Author's Notes: For 18's age, she's at least 23. Her real chronological age will be revealed, although I'll say it's not a big plot point, more of a minor detail to build backstory, so the exact number can have leeway. Her fantasy from last chapter will be further explained and expanded on, not just in this chapter.

Gohan kissed 18's lips until he ran out of breath and then some more. There was no going back after this, his first time in bed with a girl. He was going to thoroughly enjoy every second. He was going to make her blush and moan and beg like never before. She was his alone to play with. No on else's.

18's resistance gradually melted, then the tip of her tongue met his in a peculiar new dance. He followed her lead, their kiss becoming a tangle, a strange new, tender battle, and she quickly won thanks to his inexperience. She touched the side of his face, saying, "Let's leave it at that. You should go home before you mother notices."

The flame in him crackled and burned hotter. He again seized her wrists. He growled, "You wish."

"Gohan."

He thrusted his hips against hers. If only her silk shorts weren't in the way, but the warm pressure against his hardened shaft was incredible nevertheless.

"Gohan," she repeated sternly. "This isn't right. You're too young."

He pretended he didn't hear. He thrusted more forcefully, sending a shockwave into her body, giving her a small taste of the power that had destroyed Cell.

Her breath hitched. "I'm serious. Stop."

Didn't that sound familiar. "You want this, don't you? You want me to make you beg no."

"I told you that was only my fantasy, nothing more." She started resisting against his pin and thrusts, the bed's springs squeaking. She was a convincing actor, really convincing.

He held her down with over half his total strength. The feel of her struggling body against his was something else. Amazing. He breathed, "Oh yeah, just like that, 18. You're amazing. Struggle for me. Scream. I love it." A small part of him couldn't believe what he was saying; the rest meant every word. He kissed her neck, inhaled her scent. Her pulse was hot and thumping away as fast as his own. She was ready to be claimed. He leered at her heaving chest. Only her flimsy T-shirt was in the way—an easy obstacle.

"No, don't," she begged. Her struggles intensified, and so the pleasure of his slow humping. "Please. No." Her desperate, needy voice was back.

"Keep begging." He focused energy onto his face, then projected it outward in a burst. Her shirt was blown apart, at last revealing her nice perky breasts. Her nipples were pink and a bit puffy. Gorgeous. Drool leaked from the corners of corners of his mouth. He dug in, kissing, suckling. These were the finest silk pillows in the world, firmer than he had imagined, but the finest indeed. Her nipple was hardening against his tongue. He very gently bit down, and her resistance faltered for a moment.

"Gohan," she moaned, "stop it. Stop. Please."

He responded with the strongest thrust yet, his grip tightening around her wrists. He gave her other nipple a good, long kiss before moving on to the main course, his ultimate prize. His heart palpitated at the thought. A sweat broke out. He glided down her legs a few inches. His insides were a raging inferno as he set his gaze on her shorts.

Her eyes widened fully. "Stop!" Her voice echoed. Then her struggles became real. Her whole body heaved, her legs kicking, her fingers clawing the sheets. She tried to headbutt him.

But Gohan was far too gone, consumed by the fires of lust. In his place was a rabid beast. Energy gathered onto his palms and formed solid bands of golden light. With a mental upward flick, her hands were brought together above her head, bound against the head board. He did the same to her ankles, spreading her legs.

She pleaded, "Don't do this. Please." Her silvery-blue eyes were fearful, angry, and most of all, thrilled. She wanted it, needed it.

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're mine now, 18." His eyes drifted downward.

"Don't!"

An energy burst tore into her shorts. The pieces of silk were slow to fall, unveiling her most private place, a beautiful pink slit-like flower, puffy and slick. Her hair down there was a sparse dirty blonde strip. Her flower twitched in expectation, and so did his shaft.

She winced, blushing exquisitely. "Gohan, you're a sick little fuck."

"It's your fantasy, 18. You wanted it." He closed in on her with his shaft in hand. "And this is my reward for saving the world. Right here." Using two fingers, he spread her delicate petals. Her entrance was tiny, maybe unused by any other boy; he didn't want to ask. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, not sure if he was going to fit.

"Oh god, no." She wriggled in her restraints.

He guided his tip to her entrance, hugged her, and pushed inward with his hips.

She shouted, "No!"

She was hot, wet, tight, squeezing on every inch of his shaft. So good. So perfect. He couldn't speak. He saw blotchy stars, his eyes rolling back into his head. Instinctively, his hips pulled out then slammed back in. Then again. And again. And again, as maniacally and powerfully as he could fuck her without breaking her, his new favorite toy. And with each of his thrusts, she moaned so delightfully, so submissively.

