Control
The Fourth Song of /Anthology/
A TrunksxGoten Songfic Set to /Control/, by Puddle of Mudd
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Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z. I hope this is rather obvious. I do not own /Control/ or Puddle of Mudd. I hope this is likewise obvious. I am using both without permission. I am making no profit of any form.
Warnings and notes: This piece is a songfic. The lyrics are /Control/, by Puddle of Mudd (from their CD /Come Clean/). It is the forth in the /Anthology/ series and the previous parts should be read first. It contains angst, yaoi, explicit language, the naming of sexual actions, and generally dark subjects. You have been warned. I appreciate reviews (swiftskyes@hotmail.com), be they critiques or a general good/bad word. Enjoy.
Begun 10.16.01
Completed 1.9.02
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This is the last time I'm going to write. This is the end of the story, fourth and final. Same laptop, same document. I even put music on, a CD that Trunks gave me. The only different thing is the setting because this time the room I'm in isn't just mine.
I've reached the end of this old story and am beginning a new one. The new story, the new book, that one I won't write down. I don't even need to be writing now – it's not like I have anything urgent to say. It's just that knowing this document was sitting there, unfinished, well, it was driving me mad. So I'm writing to complete it – both for my benefit and for yours, non-existent reader.
So here's the end of the story.
//I love the way you look at me
I feel the pain you place inside
You lock me up inside your dirty cage
Well I'm alone inside my mind
I'd like to teach you all the rules
I get to see them set in stone
I like it when you chain me to the bed
Well then your secrets never show//
Our relationship has finally reached completion. The hell I went through, all of it, that was the birth, the growth, the formation. Now it's complete.
Basics first. We need each other. We are violent. We control each other. We play games. And, God, is there love.
The need. We're tied to each other and I honestly don't think we would be able to survive on our own. When he goes on long business trips, now, I go with him. Days away is ok, and the sex is wonderful when we're together again, but much more than that and I start to go crazy. I don't know how he handles it, but judging from how he acts when he comes home he appears to miss me too.
The violence. It was born during our second time together and has now become firmly rooted brutality. It's not an everyday thing. We go days, weeks even – well, we did once – without so much as hitting each other. We are violent, though. Just about every sparring session ends up with us screwing the living daylights out of each other. Each time we have sex there is an element of violence. It's just part of our relationship. I guess you could say it comes naturally to us.
The control? That's an interesting story. He's always controlled me, always and always. Now I have power over him too. I can make him beg. I can tease him until he breaks. I can hurt him. I can make him bend and change and become what I want him to be. After all, I was the one that brought out his soul, wasn't I?
A game – that's exactly what it is. We play this game, battle to control. Wherever we are and no matter who's around us, we play it. What it is, exactly, depends on our circumstances. I'll talk about it in detail soon, but not yet – this is just the basics.
So then, love. As always, of course, I still love him. I can now write with complete and utter certainty that he feels the same about me. Trunks loves me. I know he does. I know it. Don't you see – I did it. My whole life all I've really wanted was Trunks' love and now I have it. There's no magical soul-mate connection, we still act as separate beings, but we love each other.
So, in the end, it's not perfect. Trunks is still locked away from the world. We fight. We're violent. We're generally unaccepted. It works, though. For us it works. We have each other, the love it there, and for our entire lives we're promised to each other. It's not perfect but we don't really care. Trunks and I, we've made it. We're complete now.
//I need to feel you
You need to feel me
I can't control you
You're not the one for me no//
I said before that it's more that just want – it's need. I was right. I need to be with Trunks. When I'm with him, even when I'm not controlling him, when I can just feel him there, there's this sense of completion. When I'm apart from him too long, just a few days, everyday things start to seem hollow and unimportant and all I can think about is the next time I'll be with Trunks again. Call me an addict, call me whatever you want, all I know is that I don't ever want to be apart from him. If I'm going to function at all, then I can't be away from him.
Now, Trunks needs me too. He's almost always there and when he leaves he always comes back, and that's proof enough. Then there are the things he does for me and the things he says to me, all things that wouldn't happen if he didn't need me by his side. He pulled me out of the community college and is paying for me to attend the same college he's at – he's graduated from high school –so that we can share a dorm room. He buys me things, gifts and so forth. He takes me on dates. Best of all, and the most important thing too, is that he's stayed with me for my entire life. No one would ever stay with me for over 18 years unless he needed to, and no one would promise his forever to me unless he needed to. Trunks needs me.
Part of the need we feel is a need to dominate.
I am, by nature, uncontrollable. I almost never give up, I rarely submit, I find it difficult to back down. Trunks is the same way. I think our bloodlines, human mothers and saiya-jin fathers, are what makes this come so naturally. We can't be controlled and we long to control, so we fight. Sparring or dominating, even intentionally causing pain, all of it control. It satisfies our need.
Non-existent reader, I know you think we're both crazy. That's a reasonable conclusion and I'd be lying it I said it wasn't true. You think that people as violent and sado-masochist as we are should never be together, simply for safety's sake. Well, you're right. However, Trunks or I don't give rat's ass what you think. Too bad for you, huh? So it's not perfect, not by your standards. Suffer. So you think it's wrong. Your problem, not mine. So you doubt my sanity. Good for you. So you think we don't belong together. You're not the only one. I'm happy, he's happy, and if society damns us, well, we're going to hell anyway. We'll never stop what we're doing now, no matter what anyone does or says. Simple.
We're happy.
//I can't control you
You can't control me
I need to feel you
So why's it evil//
I've never had complete control over Trunks. He can't be controlled. On the same note, however, Trunks can never completely control me. When someone wins our game, the victory is sweet but short lived because the next time we play the slate is wiped clean and anyone can win. Trunks is the dominant in our relationship, so he's often the top and he has "control," at least in the way most people would define it. The uke, though, the submissive, he does have power. That combined with my natural refusal to be controlled by anyone gives me the power to control him too, even while he fucks me. It's hard to explain. I'll try to, when I get there. I'm sure you're anxious to hear about it. Point is, I have just as much control as he does.
You have to remember that we don't do this just because we want to. We also do it because we need to. I'm 18 now, he's 19, and we're at the height of our saiya-jin sex drives. If we didn't fuck the way we do, so often, so hard, our hormones would just go berserk. Regular, normal, human sex just wouldn't be satisfying enough and, trust me, an unsatisfied teenage saiya-jin is a frightening thing. If you had seen us on the night of the day I wrote last time, when Trunks and I found somewhere secluded, then you would know what I'm talking about. The saiya-jin lust is really something. Now that I've found Trunks, I seemed to get even more horny every day. I used to wonder how Vegeta and Dad could stand it, trapped as they are by human females. I know now, but that's part of the story that I'll get to later.
Anyway, getting back to my point, no matter how strange you think we are just remember that we need it.
Sure, it's probably immoral, wrong, whatever. It breaks every rule that any good, healthy society would ever create. I'm talking about real violence here. More than some roughness and a tear to my ass. This is more than just one cracked rib. This is a few cracked ribs, a fractured bone or two, dislocations, huge abrasions, bruises that doesn't fade for a week, cuts that stream with blood. Actual, real violence. When a human would tie his partner down, we knock each other to the floor. When a normal human like you would slap your partner, we hit each other. /That/ is violence.
Aren't you were glad you were born completely human, my dear non-existent reader?
