College Blues

Trunks had well savored his last taste of freedom before his expected return to college after Spring Break, but the last week had passed quickly. Too quickly, he'd sulked to 17. He would be home on weekends, the Android had pointed out optimistically, and they could surely arrange other things as well. But then, what ever phased him? Trunks thought glumly as he packed the last of his belongings.

Being the dutiful son he was, Trunks did as was expected of him, but in truth, he hated it. Classes were boring as hell, and like school had always been for them all, he could not get close enough to anyone to really become friends, lest they learn their secret; he'd never felt that he fit in, anyway.

He'd also wanted to make sure his father and Goten were okay after their mishap, but unsurprisingly, one saw very little of them now. Of course, he'd tried to convince Goten to go with him to college in the past, but it was hopeless, and his starry-eyed attentions had apparently been elsewhere.

He'd spent most of the past week with 17 in his secluded cabin, the reason why the time literally flew by. It had been spectacular, but Saiyans were gluttons in every sense, and 'enough' simply did not compute. The thought made him grin despite himself, being confident that his mother and Goten, the only ones who knew, would keep still.

"Trunks? Are you ready?" his mother's voice called from the hallway.

"Yeah." Trunks zipped his duffel bag closed, hoisting it over his shoulder with his suitcase, and shut his door behind him.

Pleased, Bulma straightened his jacket collar. "Be sure to get in before it's dark."

"I will," Trunks promised, "See you next weekend." He tugged his little sister's ponytail to make her smile, then waved at them. He tossed his bags into his helicopter and jumped in, starting the ignition. The helicopter lifted off, blowing around the grass and trees under it, then disappeared from sight.

Trunks avoided watching the skyline of West City get smaller as the distance grew, but a knot formed in his stomach anyway. For Kami's sake, grow up, a voice much like his father's echoed contemptuously in his head. Though the last time he saw his father, he'd looked stunned and unsure of himself, above all relieved. He hadn't even complained about Goten publicly clinging to him. Perhaps there was a small part of each of them that remained their smaller self, who wished that nothing would change, and sometimes just wanted to be held in protective arms again.

He fixed his eyes on the sky route ahead to change his thoughts, occasionally glancing at the radar signal, then put on some music.

Before long, Satan City University appeared in view. The welcome sign with an outdated photo of Mr. Satan holding up the victory sign always made him crack a smile.

As usual, he arrived at the campus earlier than most others to avoid the last-minute, crowded rush, taking the elevator to his floor. He unlocked his door and turned on the light, tossing his bags into the corner.

His new roommate would not arrive until next week, so Trunks had a little peace. That story was bizarre. As the future heir to Capsule Corp, as well as being considered part of Hercule Satan's family, he enjoyed certain privileges, such as a room to himself. Why the sudden change, no one seemed to know. According to the information sheet he was given, the new guy was a foreign exchange student from a country he'd never heard of, with a name he couldn't pronounce. Trunks only hoped he didn't have any annoying habits, and would be okay with a nickname.

Deciding to take his shower while the stalls were free and call it an early night, Trunks gathered his toiletery basket, thong sandals, towel, and bathrobe. He was about to leave when he thought he felt a presence. He froze and looked around. The only entries to the room were the door and the sixteenth floor window, both which were locked in his absence. He shrugged it off, locking the door behind him, and went to wash up.
*
As usual, Trunks felt refreshed after a long, hot shower. He towel-dried his hair the best he could, as it was growing longer now. In light of recent worries, his mother hadn't had time to cut it. Anyway, 17 preferred it longer, he remembered with a wide smile.

Trading the shower thongs for his slippers, he padded back to his room and changed into his pyjamas. He slid into bed under the covers, leaving on his small reading lamp. He opened his manga, but hesitated at a familiar tingling in his loins. He just had to think of 17.
Dammit... Flustered, he reached for a large, clean towel to place underneath himself, as he would get no sleep otherwise.

Activating his already vivid imagination, he hugged his pillow, caressing himself everywhere as 17 would. After just a few minutes of that, his body screamed with need, making him groan wistfully. Sometimes, when his lustful imagination was strong enough, he could come hard without touching a thing. But it wasn't enough. He wanted him so badly he ached, and right now, he would give anything, anything, if only 17 were there with him now, to do... hell, anything he damn pleased, with the willing slave he would be for him. "Damn you, Juunana," he muttered, his hand reaching between his legs.