But, like all good things, it didn't last. The build-up in his waist, after fewer than two dozen frantic thrusts, neared his limit. "18," he groaned, "I'm going to—"

"Not inside! Gohan!"

The greatest and most intense pleasure in his life exploded from within his mind and body, and he pumped it all into her spasming flower. The moment only lasted a second or two before his stamina levels tumbled down a precipice. His body went limp as his energy bindings shattered into sparks. He collapsed onto her sweaty bosom, breathing heavily. His eyelids became heavy.

He must've fallen into a dreamless sleep, because the next thing he knew, he was drooling onto the comfiest pillow had ever slept on. He yawned and stretched his arms. The lights were off. The curtains were pulled back and tied. It was still quite dark out.

18, in her gray track suit, was lying next to him above the sheets. "Good morning, Gohan," she said pleasantly with her usual inflection. The clock on her nightstand displayed forty-three minutes past five in dim red digits. Her clock didn't blink constantly.

What happened last night, what he did to her, was fresh in his mind. He had lost all control of himself, similar to when he had fought Cell, and worst of all, he wasn't very guilty at all. It was the best night of his life. He could still feel her struggling body against his, hear her moans and screams. Maybe he really was evil, just like Cell and Freeza. However, after all, it was her deranged fantasy. She had wanted it.

He tried to smile. "Good morning, 18." He tried to joke, "Thanks for not killing me in my sleep."

She returned a more natural smile. "You're welcome, although I was considering doing so, and I easily could have. You lost your blond hair the second you fell asleep."

That reminded him. All it took was a weak grunt and a mental picture of Cell killing Trunks for his golden aura to flare up. The transformation was a tad easier today. He exhaled and asked, "Did you sleep? Do you need to sleep at all?"

"Four hours a night." Lucky her. She said pointedly, "You only slept five and a half."

"Saiyans only need five to six, though a lot more when we're younger."

"And you're not young?"

"I might take a nap later." He swallowed a yawn.

She huffed a breath and laid a hand on his forehead. Her fingers ran through his hair. "You're not going to be young forever. One day you'll grow to your physical limit. One day you'll have gray hair."

Not sure what to say, he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

She softly sighed. "Think carefully, Gohan. Are you serious about this? You and I? Was last night a mistake or do you see me in your future?"

It was an unsettling surprise that he didn't even need to think about it. "I do, 18."

She glanced away. "So you want me to watch you grow old and frail and eventually die while I stay young. You really want me to go through such pain." Half question, half statement.

"Uh…" He shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it."

"Well I have. I don't want to go through that."

Her words were death beams to the chest. Gohan put on a goofy face. "Come on, we'll work something out. We have plenty of time. Maybe medical technology will have a breakthrough."

She looked back at him. Her eyes were warm. "Maybe we already have a breakthrough."

"We do?" He blinked. "Did you read something in a science magazine?"

She touched his cheek, then took hold of his hand. "We have the dragon balls. It only takes one wish. Can you make the wish for me?"

One wish. One selfish wish that the likes of Freeza would make, yet Gohan already knew his answer. He gulped and nodded. "I can."

"Thank you, Gohan." Her eyes closed.

"Anytime."

Several mellow seconds passed, and Gohan's stomach silently rumbled. He kept quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment.

She then said in a bleak voice, "That's not my only wish. I'd like to have my mechanical implants removed as well as my twin brother's. The first is a spinal implant at the base of my neck, which functions as a deactivation switch and a kill switch. The other is a digital-neural interface inside my brain; it grants me a computer interface in my eye sight and access to a database of files; it also gives me an urge to destroy and kill, which I have to constantly resist. Krillin's wish only removed the bomb inside my chest. Surgery is too risky."

Two words echoed between Gohan's ears. Kill. Switch. He stiffly nodded. "I'll make the wish. I'll do everything I can. I promise."

"Thank you, again."

He swallowed a lump. "Why haven't you asked someone to make this wish before? It's been five years. What if someone activated your swi—" He couldn't finish the sentence.

She spoke flatly, "I asked Krillin, and he asked Bulma for her radar, but the dragon balls were still inactive at the time. By the time they were active, my relationship with Krillin was long over, and Bulma never trusted me to begin with. We were never on friendly terms. I believe her son from the future had some words with her. I think she wants my kill switch to stay exactly where it is."

That made sense. It was disappointing, but it made complete sense. Was it Bulma's fault? Or was it Trunks's? Gohan took deep breaths and did all he could to not hold it against them. Trunks must've endured unspeakable horrors in the future, courtesy of Gero and his creations; it was only natural for Trunks to be cautious.

Gohan said, "Then I'll get the radar from her first thing today. We'll have all seven balls by midnight."

"I like the sound of that." She smiled.

His stomach grumbled, audibly. "Right after breakfast."

Her eyes rolled.