//I love the way you break my skin
I feel the hate you place inside
I need to get your voice out of my head
'Cause I'm the guy you'll never find
I think you know all of the rules
There's no expressions on your face
I hope that someday you will let me go
Release me from my dirty cage//
So. The game we play. I guess I'll just get that part over with. I'm not entirely sure where I plan to go with this final part chapter, but I know that no matter what I say our game will be an essential part.
It is violent. Understand that fact and accept it. It's important and it's the basis of everything we are. We are violent. We do hurt each other. We take pleasure in it, too. We love it.
Violence may not seem like something that you should inflict upon a loved one. But we're both half-breeds, both half saiya-jin, and for us it comes naturally. All of these opposites are really very, very similar. Pleasure and pain, love and hate. The pain is pleasure. Within all the hate that we show each other, there is love. To be honest, sometimes I really feel like I hate him. He infuriates me, he drives me mad. Through all of it, though, I love him more than anything else in the universe exactly like I always have. The same way he comes to the violence I inflict I love him through that hate I feel, and the same is true from him to me.
It's very difficult to explain.
Anyway, our game. I guess I'll simplify it to a single sentence and start from there. The goal, the biggest goal, is to make the other person come while inflicting as much pain as possible. It sounds simple, but it's not. For example, we can't hurt each other so bad that we're out of action for too long even although, God knows, we're capable of it. We usually start out pretty calm, nothing more than light restraint, moderate pain, more mental abuse – teasing, taunting, badgering, that soft of thing. The big stuff, that good stuff, it usually comes later. One of us will be holding the other down and then he'll do his thing. Trunks is quite direct in his violence – he'll grab my hair and pull my head back or twist my arm until the joint disconnects while he fucks me so hard it feels like he's trying to rip my ass to shreds, or he'll choke me as he blows me so that I see twice as many stars. I'm a bit more subtle – I'll make him contort his body into unnatural positions or restrain him, then I'll dig my fingers into his most sensitive flesh and I'll fuck him or ride him or blow him or rim him, whichever I want. Sometimes it's more brutal – bites that break the skin, slaps that cause bruising, muscle tears, one of us will get thrown against the floor and some bone or another will crack.
Pain combined with pleasure, that's the rule. Remember, though, rules are created to be broken. Sometimes the pleasure for the submissive gets forgotten and it becomes rape. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. All I can say is that it's a necessary evil. You get used to it.
The game also has a less physical, out of the bedroom side. We fight. We piss each other off. He implies these cruel messages – he hates me, he can't stand being with me, I sicken him, so forth. If we can get beneath the other's skin, really irritate him, well, that sure as hell is power if there ever was any. It's also a test. If I really love him then I'll know it's not true and I'll stay with him no matter what we says. I do. I'll never leave.
For all that he says, I do know that he loves me because he tells me he does. He doesn't say it very often. We aren't soft and emotional like that. Even when we aren't actively playing our game we're not whispering sweet, pointless words of love. Sure, I tell him I love him all of the time. On the rare occasions he says it to me it's even more important than it would be if I heard it every day. When he does express that emotion I treasure his words.
Well that's our game, raw and ungilded. Violence is the key, violence and control, amidst the love we have for each other. We're a couple of sick bastards who get off on pain. What excuses can I make? Actually, there is one. We're saiya-jin half-breeds.
If I was reading this story right now, I would want to know how things ended up this way. So I guess I'll tell that next – everything that's happened since I wrote last.
//I need to feel you
You need to feel me
I can't control you
You're not the one for me no//
Where did I leave off? Yeah – Trunks called from the plane, already on his way home, I finished up my writing in a hurry and rushed out to the airport with his family – not Vegeta, though, because Bulma couldn't make him – and my mother because she was at Bulma's place at the time. When he stepped into the airport, carrying his laptop case and looking, well, like himself, I rushed over. We talked for a second or two and next thing I knew we were making out, there, in the airport, with half the world watching. Then we went to his house, sat through hellos and a meal, and finally we escaped to his room and fucked each other. He was happy to see me too, by the way.
News got out, of course. Started slowly, I bet, because I'm sure no one in Trunks' family or mine was anxious for people to know. It was a full airport, though, and Bulma's never been able to keep her mouth shut for very long. In the end we didn't need to tell anyone about our relationship because most everyone knew. I did take the pleasure of telling a few people – I couldn't pass up the opportunity to claim Trunks as mine. A lot of people nodded like they already knew and they did. It wasn't too big of a surprise.
I felt like things were going pretty well. Trunks was back and he was actually changing. Really, actually changing, and God was I happy. Granted, it wasn't much. Above all, he was becoming more possessive of me every day. That was when the control game started. We were in the middle of another session of wild monkey saiya-jin sex, and, well, one thing led to another and somehow we ended up rolling across my living room floor, pinning each other and taking advantage of the situation when we could. It was a pale shadow of what we have now but it was the beginning. From that day on it grew, inconsistently, a little some days and a shitload the next, until it reached what we have now. But I'm jumping ahead of myself.
What seems strange, in retrospect at least, was that I didn't completely approve of us at the beginning. It was to be expected that others would disapprove, but after wanting him for so long I'm amazed that I did too. My mother caused my doubt. She's a human and so I was born and raised here on Earth, and that made me think that our game, even at its first stages, was sick. Sick, disgusting, wrong. Humans aren't violent like that, humans aren't control freaks like that, and I was raised to be a human.
For a moment I really doubted our relationship and whether I should've been with Trunks at all.
Remember, though, how I had planned not to think things through? Well, I followed that. I refused to think about it, I refused to think about the past and I refused to worry about the future. The moment was what I concentrated on, and like I had promised to do I lived for it.
I let myself love.
Not everyone looked at it the way I did, though. We found out real quick that people don't approve of us. I couldn't make them see it my way – that's one kind of control I didn't have.
//I can't control you
You can't control me
I need to feel you
So why's it evil//
The first one to confront me, the first one to have the guts to actually say something to my face rather than behind my back was my brother. He knew about Trunks and me because by then everyone knew about Trunks and me. People all over the world were hearing rumors about the future president of that Japanese company Capsule Corporation and his boyfriend.
So we were having dinner at my parent's house, the whole family – my grandpa, Mom, Dad, Gohan and Videl and Pan, and me. At one point, while the females were in the kitchen, talking instead of doing the dishes, and Dad and Grandpa were in the living room, Gohan pulled me aside.
"It's Trunks, isn't it?" he asked me, and I nodded. "It was him from the very beginning?" he asked. It was obvious, but I nodded again anyway.
Videl had been the one to tell him, many days before, and then Pan had brought home some interesting rumors that compounded the situation. He stumbled over the words – argumentative, angry, public, violent. He was concerned for me, the classic worried big brother. He was cautious and careful and trying not to jump to conclusions but doing so spectacularly. God, it pissed me off.
I told him his daughter's contacts had been right – we were violent. Quite violent, actually, is what I told him, even going so far as to brag about our dirty little relationship. "You should see us inside of the bedroom," I said. "The shock'd kill you."
Gohan looked stunned and I can't really blame him. I'm normally not that brutal in my honesty and I'm normally that vulgar around my family members. He stared at me, standing there in the hallway of our parents' house, then he told me, "It sounds like an unhealthy relationship."