Suddenly, strong, sinuous arms and legs closed around him from behind, one hand clamped over his mouth.

Trunks nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart thudding in classic fight or flight mode. Just as suddenly, he gave up either when he realized who it was by the lock of dark hair fallen across his cheek, and the familiar pheromones mingled with a fresh, clean scent.

An amused snicker was muffled in his damp hair. "I debated watching the show first," 17's sultry voice admitted, "I mean, wow... but I couldn't wait. So, is it a surprise?"

Trunks turned to face him, touching him to be sure he was really there, and blinked. "Yes, and the gods heard me!" He threw his arms around 17, kissing him wildly. The Android didn't seem to mind being against the wall on the prison-sized, single bed, but that wasn't a problem for them, either. He kissed the purple-haired demi Saiyan just as heatedly, the two looking as though each sought to devour the other.

Trunks paused for a moment. "You know how many questions I... think can wait til later." His eyes closed to feel 17's warm lips on his throat. Instinctively Trunks pulled him on top of him, trapping him between his legs to writhe beneath him, panting with need. The small sounds he made when 17 touched him for real sounded as though he were in pain, and he was a bit too hurried for 17's taste.

"Not so fast," 17 whispered huskily, unable to help a sadistic thrill at watching the younger demi Saiyan squirm, "The fast and furious part's for later... and we have time," he added mysteriously. His tongue licked the side of his throat, making him shudder with longing.

"But what...?...how?" Trunks closed his mouth, preferring 17's kiss to his explanation.

"I'll tell you later," 17 replied with equal mystery, "Right now, other things have priority." He moved Trunks' hand between his legs, where he could feel 17's throbbing hardness through his jeans. Trunks rubbed it in wonder as always, his mouth watering at the single thought of ridding them of their barrier of clothing. His hands caressed 17's chest, so fond of his signature shirts and bandana, but now hastily tugged the shirts out of his jeans and over his head, leaving his red bandana in place, while 17 effortlessly peeled off his PJ's. His belts and jeans were more difficult, but 17 slid nimbly out of them with a feline gracefulness.

"Your spirit animal is definitely a cat," Trunks mumbled into his silken, ebony hair, "So graceful." Softly he caressed the satiny skin of his back, his shining blue eyes dilated black with yearning. "I'll make you purr." He kissed 17 hard, feeling his amused smile. "I know that sounds dumb," he added hastily, "You know what I mean."

"Nah. You know I love when you tell me your thoughts." 17's eyes glinted in the semi-darkness. "I think I see what you need now." He seized a handful of Trunks' own silky hair, yanking it roughly.

"Nice kitty," Trunks sighed happily, knowing what the gesture meant: My slave. As worked up as he was, he could well have spent himself already, except he knew the best was yet to come, in every sense of the unapologetic pun.

17 yanked his hair again, this time forcing his head between his legs. Without hesitating, Trunks' tongue lashed his pulsing manhood from its thick base to its sensitive, weeping tip, knowing all the right places to send him into a tailspin. Placing his hands on his hips, Trunks' tongue worked its way up its pulsing underside, around his circumcised ridge, and more gently over the tip, beautifully formed like a perfect samurai helmet. Then down again... then back up.

His usual cool façade shattering, 17 was panting shamelessly, his head thrown back in rapture. How could someone with no experience prior to himself be so talented? he wondered again, as he had since their first time. Technically, 17 could have a mind-blowing climax without making a sound, moving a muscle, or altering his breathing, but Trunks liked for him to be vocal and expressive. Other times, he understood 17's wish to simply close his eyes and enjoy it. He did as well sometimes, it was all a question of mood.

Not for the first time, Trunks wondered to himself if such an act should be so enjoyable. It alone did not necessarily determine dominance or submission, but the pleasure he brought him in such an intimate way. If 17 were a girl, or equipped as such, it would change nothing for him but technique, being no less fun and sexy.

At just the right time, Trunks engulfed him into his sucking mouth, his hand busy with what would not fit, and gave him his best.

