Author's Notes: the latter half of this chapter contains a sex scene
Lord of Destruction.
Gohan still could not believe what he had agreed to, but he had foreseen that Cus would be gone for several hours, maybe days at least, before she would return with a godly training regimen. There was little to do while waiting. His muscles still ached from yesterday's workout, and the falling snow was now a borderline blizzard. He hated training under heavy snowfall.
But 18 had insisted to not laze about.
Right now, he faced 18 from a hundred yards away, knees bent, charging a Kamehameha. As she pushed her arms forward, so did he, and their beams collided midway. Bluish-white energy warred against ocean blue laced with silver. Falling snow and ice mounds vaporized. Pulsating light seared Gohan's retinas, leaving flashing afterimages. Muscles in his arms were screaming in pain for him to stop, but he did not relent. He maintained a stalemate while she kept upping the intensity and nudging forward only to be nudged back.
After a minute and a half, once again, she was the first to give in, a rightward dash. His beam missed her leg by a safe margin to spare. She lied down with arms and legs spread wide. Her chest rose and fell a dozen times before she sat up; just like that, her energy reserves were fully recovered, unlike him.
He sat next to her, sweat re-freezing all over his body. Snow piled onto his head and melted in his aura's heat. "How about we call it a day? I'm starving." They had skipped lunch.
"Keep going." Her fingers grasped his. "You said you'd push yourself. You haven't even transformed into your second Super Saiyan yet."
"Tomorrow." He wanted to say in three or four days. There was plenty of time.
"Figures," she huffed. "I told you your weights were too heavy."
"I'm fine." He massaged his calf muscles, which were almost pain-free. "And if I train in the second level, I'll have to use four-ton weights."
"But will you have the stamina for the entire workout?"
He rubbed tendons by his armpits; those were quite sore. "I can start with three tons. No big deal. And what about you? Still aching?"
"Not so much, not nearly as bad as you are. I'm not sure, but I think my body can hold a tiny bit more divine energy now."
Divine energy—the power of the highest gods. Of creation and destruction.
He nodded. "Your Kamehameha is getting powerful."
"Were you going all-out to push mine back?"
"I was holding back by about half." Meaning she had matched a quarter of his maximum power, impressively.
She sniffed petulantly. "Am I ever going to catch up to you, oh great Super Saiyan?"
He was going to answer definitively, but her words reminded him that he was assuming Saiyan biology. She was neither Saiyan nor fully Human, something else entirely, something not designed by nature. What if Gero had designed her cells with a low predetermined limit? That wouldn't be very smart, and Gero was undeniably a genius, so Gohan assumed the best: "If Cus said you can be a candidate, you will catch up. We'll stay for the entire year if you need, but once I master Super Saiyan Two, that's pretty much it for my training in here."
In a half joking half serious tone, she remarked, "Is there no Super Saiyan Three?"
"I don't know." He had thought about this many times. He had meditated a few times during the past years but hadn't sensed anything deeper than the second level. Maybe there was, just too far out of reach. Or maybe being a half-Saiyan limited his potential, and this very thought was excruciating to entertain. It wasn't Mother's fault.
"Gohan," 18 gently said, "what are you thinking?"
He was tempted to shrug it off. "I'm a half-Saiyan. What if my potential is only half of my father's?"
18's head tilted slightly. "It is possible; however, genetics is much more complicated than that. I haven't read much about the science, though it's amazing how similar Humans and Saiyans are. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're the same species minus the tails." She covered a yawn and stood. "Gohan, let's stop fussing over things we don't yet know. Just push yourself to your limits as you promised."
"Alright." He cleared his mind of anything fussy, jogging back to the entrance building, his aura leaving a trail of water that refroze within seconds. This wasn't even the coldest it could get.
Warm air enveloped them as they stepped onto stone; the entrance building's magic shielded from the weather to a limited extent, but the pipes could still freeze, annoyingly. And the beds' sheets were thin—all part of the training, conditioning for the mind, body, and spirit.
Gohan boiled five big pots of water, dumping in plain round noodles, while 18 prepared a lamb broth, starting with finely chopped onions, ginger, and garlic simmering in lamb stock and coconut oil. They cooked in silence, and soon the kitchen was full of warm aroma and he was slurping noodles by the bowl. Her lamb broth was flavorful, although not as scrumptious as Yamcha's chilly beef. Tasty enough. He could get used to this, his life partner cooking with him every dinner.
She was staring at him, adorably puppy-eyed. Very cute.
He briskly chewed and swallowed. "18, why are you looking at me like that? Is it because you want to take off your clothes?" She had put her track suit back on due to the weather; he wasn't a heartless master, really the opposite.
"Hmph." She rose to her feet in an alluring way, then unzipped her jacket and untied her pants. She began folding them into neat bundles. "I was actually wondering what kind of Lord of Destruction you'll be. How are you planning to do the job?"
"Oh." His eyes unfocused. He shrugged. "I'll just follow Cus's advice. And Lord Beerus if he can fit it into his sleeping schedule."
"Good thinking. I'm glad your ego is in check."
"I'm kind of overwhelmed, to be honest." He feebly chuckled. "It's all so sudden. I'm trying to not think about it about too much."
