on his knees. Goten looked over his shoulder, craning his neck and wiggling his eyebrows, and why the hell couldn’t he be as relaxed? Was it some weird genetic thing? All of the Sons were always relaxed, so it made absolute perfect sense that it was some mutated gene. And then Trunks had gone and gotten the opposite, some shriveled counterpart gene that was probably from his Dad.
Regardless, Trunks figured blaming his father was as good an excuse as any.
"Stare at the wall," Trunks snapped. "Don’t turn around." Goten’s head whipped back around, startling Trunks with his compliance. It was like Trunks was just trying to trip himself up, expecting the worst.
Man up, he told himself.
He rested a hand on Goten’s ass, raising his eyebrows when his friend jolted at the unexpected contact. "If," he began "you don’t like it... Just. You know. Say so."
"...Right." Goten leaned forward a little, bracing himself on his elbows. Trunks could tell he wanted to turn around, but if he did –
Well, the answer was obvious. Trunks couldn’t do a damn thing with him looking.
With one last squeeze, he lifted his hand. It was kind of awkward, trying to spank him from directly behind. How had they done it in the movie...? The woman had been braced over the man’s lap the first time, then over a table, standing up against a wall, then on her knees, the man sort of... off to the side?
Whatever. Something like that.
Trunks moved to the side, giving Goten’s hip a warning tap when he caught him trying to get a look out of the corner of his eye. Then, with the sort of concentration he usually reserved for battle or assessing stock standings, Trunks reared his hand back and then forward. His palm hit Goten’s ass with a resounding smack, followed almost immediately by a sharp yelp. Goten’s entire body tensed.
Trunks froze, his hand still resting on a now-red cheek. "Is—I mean—" Had that been too hard? He hadn’t thought so! Fuck, had he actually hurt Goten?
"It’s," Goten sucked in a harsh breath, then, unexpectedly, moved back against Trunks’ hand. "It’s fine. You can," he broke off and jerked his chin to the side.
What, really? Seriously? Trunks swallowed, lifted his hand again, and brought it back down, but this time he kept going, building a steady pace and alternating cheeks as he watched Goten buck, like his body couldn’t decide which way it wanted to go. His forehead went down, his mouth open.
Trunks didn’t realize it, but at some point, he’d shifted closer, enough to grind against Goten’s hip. The room had gotten impossibly hot, the air thick and humid.
Abruptly, Trunks stopped, leaving his hand to knead Goten’s ass. "Goten."
Goten didn’t look up. His thighs were shaking, and Trunks could hear him breathing, his mouth nearly touching the floor. Then, just when Trunks was staring to worry, "I really, really need to get off," he said in this completely uncharacteristic and erotically charged whisper, like the ability to raise his voice any more wasn’t possible.
"Yeah." Trunks didn’t even cringe at the sound of his voice breaking. Getting off seemed much more important, and fuck it, he hadn’t even grabbed the lube, where had he put the lube – ?
"Trunks," Goten’s teeth were gritted when he finally looked Trunks’ way. "Now, please, if you can manage."
Lube’s in the bedroom, Trunks’ brain mercifully supplied. He had the wit to snap, "Don’t move," before scrambling gracelessly out of the sitting room, his cock still out and bobbing against his shirt, leaving a wet mess in its wake. The tiny bottle was under his pillow (some part of his mind was demanding to know when he’d done that, because Trunks sure as hell didn’t remember putting it there), and he wasted no time in grabbing it and sprinting back to the sitting room.
Goten hadn’t moved, though from the look of him, that had required some serious restraint on his part. When Trunks got back on his knees behind him, that restraint seemed to have ended. He sat straight again, twisting around to shove Trunks on his back and grab the bottle.
"But," Trunks began, already mourning the loss of control.
Goten slammed a hand over his mouth and straddled his hips. "You take too damn long!"
Trunks considered arguing, but then Goten was slicking up his fingers and tossing the bottle aside. Trunks barely got a look at his hand before Goten was leaning closer, one hand braced beside Trunks’ shoulder, the other disappearing behind him.
"I could’ve done that for you," Trunks said distractedly. The way Goten’s arm was moving behind his body and the way his breathing stuttered was worth the loss. Trunks’ eyes glazed over, and he reached up to rest his hands on Goten’s hips.
Then Goten was straightening up again, reaching down to steady Trunks’ cock and sink down on it. "Fuck," Goten rasped, grinding down.
"I could’ve done that, too," Trunks said breathlessly, but like fuck did he care how it happened, not when Goten started moving, riding him like he’d been waiting all night for it.
But that didn’t mean Trunks had to lay back and do nothing.
He curled upward and spat on his hand before grabbing Goten’s cock, jerking him roughly. Goten’s head cracked back, and he pushed onto Trunks so hard it seemed to wind them both. It took a moment of awkwardness, but they managed to hit stride quick enough, Trunks jerking Goten and Goten pushing back onto Trunks’ cock seamlessly, over and over until finally, Trunks felt himself going rigid. "I’m—"
The moment Trunks released him, Goten leaned forward, pulling off Trunks’ cock completely and letting him blow his load over his Goten’s ass and the backs of his thighs. The white hot pulses held Trunks' body rigid until they finally began to fade and his vision managed to refocus.
Goten was on his knees over Trunks’ chest, his cock still rock solid. "I think I’ve been a real sport about this, don’t you?" he panted. "You’re going to let me come on your face, right?"
Trunks nodded blearily. Then he grinned. "You’re the real pervert here," he said, and tilted his chin up, too sated to be anything other than agreeable.
Goten grabbed his cock and started pumping, barely managing a third time before he squeezed his eyes shut tight and started coming in spurts. Trunks barely managed to close his eyes in time.
When Goten rolled off him to collapse on the ground at his side, Trunks wrinkled his nose, reaching up to wipe a glob from his eyelid. "That’s so gross."
"It’s really hot," Goten corrected. He was sprawled out on his back. When he looked over at Trunks, he let out a startled burst of laughter. "You know, that’s the same look Vegeta gets on his face whenever he watches Dad eat sweets."
"Stop associating my father with our sex life," Trunks grumbled. He sat up and pulled his shirt off, using it to wipe his face clean. Then he tossed it aside. "So."
Goten’s eyes were closed. "So," he echoed. "So what?"
"You’ve got to give me more than that," Trunks demanded.
Again, the laughter. "I could do that again," Goten admitted. "Though I want to try being on the other end."
"Maybe," Trunks said.
"Snob." Goten grinned, cracking open an eye. "I have really awful rug-burn, though. On my knees."
"Poor baby."
"We’re totally doing the hotel thing next time."
"Uh huh."
"And you’re paying."
"That’s new and different." Trunks rolled his eyes. Then he turned to the side, staring down at Goten, who opened both his eyes.
"What?" he asked.
Trunks leaned down, giving him a quick, if slightly unsure, kiss. "Let’s get off the floor," he said, but before he could lean away, Goten got a hand full of his hair and was pulling him close again, sliding their lips together and letting out a low, contented sound. They parted with a smack, Goten looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Help me up." Goten held out his hand, and Trunks grabbed it, both of them crawling to their feet and wobbling unsteadily. As Trunks half-carried, half-dragged Goten into the bathroom to clean up, he wondered vaguely if he’d actually ever had control at any point during the night.
- 1
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