Yeah. I most certainly didn't appreciate that comment. I told him, "Look, Gohan, I know I can't convince you that it's not a bad thing. I'm sure you've made up you mind and nothing I say will change it. But, you see, I love Trunks – I really do – and nothing you say will be able to change me either. So just piss off, Gohan, because there's nothing you can do to stop me. You helped me once, and I'm thankful, but I don't want your advice any more. Just leave us alone." I smiled, and turned, and left the hallway.
That was when I knew for sure that I wasn't going anywhere. What I mean to say is that I recognized I would stay with Trunks for as long as and longer than he would have me. The little doubts I had, my fears, they were no longer important. I needed Trunks. I've always know that I loved him, unconditionally, and after that conversation I knew that regardless of right or wrong I would stay with him, too.
That wasn't the last of the disapproval we encountered. Gohan continued to look down on us and he still does. Some people condemned us simply because we're both guys. Kids we knew, even the ones that didn't mind gays, they would shy away from our loud angry antics.
Not everyone looked down on us. There were some, most of them around our age, that were and are fascinated by us. Maybe they like gays. Maybe they like the look of us two more-attractive-than-most guys together. Maybe, though, they sense our game, our battle, and are drawn to it the same way I was. If that's true, well, those ones would make good saiya-jin.
Anyway, there're some that accept us but they're the exceptions to the rule. The general rule is that people don't approve. On the whole, most people think for a variety of reasons that what we are is wrong – evil, immoral, sinful, so on, so forth. Screw them, I say, and let Trunks continue to screw me.
//You and me//
By this point, about three weeks had passed since Trunks' return. Outside of the bedroom, out there with the rest of the world, our relationship had become what it would be in the end. We fought in public constantly and we were physical – not cuddly physical but /together/ physical, hand on the ass, teeth on the ear, arm around the waist. Like those touchy couples I'm sure you hate but with a rawness that would make you cringe. Inside the bedroom the formation of our game was progressing even faster than it had been before. Every now and then when we were both at our horniest, we would reach the level we have now.
Last time I wrote, while Trunks was still in America, I said we could never have human happiness. I know I didn't really write much about it, I just said that our relationship was too strange for Earth and so the happiness earthlings have would never be ours. As I wrote that, I was thinking about a kind of happiness that was unique to Trunks and me, a happiness that other people wouldn't consider happiness, one that was too extreme – too cold then too impassioned – one too brutal, one too inhuman for humans to accept. By then, three weeks after Trunks' return, I could feel that kind of happiness being born. I can't describe how I felt, sensing the start of it, or how I feel now that it's here. I can't say what it felt like then because I don't know how to describe it. All I can say is that it felt good.
At the same time that happiness was coming, Trunks was becoming himself. His soul was emerging from where he had hidden it, deep within himself. No, he's not soulless. I don't know why – maybe there really is no such thing – he's just not. He has a soul and he has feelings and he has emotions. He doesn't express himself the way everyone else does, that's all. He lives very coldly, calculating everything, judging and weighing before he acts. The emotions he has show themselves rarely and they don't come across the way that most people's emotions do. When they show they're deeper, truer, they have more meaning, and that makes them frightening. Anyway, he has a soul. He has a personality, a cold and careful personality. What he was before, everything that scared me, that's faded, that's been diluted by my hard work, that's been given life, but it's still there. It is his soul.
At the same time I was becoming myself. I stopped being Trunks' slave. I still do things for him, he still has control over me, but I have an attitude now. I don't always submit. I'm more of a consort, now, than a slave. I'm a consort with a hell of an attitude. I think he likes it more that he ever liked my obedience. He has to work to control me – it's a challenge and we both love a challenge.
Us then was the growth to us now. Everything that went on between us, all those changes, it was all the lead up to what we are now. Happiness, what I've always wanted, was coming – just not in the way I had expected.
//I love the way you look at me
I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do
I have control of you//
Anyway, back to the story. I had come to terms with the violence, the brutality, in our relationship. When I reminded myself of my promise not to think, the violence became very easy to live with. /Very/ easy, as in it didn't bother me at all. I lived with it, I enjoyed it, and I loved it too, all without any worry. After being so adverse to it doesn't that seem strange? I noted that strangeness and let it sit there in the back of my head. It didn't bother me either.
Then, about five weeks ago, this theory developed, growing on its own, that explained why it was so easy for me to accept what we were. You see, we're half-breeds, as I keep saying. I figured our relationship was the kid that any saiya-jin would have – one that was brutal, that was violent, one in which the partners fought just like we did.
It explained everything, really. Humans didn't understand or accept us because what we had wasn't human – it was natural to us but not to them. Gohan disapproved because, for most intents and purposes, he's a human. We had the relationship we did because the violence, battle, domination, it's all part of how saiya-jin live. It explained it all. We did it because it was natural. It was in our blood.
For once I can say with honesty that I wasn't an idiot and I can say with certainty that I wasn't wrong.
I brought the idea to Trunks. He didn't really care, I don't think. Trunks is like that. He doesn't question why he's more removed, colder, more calculating than anyone on this planet. He doesn't question the control he has over me and the rest of humanity. In the same way, he doesn't question our relationship. He just accepts it and lives it. But for my sake he pretended to care and pretended to consider it, then he agreed that it sounded possible.
That's not the reason I know I'm right. I mean, he was only getting me to shut up. I know because of something I saw when we were at his house and decided to spar. We wanted to use the gravity room, but when we got there the red light by the door was on. The room was in use. We thought we were alone – we had fucked rather loudly in the kitchen only an hour before so I sure as hell hoped there was no one else around. We went around to the side, looked in a window, and that's how I found out that my theory was right.
//I love the way you look at me
I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do
I have control of you//
The windows are small. The place can get up to a real high gravity and glass breaks easily. Well, anyway, we were both peering in the same too small window and then they came into view. Them – Vegeta and my father. Both of Dad's shirts were gone and his gi pants were ripped across the knee, Vegeta was wearing black spandex and a sleeveless shirt, and for a moment I thought they were sparring. My dad was moving quickly, in jumps, appearing randomly. Vegeta was walking, slowly, his arms crossed. His eyes watched Dad, tracking like a predator. Then he used that same move, super-speed, and appeared up in the air were we could just see his feet.
"They're using the gravity room," Trunks said. I nodded, still watching, and in the seconds while Trunks spoke my father's feet came into view just in front of Vegeta's. Vegeta must have predicted what Dad would do. Well, Vegeta caught Dad – I could tell because what I could see of Dad went stiff in shock and then he tried to kick back – and then they went down, hitting the floor hard, Dad first. Still nothing more than a sparring session. I could tell Trunks didn't want to stand there, watching, so I was about to turn and go. But Vegeta got up on his knees and my father pushed up from the floor, pausing on all fours. They were facing each other, but Dad's head was down. Vegeta said something – I couldn't hear what, of course, though the sound-proofed walls – then grabbed a handful of Dad's hair and then things were too interesting to look away. I whispered Trunks' name and he turned back to the window just as Vegeta pushed his pants down with his free hand and pulled Dad's head over to sit right in front of his impressive hard-on.
We stood there, staring in from the tiny window, as my dad gave Vegeta a blowjob. Then we watched Dad wrestle Vegeta for power. Then we watched my father screw Vegeta's firm tight little ass as Vegeta braced himself against the support beam in the middle of the room. We couldn't see it all because they kept going out of view but we didn't leave until they were lying on the floor, done. It didn't seem to bother either of us that we were watching our fathers go at it. Goku's my dad, yeah, but at the time it wasn't important.