She unstrapped her sandals, placed them against the wall, bending over, showing off her lovely thigh gap. Her finger twirled the knot on her bikini bottom as she asked, "Then why did you say yes?"
"Because you did," he said in a lower voice, "and I'm not letting my prize for saving the world run off into space. You belong to me, don't forget that."
Minor offense lifted her eyebrows by a tinch. "What if I do try to run off?"
He kept his expression and voice controlled: "You know what I'll do. Now, take your bikini off, sex slave. All off." He had waited too long for this.
Most sensibly, she obeyed, first unclasping the bikini top, setting free those perky pillows that he loved to sleep on. Her hips swayed. Her palms glided down her torso. A blush tinged much of her skin pink as she undid knots at her hips. The thick fabric fell to her ankles, and for the thousandth damned time, she covered her crotch. Maddening.
He warned, "Move your hands." He patted the chair next to him. "Sit."
After sitting with her legs crossed, she moved her hands. Her expression was on the impish side, but her blush reddened in anticipation. Her toes curled tight.
His mouth watered and not because of the half-full pot of simmering broth. He shuffled his chair closer—a front row VIP seat. "Spread your legs. Put your feet on the chair."
She scoffed. Inch by inch, the space between her knees increased. Her sparse strip of sandy-blonde hair came into view, followed by her milky smooth thighs, and at last her pink, puffy slit flower. And as ordered, she brought her feet to the chair's front edge, giving him a full view. She winced and looked away. "Happy?"
Drool trailed off his chin. "Perfect."
"This is your grand prize? My pussy?"
Pussy. What a funny name for her private plate. "Yeah. Your flower and the rest of you. Mind, body, and spirit. Now do your pleasuring technique. Masturbate to your fantasy."
"What fantasy?"
"You know. Don't play dumb."
Shit bit her bottom lip. Her right hand jittered on the way toward her flower. She started by spreading her petals and playing with her cute little hooded nub. Her eyes closed. Her middle finger stroked stroked the length of her slit, and she licked her finger. This was the greatest show in the universe, and Son Gohan was the only one watching, the way it should be.
Her breaths deepened. She softly moaned, "No, this isn't right." But her strokes slightly quickened. "Please, don't. No, please. No. Gohan, don't." Her finger toyed with her entrance, and she fondled her breast.
"Yes," Gohan breathed, "just like that." He ridded himself of clothing, tossing his pajamas aside. His shaft was already engorged. He stroked himself in rhythm with her.
Her eyes peeked for a moment, meeting his predatory stare for a split second, and she mewled in reluctance, hesitating for real, but she didn't completely stop touching herself. She picked up tempo over a two slower minutes. Then her stokes grew vigorous again. "No," she said strongly. Her nails left marks on her breast. "No." The tip of her finger penetrated, 18 shouting, "Stop! No!"
All restraint evaporated in Gohan's raging heat. He could no longer watch. His body seemed to move on its own, his hands seizing her thigh and wrist.
Inhaling sharply, 18 jolted out of her fantasy. "Gohan! What are you—"
His shaft plunged into her. It was just as he remembered: hot, wet, tight, maybe tighter than the first time. He pulled out two-thirds and slammed back in. So good. The pleasure of being inside her wasn't comparable. If he were a sword, then she would be his custom-made magical sheath designed by a god of pleasure and lust. There was nothing improper or wrong about this. He was supposed to be ramming into his sexual toy, claiming her.
"Gohan," 18 exhaled. "Look at me."
He gazed into her dilated pupils. She was begging for more, so he thrusted inside a third time, slower but with more force, and a moment of bliss parted her lips. He kissed her while he thrusted again twice as hard, then again, and again, but she still somehow managed to gain advantages over his tongue. Frustration ended the kiss.
She was smug.
He began fucking her in earnest with energy focused into each thrust.
Her eyes bulged. "Gohan, slow down."
"Beg." He increased his tempo, pumping into her after every thump of his heart. The build-up in his waist approached his limit far quicker than he had assumed. He lost all control, the encroaching climax taking over better sense. There was no civility left.
Her nails dug into his skin. "Not inside."
"Louder." He was a dozen or so thrusts away from the great finale.
Then she groaned, "Do you want to be a daddy? You've already risked it once."
That got through. He yanked himself away just before the pleasurable build-up ruptured in both his mind and waist. Thick white cream geysered up his shaft, squirting onto her breasts and face, some on her lips. She licked it, and although that single action was greatly arousing, he was completely spent. His whole body throbbed, suddenly sore again.
She laughed, "You coward. Afraid to be a daddy, like any other guy."
The insult bounced off his skull. He huffed. "How are you going to train if you're going to be a mommy?"
Her eyebrow arched. "Did you even know how babies are conceived just then? Be honest."
"I had a rough idea." He shrugged. "Okay, maybe I didn't. I wasn't thinking about that."
"Of course you weren't!" She laughed louder, manically.
Leaning against the wall, he shook his head. He would take mocking laughter over tearful sadness any day. Her unique girly mind was as fun to play with as her body. He sauntered to the washroom, done for the day.
Tomorrow was going to be hard.
Author's Notes: I'm going to leave this story on hiatus for a while to let my outline further stew. I'll probably pick it back up sometime around the next DBS manga chapter. All feedback/ideas appreciated.