What began as ecstatic sobs from 17 turned to small, pleasured groans, other times blissful silence. He alternated among cruelly yanking Trunks' hair, clawing at his back, and caressing them both. Damn, he was good... his contractions built wonderfully, from tingling little sparks to a crescendo of uncontrollable convulsions of pleasure, the muscles in his thighs clenching and unclenching of their own will. Almost, almost... dear gods... When it was time, his body stiffened and his mind was void. A collision of heaven and nirvana took place in his own loins in Trunks' waiting mouth, then he was still, lost in euphoric afterglow.

17 felt Trunks lay him down on his pillow to kiss him softly, holding him and petting his silky black hair. His arms closed lightly around his lover, stroking him approvingly. It was not that the Android needed such a rest, it simply felt nice.

"Y'know, I meant what I said. You are good," 17 commented lazily, playing with his almost dry hair, "Tell me, did Goten give you pointers?" He smirked at the face Trunks made.

"After bragging about losing his virginity before me," Trunks recalled, "Twice. That is messed up. But like I said, no offense, but some things I really don't want to know."

17 snickered. "I hope he didn't interrogate you too much about us."

"He was practically ready to inject me with truth serum," Trunks said flatly, but smiled. "Let's just say, I could tell he was mentally taking notes."

17 smiled proudly, but Trunks didn't notice, his hands and mouth busy teasing him back to full excitement.

"You do know what you're asking for?" 17's eyes narrowed with a dangerous edge to his voice that made Trunks shiver with excitement.

"I want more notes," Trunks insisted, his eyes closing when 17's tongue slid seductively into his mouth.

"Notes gotta be earned." 17's hands expertly played his body like a virtuoso plays a violin, indeed bringing some nice, melodious sounds from him. He paused at his nipples, changing from gentle strokes with his thumbs to pulling them, sometimes gently, sometimes cruelly. Trunks was panting, almost near a strange climax, when 17's lubricated finger slowly worked its way to his quivering prostate.

Trunks moaned in pleasured surprise, gripping at 17. "Yeah, there. Please," he added hastily.

"I like your good manners," 17 commented approvingly, his slanted blue eyes gleaming with renewed lust, "I like when you're bad, too. But tonight I want you to be good."

"I wanna be," Trunks slurred, his eyes almost crossing when a second digit was added, "But I like your punishments, too."

"Really? Like what?" 17 asked, purposely slowing his fingers.

Trunks clawed at the sheet. "I like when you tie me up and whip me," he began, "Then fuck me silly, and tell me all the things you wanna do to me... nice details. I like to scream for you to stop, but you know I want it more than anything." His reply pleased 17, but he scowled. "That's pathetic, isn't it?"

"Why? It doesn't hurt nobody, and we like it," 17 reasoned, adding a third finger to insistingly circle his already contracting magic place, "Or should I say, it gets us off like nothing else. Doesn't it?" Trunks only clutched harder at the sheet, his eyes beginning to water. "Doesn't it?" 17 insisted, his fingers pressing harder into his prostate.

"Yes!" Trunks nearly sobbed, "17, please!" He was so near climax his whole body was trembling, and only by sheer lust he dared to reach back to put an arm around 17's neck with a deep French kiss and an expression so beautifully slutty, the Android decided to indulge him.

"Hm..." 17 glanced around their environment, then smiled. With the Red Ribbon issued ki resistant cord he knew would be useful someday, he bound Trunks' crossed wrists to a bar that held his bed up, then slid underneath him so that his legs were astride him. The demi Saiyan could not free himself now if he tried his best. He picked up Trunks' wooden hair brush, considering it thoughtfully. Trunks' wide blue eyes shone in questioning wonder, but 17 put it aside for the time being. "Why don't you ride my cock," he told him in a low, sexy voice, "I'll decide what to do to you."

Trunks wasted no time doing just that, slowly at first, though as desperately horny as he was, not wincing as much as usual before impaling himself hard, trying to rub his rigid length against 17, who wouldn't let him yet. His sensations built almost cruelly, and Trunks could not hold back his ecstatic groans and cries.

Their noise would probably be covered by the awful, booming music next door, whose type was made indistinguishable by the bass, 17 figured; if not, who cared? Usually he himself was not so vocal, but that night, he made an exception for their benefit. Trunks caught on with a smirk, and both exaggerated their pleasured exclamations, the bed slamming nicely against the wall to their rhythm. There was something quite exciting about that.