I know my theory's right because of what I saw them doing. They were not very nice to each other. They restrained each other. They forced each other. They were violent, rolling around on the floor, not caring when the other's head was banged, not careful or gentle. It was a lot like Trunks and me only their movements were less frantic teenage sex and more purposeful and more intentional. They were just like us only older, more mature, more experienced.
Vegeta and Goku, my father, are the only pureblooded saiya-jin left in the universe and they showed us exactly what I had predicted saiya-jin were like. It was the perfect support to my theory. So I was right, for once. You know, it's a nice change to not be an idiot. Trunks and I, we are what we are because of our blood. It's right for us, it's natural, and it's the reason why it feels so perfect.
We hid out in his room until we knew they were gone. A few days later, we used the gravity room for our own little training session.
//I love the way you look at me
I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do
I have control of you//
Violence is more than just violence to us.
When his touch on my skin sends signals of pain through my nerves and to my brain, it does this major mind-job on me. Everything looks different, it all feels different. There's more to it. More emotion, more sensation, more of everything, a thousand times more.
Call it what you will – an upper, an aphrodisiac, a turn on – whatever you call it, to us it is. We spar and both of us come out with a hard-on. It makes my heart pound, it makes the blood rush though my veins until I can hear it. All of my senses become over-active, all the sounds and smells and colors and feelings grow. The sex, that it does wonders to. It makes me want it until I can't stand the wait anymore and then it makes me enjoy it more than seems possible.
We love the violence, we love the feeling of control, we even love how it feels to be dominated. When he's under my power it's a rush, an ego-trip, and I want to use him until either his body or his spirit breaks. But to be under his control, well, that's freedom. That sounds impossible, but hear me out. He makes me surrender, he makes me give in, he tears away my boundaries and my inhibitions and tortures me with pleasure. I'm free to live it all when he controls me. I don't have a choice and because of that I'm free.
We love it.
I would shrug, but you, non-existent reader, wouldn't be able to see. There's no excuse. It's just what I am – a creature of the flesh, a sinner, a saiya-jin.
//I love the way you look at me
I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do
I have control of you//
So, interested in hearing what our sex is really like? Regardless of what you would answer if you were real I would share anyway so here it is.
Last night, in our too-small dorm room, we woke the neighbors. We do that all of the time – I know because of the way they pound on the walls while we're at it and the looks we get the next morning. This time, though, it was different.
I was hard at work, using this same laptop, doing homework, when Trunks came home. I called my hello and I kept on working while he dumped his stuff. Then he came up behind me – I was sitting on our single chair, hunched over the computer – wrapped his arms around my waist and whispered into my ear, "I'm gonna fuck you 'til you scream." So I closed the document, shut down the laptop, and put it on the ground.
He pulled me off the chair and I lay on the floor, looking up at him.
Trunks stripped my shirt off first, then pulled my pants down to my ankles. He forced my legs up until my knees touched my ears. No prep, no lube – he took me raw. Try to get a human to do that. A few moments and I was hard, a few minutes and I came, my hands sliding over the carpet and my nails digging into the weave with nothing to hold on to. He didn't stop. He kept going, kept going, making me come again and again. He never lost his erection and he only came once. My legs began to hurt and God was my ass sore. I doubt the bloodstains will come out of the carpet. He pulled out, gave me a few seconds rest, then flipped me onto my stomach and took me again, and again, until I swear I started to run out of semen.
My calls started as pants then became moans, then begging, then cries, and eventually I did scream. I screamed for him to stop. After one last ride, he did.
I slept like I rock last night and I can't quite sit or walk today.
I'm sure that it looked and sounded like some kind of rape, but it wasn't. That's not to say that it never is, but it's rare and it's just as likely to be me on him as it is him on me so in the end it's ok. It wasn't rape that time, though. I mean, I came so many times it hurt. I came until I screamed for him to stop. It was pleasure to the breaking point and that's not rape. It was violent, it was extreme, and my screaming woke the neighbors at some ungodly hour of the night, but it wasn't rape. He had control, all right. Complete and utter control. If he hadn't wanted to stop he wouldn't have. Trunks has stamina. He can go for ages without coming to orgasm and can keep a hard-on after it. He had an hour left in him, give or take. I only had minutes. /That/ is control.
//I need to feel you
You need to feel me
I can't control you
You're not the one for me no//
Look, I understand what you must be thinking: I'm crazy, we're crazy. If we're gonna do what we do, which is disturbing enough on its own, couldn't we do it a little less publicly? You know what I mean – don't be so raucous, don't wake the neighbors, don't cling on to each other in public places, don't share it so frankly with friends and family members, so on and so forth. Can't we just have some tact?
Two weeks ago Vegeta came to Trunks and said those same things.
Vegeta was fairly tolerant of our antics – he gave us a while to prove ourselves before he spoke to Trunks. Trunks told me he started of by generally disapproving of everything we were. How stupid. You see, my Trunks is just as touchy about that subject as I am. You don't dis our relationship in front of either of us, plain and simple.
I love the comeback that Trunks used. He said to his father, all frank and unornamented, "I saw Goku fucking you." Yeah. That blew the cocky Prince's cover to shreds. I mean, he's just as bad as us and we have proof because we've seen it. So, Trunks says, he changed his story real quick and went off about how noisy we are, how everyone knew about us, that the rumors were unpleasant. Then he ordered, that little fuck /ordered/ Trunks to quiet down and keep it under control.
I'm not sure why Vegeta cared what others say about us – he's never had a clean reputation himself. Maybe he was trying to uphold his damn saiya-jin pride. Maybe he cares for his son a little more than he's willing to admit and thinks he knows what's best for Trunks. Maybe he just really likes the money that CC brings in for him to spend. In any case, he was trying to get us to conceal who we are.
Get this, understand this: We have no shame, none at all, about who we are or what we do. There is no pleading, no guilt trips, no begging that will ever make us change our mind. Just give us a break, Goddamnit – we've saved the sorry butts of innocents plenty of times so if we want to fuck each other and let everyone in the world know, we will. Let us have our vice. Even if you don't want it to be true, well, it is and nothing, /nothing/ will ever change it. Not my brother's disapproval or Vegeta's pleading, not what you want us to do, not a thing in the world. If you think the relationship is sick you can shove that news up your ass.
//I can't control you
You can't control me
I need to feel you
So why's it evil//
Well I had a story in here somewhere before I went off on all that so I should get back to it.
For a while more after Vegeta came to Trunks people continued to confront us, continued to openly disapprove of us, continued to try to change us. Yeah, we changed – we got worse. During that time we reached the level we have now and the evolution was complete. Eventually people stopped coming.
All this began during the summer and by this point a new school year was about to start. Trunks pulled a few strings and got me into his college of choice and into his dorm room. Before, we were basically living together – we were always in the same place, spending most nights together at his house or mine or in the woods. Now we're really living together in our small bedroom with the twin beds pushed together.
So, that takes me to where I am now. I'm beginning my first real year of college, I'm living with my male lover, and I'm the center of just about every rumor in the school. Yeah.
No, it's not perfect. Trunks is still cold, we do fight, we are violent, we're not accepted, it is not and will never be perfect. I still have these memories, too, memories of the past – of discovering what I thought was Trunks' soullessness, of running away terrified, of being lonely, of coming home only to have my hopes destroyed, of giving up, of failing, of loneliness that made me go insane, of uncertainty, of everything that got me to where I am now. On top of all that, my human blood still reacts to what I am every now and then, it tries to push me way from Trunks. So, yeah, it's not perfect, and yeah, sometimes I don't think I should be here.
I refuse to give in. Aided by my love for Trunks, its not that difficult. See, I love Trunks, a love that hurts but also because it hurts. I need him too, I need to be with him. Because I love him I forget all the bad things and because I need him I'm blind to the faults in our relationship. I love him and I need him and that will keep me beside him, memories or no memories, forever.
So where am I now? I'm in love with Trunks, living in a cramped little dorm room with him and raising hell. The past is still there and I can never forget it but I'm moving on.
//You and me//
This is how the story ends: I am happy. Not carefree, not at peace, not human happy at all, but happy. You, dear non-existent reader, probably don't understand how a rib that's still healing and an ass that hurts so bad I have to lay on my stomach to write could be happiness but I don't live my life so that you can understand. I'm happy, and that's the end of the final chapter of this story.
I'm sure there's more that I can say. What's going to happen from here on in? Dad's 50 years old now, give or take a few because it's hard to keep track of the years he spent in the Room of Spirit and Time and, well, dead. He still looks like he's at the height of his life and he still acts like he is and I bet he could keep going for a while still. Vegeta said once that saiya-jin have an extended prime and by the looks of it it's true. Even if Trunks and I get half of that we've got a while left. We've got plenty of time together and with our relationship I'm sure there will be plenty to say.
I'm not going to tell that story, though. This is the end. It's over with and there will be no sequel.
I love him with everything that I am and I have forever to show it to him.
However, I don't have forever to show it to you, non-existent reader, because Trunks has come home and is now standing behind me, reading over my shoulder. Hello, love. It's time for me to go – you know what we're like.
//You're not the one for me no
You're not the one for me no
You're not the one for me no
You're not the one for me no//
"Hey."
"Do you write about me often?"
"No. Only a few times. That was the last part – I was just finishing the story."
"Tell me: what is it that you write about, exactly?"
"Hey, calm down. It's about us, our history, everything up to now."
"Ah."
"So, how was your class?"
"Boring, no different than usual. That teacher is hot, though. Almost makes it worthwhile."
"The American one, right? Adams? Yeah. A rear so tight it could kill a guy. I suppose you were going somewhere with that comment."
"Yeah."
"Look, Trunks, my ass hurts so bad I can barely stand. You can't fuck me again today."
"Turn over to your back."
"Why?"
The sound of sudden movement. "Because I said so."
"I swear to God, Trunks, if you dislocate my shoulder I'm gonna kill you."
"Then turn over."
"I don't have the energy for this."
Rustling and the squeak of bedsprings.
"Good. Now keep you arms there, Goten, and don't move."
Shifting of clothing.
"Let's see if you have the energy or not."
Ticking of a clock.
Breathing.
Panting.
"God, Trunks, I swear you've been practicing. Honestly, I didn't think I had it in me today."
Ragged breathing.
"Shit…"
Moaning.
"Fuck, Trunks, just a little bit more."
Near silence.
"Trunks! What the hell – what the hell are you trying to do to me?"
Near silence.
"Just a little – "
Movement.
"Shut up, Goten, and keep your damn arms above your head."
"Please, don't stop."
"Shut up, damnit, or I'll gag you! Do you want me to finish or not?"
Silence.
Stifled moans.
"Tru – T –"
Loud pants.
"Holy shit!"
Silence. The ticking of a clock.
Movement and the groanings of a bed.
"Amazing. Amazing. Trunks, you know, you do know I love you, right? You do know."
"You come once and then you start this? Hn – weakling."
"You do know, right? I live my life for you."
"Yes, little chibi Goten-chan of mine, yes, I know. I love you too."
"I honestly never thought we would get this far, you know. I didn't."
Silence.
Movement and a crash.
"Now it's time for me to repay the favor."
The Fourth Song of /Anthology/
A TrunksxGoten Songfic Set to /Control/, by Puddle of Mudd
- - -
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z. I hope this is rather obvious. I do not own /Control/ or Puddle of Mudd. I hope this is likewise obvious. I am using both without permission. I am making no profit of any form.
Warnings and notes: This piece is a songfic. The lyrics are /Control/, by Puddle of Mudd (from their CD /Come Clean/). It is the forth in the /Anthology/ series and the previous parts should be read first. It contains angst, yaoi, explicit language, the naming of sexual actions, and generally dark subjects. You have been warned. I appreciate reviews (swiftskyes@hotmail.com), be they critiques or a general good/bad word. Enjoy.
Begun 10.16.01
Completed 1.9.02
- - -
This is the last time I'm going to write. This is the end of the story, fourth and final. Same laptop, same document. I even put music on, a CD that Trunks gave me. The only different thing is the setting because this time the room I'm in isn't just mine.
I've reached the end of this old story and am beginning a new one. The new story, the new book, that one I won't write down. I don't even need to be writing now – it's not like I have anything urgent to say. It's just that knowing this document was sitting there, unfinished, well, it was driving me mad. So I'm writing to complete it – both for my benefit and for yours, non-existent reader.
So here's the end of the story.
//I love the way you look at me
I feel the pain you place inside
You lock me up inside your dirty cage
Well I'm alone inside my mind
I'd like to teach you all the rules
I get to see them set in stone
I like it when you chain me to the bed
Well then your secrets never show//
Our relationship has finally reached completion. The hell I went through, all of it, that was the birth, the growth, the formation. Now it's complete.
Basics first. We need each other. We are violent. We control each other. We play games. And, God, is there love.
The need. We're tied to each other and I honestly don't think we would be able to survive on our own. When he goes on long business trips, now, I go with him. Days away is ok, and the sex is wonderful when we're together again, but much more than that and I start to go crazy. I don't know how he handles it, but judging from how he acts when he comes home he appears to miss me too.
The violence. It was born during our second time together and has now become firmly rooted brutality. It's not an everyday thing. We go days, weeks even – well, we did once – without so much as hitting each other. We are violent, though. Just about every sparring session ends up with us screwing the living daylights out of each other. Each time we have sex there is an element of violence. It's just part of our relationship. I guess you could say it comes naturally to us.
The control? That's an interesting story. He's always controlled me, always and always. Now I have power over him too. I can make him beg. I can tease him until he breaks. I can hurt him. I can make him bend and change and become what I want him to be. After all, I was the one that brought out his soul, wasn't I?
A game – that's exactly what it is. We play this game, battle to control. Wherever we are and no matter who's around us, we play it. What it is, exactly, depends on our circumstances. I'll talk about it in detail soon, but not yet – this is just the basics.
So then, love. As always, of course, I still love him. I can now write with complete and utter certainty that he feels the same about me. Trunks loves me. I know he does. I know it. Don't you see – I did it. My whole life all I've really wanted was Trunks' love and now I have it. There's no magical soul-mate connection, we still act as separate beings, but we love each other.