First 17 took the brush and gently brushed out Trunks' nearly dry, messy hair, his other hand tracing softly in its path. Lulled by a surprising mix of both an innocent and a dirty sort of pleasure, Trunks' senses were reeling, near overload.

17 himself ready to burst with the contracting tightness of his heated sheath along the whole length of his rigid manhood, his pleasure was doubled at seeing how Trunks was moved to ecstasy, just for him. Pleasure, pain, or nothing at all but pleas for more, 17 controlled him totally. The way they complemented each other's needs was staggering, and brought them closer than they'd been aware, at first.

Seeing Trunks' hair gleaming silkily now anyway, their desire rose to a fever pitch, and 17 used the wooden paddle on the back of it to firmly strike Trunks' ass. The demi Saiyan's eyes widened, then he was struck again, and again. While it stung terribly and would certainly leave red welts, it drove Trunks' excitement over the edge and he rode him harder, crying out incoherently. The combination of being whipped, fucked hard, and bound at once drew Trunks nearer to climax with each delicious second, the sight and feel of his reactions making 17 sure they could go on all night once again.

The bass next door was finally lowered, but a pulsing, sensual beat added to their excitement and drove them on furiously.

"Oh God 17... I'm g-- uhn!" Trunks' head was thrown back, and 17's eyes nearly revulsed to the back of his head.

"C'mon... give it to me," 17 growled, his eyes glowing red. His warm hand clasped Trunks' aching arousal and pumped it in time to their thrusts with an electrified touch from his palm, then both of them went for broke. Trunks turned Super Saiyan by the force of their climax, surrounding them with his golden glow. Whether it was heaven, nirvana, or both, this time they were sure that it collided to explode in their loins and spread throughout their very beings, corporal and etheric. The explosion of pleasure united them in some mysterious way, they knew, before they went limp.

17 freed Trunks from his bonds, and he collapsed with his head on 17's shoulder, purring softly. Excepting soft petting, they remained motionless for a long time to savor their afterglow. The neighbor must have got the message, as the noise level was reasonable now, but neither of them noticed.

"I'm so glad you're here," Trunks told him, almost shyly now, "How long can you stay?"

"Oh, that," 17 said, as though just remembering, "About your new roommate... don't worry, I don't snore or anything. But you already know that."

Trunks' jaw dropped open. "What? But, this paper I got..." He reached for it on his nightstand. "It says he's a foreign exchange student. Where the hell is... Nobbir'Der?" he pronounced clumsily, "And the name... Iluzal Sipal? Did you just make them up?" He blinked in confusion.

17 smiled enigmatically. "Your mom pulled some strings. Try reading them backwards," he suggested.

Trunks looked again at the paper, and face-palmed. "'Red Ribbon'," he deciphered, "But the name - Lapis Lazuli? It was a semi precious stone used in ancient Egypt, if I remember right, but why that?"

17 held up the medallion around his neck, usually hidden by his bandana, that he'd never spoken of, that carried a small, vivid blue stone. "When you asked about this... my sister has one just like it. Our only memory of who we were is, we had these. And what's engraved on the back." He turned his stone around to reveal the engraved, Lapis. "18's reads Lazuli," he said flatly, "It's all we have of our past."

Trunks frowned, a lump rising in his throat. "Do you think it's the key to who you are?"

"We know it is." 17's face was unreadable.

"Would you like me to call you that?" Trunks asked carefully.

"No." 17 shook his head. "What are they now, but ghosts? Ignorant, defenseless ghosts, that don't live here anymore."

"That's not true. You're everything to me, and you proved it." He held 17 tightly, fiercely protective of him then. His earlier thought was true. Inside everyone was still a small being, who sometimes just needed to be held and reassured, consciently or not.

17 smiled, tucking them under the covers. "I'm the same as always, and now your new roommate. If you want one, that is."

"It's only my wildest dream came true." Trunks grinned, happy since last week, beside himself now. "But, won't you get bored when I'm in class?"

"Nah, I'm enrolled in some classes, too," 17 informed him, taking a folded paper from his jeans pocket to show him.

Trunks studied his schedule in confusion. "What curriculum is that?"

17 grinned back. "You didn't guess? I'm majoring in electives."

For the priceless expression on Trunks' face, 17 wished he had a camera.
*****
~The End~