So, in the end, it's not perfect. Trunks is still locked away from the world. We fight. We're violent. We're generally unaccepted. It works, though. For us it works. We have each other, the love it there, and for our entire lives we're promised to each other. It's not perfect but we don't really care. Trunks and I, we've made it. We're complete now.
//I need to feel you
You need to feel me
I can't control you
You're not the one for me no//
I said before that it's more that just want – it's need. I was right. I need to be with Trunks. When I'm with him, even when I'm not controlling him, when I can just feel him there, there's this sense of completion. When I'm apart from him too long, just a few days, everyday things start to seem hollow and unimportant and all I can think about is the next time I'll be with Trunks again. Call me an addict, call me whatever you want, all I know is that I don't ever want to be apart from him. If I'm going to function at all, then I can't be away from him.
Now, Trunks needs me too. He's almost always there and when he leaves he always comes back, and that's proof enough. Then there are the things he does for me and the things he says to me, all things that wouldn't happen if he didn't need me by his side. He pulled me out of the community college and is paying for me to attend the same college he's at – he's graduated from high school –so that we can share a dorm room. He buys me things, gifts and so forth. He takes me on dates. Best of all, and the most important thing too, is that he's stayed with me for my entire life. No one would ever stay with me for over 18 years unless he needed to, and no one would promise his forever to me unless he needed to. Trunks needs me.
Part of the need we feel is a need to dominate.
I am, by nature, uncontrollable. I almost never give up, I rarely submit, I find it difficult to back down. Trunks is the same way. I think our bloodlines, human mothers and saiya-jin fathers, are what makes this come so naturally. We can't be controlled and we long to control, so we fight. Sparring or dominating, even intentionally causing pain, all of it control. It satisfies our need.
Non-existent reader, I know you think we're both crazy. That's a reasonable conclusion and I'd be lying it I said it wasn't true. You think that people as violent and sado-masochist as we are should never be together, simply for safety's sake. Well, you're right. However, Trunks or I don't give rat's ass what you think. Too bad for you, huh? So it's not perfect, not by your standards. Suffer. So you think it's wrong. Your problem, not mine. So you doubt my sanity. Good for you. So you think we don't belong together. You're not the only one. I'm happy, he's happy, and if society damns us, well, we're going to hell anyway. We'll never stop what we're doing now, no matter what anyone does or says. Simple.
We're happy.
//I can't control you
You can't control me
I need to feel you
So why's it evil//
I've never had complete control over Trunks. He can't be controlled. On the same note, however, Trunks can never completely control me. When someone wins our game, the victory is sweet but short lived because the next time we play the slate is wiped clean and anyone can win. Trunks is the dominant in our relationship, so he's often the top and he has "control," at least in the way most people would define it. The uke, though, the submissive, he does have power. That combined with my natural refusal to be controlled by anyone gives me the power to control him too, even while he fucks me. It's hard to explain. I'll try to, when I get there. I'm sure you're anxious to hear about it. Point is, I have just as much control as he does.
You have to remember that we don't do this just because we want to. We also do it because we need to. I'm 18 now, he's 19, and we're at the height of our saiya-jin sex drives. If we didn't fuck the way we do, so often, so hard, our hormones would just go berserk. Regular, normal, human sex just wouldn't be satisfying enough and, trust me, an unsatisfied teenage saiya-jin is a frightening thing. If you had seen us on the night of the day I wrote last time, when Trunks and I found somewhere secluded, then you would know what I'm talking about. The saiya-jin lust is really something. Now that I've found Trunks, I seemed to get even more horny every day. I used to wonder how Vegeta and Dad could stand it, trapped as they are by human females. I know now, but that's part of the story that I'll get to later.
Anyway, getting back to my point, no matter how strange you think we are just remember that we need it.
Sure, it's probably immoral, wrong, whatever. It breaks every rule that any good, healthy society would ever create. I'm talking about real violence here. More than some roughness and a tear to my ass. This is more than just one cracked rib. This is a few cracked ribs, a fractured bone or two, dislocations, huge abrasions, bruises that doesn't fade for a week, cuts that stream with blood. Actual, real violence. When a human would tie his partner down, we knock each other to the floor. When a normal human like you would slap your partner, we hit each other. /That/ is violence.
Aren't you were glad you were born completely human, my dear non-existent reader?
//I love the way you break my skin
I feel the hate you place inside
I need to get your voice out of my head
'Cause I'm the guy you'll never find
I think you know all of the rules
There's no expressions on your face
I hope that someday you will let me go
Release me from my dirty cage//
So. The game we play. I guess I'll just get that part over with. I'm not entirely sure where I plan to go with this final part chapter, but I know that no matter what I say our game will be an essential part.
It is violent. Understand that fact and accept it. It's important and it's the basis of everything we are. We are violent. We do hurt each other. We take pleasure in it, too. We love it.
Violence may not seem like something that you should inflict upon a loved one. But we're both half-breeds, both half saiya-jin, and for us it comes naturally. All of these opposites are really very, very similar. Pleasure and pain, love and hate. The pain is pleasure. Within all the hate that we show each other, there is love. To be honest, sometimes I really feel like I hate him. He infuriates me, he drives me mad. Through all of it, though, I love him more than anything else in the universe exactly like I always have. The same way he comes to the violence I inflict I love him through that hate I feel, and the same is true from him to me.
It's very difficult to explain.
Anyway, our game. I guess I'll simplify it to a single sentence and start from there. The goal, the biggest goal, is to make the other person come while inflicting as much pain as possible. It sounds simple, but it's not. For example, we can't hurt each other so bad that we're out of action for too long even although, God knows, we're capable of it. We usually start out pretty calm, nothing more than light restraint, moderate pain, more mental abuse – teasing, taunting, badgering, that soft of thing. The big stuff, that good stuff, it usually comes later. One of us will be holding the other down and then he'll do his thing. Trunks is quite direct in his violence – he'll grab my hair and pull my head back or twist my arm until the joint disconnects while he fucks me so hard it feels like he's trying to rip my ass to shreds, or he'll choke me as he blows me so that I see twice as many stars. I'm a bit more subtle – I'll make him contort his body into unnatural positions or restrain him, then I'll dig my fingers into his most sensitive flesh and I'll fuck him or ride him or blow him or rim him, whichever I want. Sometimes it's more brutal – bites that break the skin, slaps that cause bruising, muscle tears, one of us will get thrown against the floor and some bone or another will crack.
Pain combined with pleasure, that's the rule. Remember, though, rules are created to be broken. Sometimes the pleasure for the submissive gets forgotten and it becomes rape. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. All I can say is that it's a necessary evil. You get used to it.
The game also has a less physical, out of the bedroom side. We fight. We piss each other off. He implies these cruel messages – he hates me, he can't stand being with me, I sicken him, so forth. If we can get beneath the other's skin, really irritate him, well, that sure as hell is power if there ever was any. It's also a test. If I really love him then I'll know it's not true and I'll stay with him no matter what we says. I do. I'll never leave.
For all that he says, I do know that he loves me because he tells me he does. He doesn't say it very often. We aren't soft and emotional like that. Even when we aren't actively playing our game we're not whispering sweet, pointless words of love. Sure, I tell him I love him all of the time. On the rare occasions he says it to me it's even more important than it would be if I heard it every day. When he does express that emotion I treasure his words.
Well that's our game, raw and ungilded. Violence is the key, violence and control, amidst the love we have for each other. We're a couple of sick bastards who get off on pain. What excuses can I make? Actually, there is one. We're saiya-jin half-breeds.
If I was reading this story right now, I would want to know how things ended up this way. So I guess I'll tell that next – everything that's happened since I wrote last.
//I need to feel you
You need to feel me
I can't control you
You're not the one for me no//
Where did I leave off? Yeah – Trunks called from the plane, already on his way home, I finished up my writing in a hurry and rushed out to the airport with his family – not Vegeta, though, because Bulma couldn't make him – and my mother because she was at Bulma's place at the time. When he stepped into the airport, carrying his laptop case and looking, well, like himself, I rushed over. We talked for a second or two and next thing I knew we were making out, there, in the airport, with half the world watching. Then we went to his house, sat through hellos and a meal, and finally we escaped to his room and fucked each other. He was happy to see me too, by the way.
News got out, of course. Started slowly, I bet, because I'm sure no one in Trunks' family or mine was anxious for people to know. It was a full airport, though, and Bulma's never been able to keep her mouth shut for very long. In the end we didn't need to tell anyone about our relationship because most everyone knew. I did take the pleasure of telling a few people – I couldn't pass up the opportunity to claim Trunks as mine. A lot of people nodded like they already knew and they did. It wasn't too big of a surprise.
I felt like things were going pretty well. Trunks was back and he was actually changing. Really, actually changing, and God was I happy. Granted, it wasn't much. Above all, he was becoming more possessive of me every day. That was when the control game started. We were in the middle of another session of wild monkey saiya-jin sex, and, well, one thing led to another and somehow we ended up rolling across my living room floor, pinning each other and taking advantage of the situation when we could. It was a pale shadow of what we have now but it was the beginning. From that day on it grew, inconsistently, a little some days and a shitload the next, until it reached what we have now. But I'm jumping ahead of myself.
What seems strange, in retrospect at least, was that I didn't completely approve of us at the beginning. It was to be expected that others would disapprove, but after wanting him for so long I'm amazed that I did too. My mother caused my doubt. She's a human and so I was born and raised here on Earth, and that made me think that our game, even at its first stages, was sick. Sick, disgusting, wrong. Humans aren't violent like that, humans aren't control freaks like that, and I was raised to be a human.
For a moment I really doubted our relationship and whether I should've been with Trunks at all.
Remember, though, how I had planned not to think things through? Well, I followed that. I refused to think about it, I refused to think about the past and I refused to worry about the future. The moment was what I concentrated on, and like I had promised to do I lived for it.
I let myself love.
Not everyone looked at it the way I did, though. We found out real quick that people don't approve of us. I couldn't make them see it my way – that's one kind of control I didn't have.
//I can't control you
You can't control me
I need to feel you
So why's it evil//
The first one to confront me, the first one to have the guts to actually say something to my face rather than behind my back was my brother. He knew about Trunks and me because by then everyone knew about Trunks and me. People all over the world were hearing rumors about the future president of that Japanese company Capsule Corporation and his boyfriend.
So we were having dinner at my parent's house, the whole family – my grandpa, Mom, Dad, Gohan and Videl and Pan, and me. At one point, while the females were in the kitchen, talking instead of doing the dishes, and Dad and Grandpa were in the living room, Gohan pulled me aside.
"It's Trunks, isn't it?" he asked me, and I nodded. "It was him from the very beginning?" he asked. It was obvious, but I nodded again anyway.
Videl had been the one to tell him, many days before, and then Pan had brought home some interesting rumors that compounded the situation. He stumbled over the words – argumentative, angry, public, violent. He was concerned for me, the classic worried big brother. He was cautious and careful and trying not to jump to conclusions but doing so spectacularly. God, it pissed me off.
I told him his daughter's contacts had been right – we were violent. Quite violent, actually, is what I told him, even going so far as to brag about our dirty little relationship. "You should see us inside of the bedroom," I said. "The shock'd kill you."
Gohan looked stunned and I can't really blame him. I'm normally not that brutal in my honesty and I'm normally that vulgar around my family members. He stared at me, standing there in the hallway of our parents' house, then he told me, "It sounds like an unhealthy relationship."
Yeah. I most certainly didn't appreciate that comment. I told him, "Look, Gohan, I know I can't convince you that it's not a bad thing. I'm sure you've made up you mind and nothing I say will change it. But, you see, I love Trunks – I really do – and nothing you say will be able to change me either. So just piss off, Gohan, because there's nothing you can do to stop me. You helped me once, and I'm thankful, but I don't want your advice any more. Just leave us alone." I smiled, and turned, and left the hallway.
That was when I knew for sure that I wasn't going anywhere. What I mean to say is that I recognized I would stay with Trunks for as long as and longer than he would have me. The little doubts I had, my fears, they were no longer important. I needed Trunks. I've always know that I loved him, unconditionally, and after that conversation I knew that regardless of right or wrong I would stay with him, too.
That wasn't the last of the disapproval we encountered. Gohan continued to look down on us and he still does. Some people condemned us simply because we're both guys. Kids we knew, even the ones that didn't mind gays, they would shy away from our loud angry antics.
Not everyone looked down on us. There were some, most of them around our age, that were and are fascinated by us. Maybe they like gays. Maybe they like the look of us two more-attractive-than-most guys together. Maybe, though, they sense our game, our battle, and are drawn to it the same way I was. If that's true, well, those ones would make good saiya-jin.
Anyway, there're some that accept us but they're the exceptions to the rule. The general rule is that people don't approve. On the whole, most people think for a variety of reasons that what we are is wrong – evil, immoral, sinful, so on, so forth. Screw them, I say, and let Trunks continue to screw me.
//You and me//
By this point, about three weeks had passed since Trunks' return. Outside of the bedroom, out there with the rest of the world, our relationship had become what it would be in the end. We fought in public constantly and we were physical – not cuddly physical but /together/ physical, hand on the ass, teeth on the ear, arm around the waist. Like those touchy couples I'm sure you hate but with a rawness that would make you cringe. Inside the bedroom the formation of our game was progressing even faster than it had been before. Every now and then when we were both at our horniest, we would reach the level we have now.
Last time I wrote, while Trunks was still in America, I said we could never have human happiness. I know I didn't really write much about it, I just said that our relationship was too strange for Earth and so the happiness earthlings have would never be ours. As I wrote that, I was thinking about a kind of happiness that was unique to Trunks and me, a happiness that other people wouldn't consider happiness, one that was too extreme – too cold then too impassioned – one too brutal, one too inhuman for humans to accept. By then, three weeks after Trunks' return, I could feel that kind of happiness being born. I can't describe how I felt, sensing the start of it, or how I feel now that it's here. I can't say what it felt like then because I don't know how to describe it. All I can say is that it felt good.
At the same time that happiness was coming, Trunks was becoming himself. His soul was emerging from where he had hidden it, deep within himself. No, he's not soulless. I don't know why – maybe there really is no such thing – he's just not. He has a soul and he has feelings and he has emotions. He doesn't express himself the way everyone else does, that's all. He lives very coldly, calculating everything, judging and weighing before he acts. The emotions he has show themselves rarely and they don't come across the way that most people's emotions do. When they show they're deeper, truer, they have more meaning, and that makes them frightening. Anyway, he has a soul. He has a personality, a cold and careful personality. What he was before, everything that scared me, that's faded, that's been diluted by my hard work, that's been given life, but it's still there. It is his soul.
At the same time I was becoming myself. I stopped being Trunks' slave. I still do things for him, he still has control over me, but I have an attitude now. I don't always submit. I'm more of a consort, now, than a slave. I'm a consort with a hell of an attitude. I think he likes it more that he ever liked my obedience. He has to work to control me – it's a challenge and we both love a challenge.
Us then was the growth to us now. Everything that went on between us, all those changes, it was all the lead up to what we are now. Happiness, what I've always wanted, was coming – just not in the way I had expected.
//I love the way you look at me
I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do
I have control of you//
Anyway, back to the story. I had come to terms with the violence, the brutality, in our relationship. When I reminded myself of my promise not to think, the violence became very easy to live with. /Very/ easy, as in it didn't bother me at all. I lived with it, I enjoyed it, and I loved it too, all without any worry. After being so adverse to it doesn't that seem strange? I noted that strangeness and let it sit there in the back of my head. It didn't bother me either.
Then, about five weeks ago, this theory developed, growing on its own, that explained why it was so easy for me to accept what we were. You see, we're half-breeds, as I keep saying. I figured our relationship was the kid that any saiya-jin would have – one that was brutal, that was violent, one in which the partners fought just like we did.
It explained everything, really. Humans didn't understand or accept us because what we had wasn't human – it was natural to us but not to them. Gohan disapproved because, for most intents and purposes, he's a human. We had the relationship we did because the violence, battle, domination, it's all part of how saiya-jin live. It explained it all. We did it because it was natural. It was in our blood.
For once I can say with honesty that I wasn't an idiot and I can say with certainty that I wasn't wrong.
I brought the idea to Trunks. He didn't really care, I don't think. Trunks is like that. He doesn't question why he's more removed, colder, more calculating than anyone on this planet. He doesn't question the control he has over me and the rest of humanity. In the same way, he doesn't question our relationship. He just accepts it and lives it. But for my sake he pretended to care and pretended to consider it, then he agreed that it sounded possible.
That's not the reason I know I'm right. I mean, he was only getting me to shut up. I know because of something I saw when we were at his house and decided to spar. We wanted to use the gravity room, but when we got there the red light by the door was on. The room was in use. We thought we were alone – we had fucked rather loudly in the kitchen only an hour before so I sure as hell hoped there was no one else around. We went around to the side, looked in a window, and that's how I found out that my theory was right.
//I love the way you look at me
I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do
I have control of you//
The windows are small. The place can get up to a real high gravity and glass breaks easily. Well, anyway, we were both peering in the same too small window and then they came into view. Them – Vegeta and my father. Both of Dad's shirts were gone and his gi pants were ripped across the knee, Vegeta was wearing black spandex and a sleeveless shirt, and for a moment I thought they were sparring. My dad was moving quickly, in jumps, appearing randomly. Vegeta was walking, slowly, his arms crossed. His eyes watched Dad, tracking like a predator. Then he used that same move, super-speed, and appeared up in the air were we could just see his feet.
"They're using the gravity room," Trunks said. I nodded, still watching, and in the seconds while Trunks spoke my father's feet came into view just in front of Vegeta's. Vegeta must have predicted what Dad would do. Well, Vegeta caught Dad – I could tell because what I could see of Dad went stiff in shock and then he tried to kick back – and then they went down, hitting the floor hard, Dad first. Still nothing more than a sparring session. I could tell Trunks didn't want to stand there, watching, so I was about to turn and go. But Vegeta got up on his knees and my father pushed up from the floor, pausing on all fours. They were facing each other, but Dad's head was down. Vegeta said something – I couldn't hear what, of course, though the sound-proofed walls – then grabbed a handful of Dad's hair and then things were too interesting to look away. I whispered Trunks' name and he turned back to the window just as Vegeta pushed his pants down with his free hand and pulled Dad's head over to sit right in front of his impressive hard-on.
We stood there, staring in from the tiny window, as my dad gave Vegeta a blowjob. Then we watched Dad wrestle Vegeta for power. Then we watched my father screw Vegeta's firm tight little ass as Vegeta braced himself against the support beam in the middle of the room. We couldn't see it all because they kept going out of view but we didn't leave until they were lying on the floor, done. It didn't seem to bother either of us that we were watching our fathers go at it. Goku's my dad, yeah, but at the time it wasn't important.
I know my theory's right because of what I saw them doing. They were not very nice to each other. They restrained each other. They forced each other. They were violent, rolling around on the floor, not caring when the other's head was banged, not careful or gentle. It was a lot like Trunks and me only their movements were less frantic teenage sex and more purposeful and more intentional. They were just like us only older, more mature, more experienced.
Vegeta and Goku, my father, are the only pureblooded saiya-jin left in the universe and they showed us exactly what I had predicted saiya-jin were like. It was the perfect support to my theory. So I was right, for once. You know, it's a nice change to not be an idiot. Trunks and I, we are what we are because of our blood. It's right for us, it's natural, and it's the reason why it feels so perfect.
We hid out in his room until we knew they were gone. A few days later, we used the gravity room for our own little training session.
//I love the way you look at me
I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do
I have control of you//
Violence is more than just violence to us.
When his touch on my skin sends signals of pain through my nerves and to my brain, it does this major mind-job on me. Everything looks different, it all feels different. There's more to it. More emotion, more sensation, more of everything, a thousand times more.
Call it what you will – an upper, an aphrodisiac, a turn on – whatever you call it, to us it is. We spar and both of us come out with a hard-on. It makes my heart pound, it makes the blood rush though my veins until I can hear it. All of my senses become over-active, all the sounds and smells and colors and feelings grow. The sex, that it does wonders to. It makes me want it until I can't stand the wait anymore and then it makes me enjoy it more than seems possible.
We love the violence, we love the feeling of control, we even love how it feels to be dominated. When he's under my power it's a rush, an ego-trip, and I want to use him until either his body or his spirit breaks. But to be under his control, well, that's freedom. That sounds impossible, but hear me out. He makes me surrender, he makes me give in, he tears away my boundaries and my inhibitions and tortures me with pleasure. I'm free to live it all when he controls me. I don't have a choice and because of that I'm free.
We love it.
I would shrug, but you, non-existent reader, wouldn't be able to see. There's no excuse. It's just what I am – a creature of the flesh, a sinner, a saiya-jin.
//I love the way you look at me
I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do
I have control of you//
So, interested in hearing what our sex is really like? Regardless of what you would answer if you were real I would share anyway so here it is.
Last night, in our too-small dorm room, we woke the neighbors. We do that all of the time – I know because of the way they pound on the walls while we're at it and the looks we get the next morning. This time, though, it was different.
I was hard at work, using this same laptop, doing homework, when Trunks came home. I called my hello and I kept on working while he dumped his stuff. Then he came up behind me – I was sitting on our single chair, hunched over the computer – wrapped his arms around my waist and whispered into my ear, "I'm gonna fuck you 'til you scream." So I closed the document, shut down the laptop, and put it on the ground.
He pulled me off the chair and I lay on the floor, looking up at him.
Trunks stripped my shirt off first, then pulled my pants down to my ankles. He forced my legs up until my knees touched my ears. No prep, no lube – he took me raw. Try to get a human to do that. A few moments and I was hard, a few minutes and I came, my hands sliding over the carpet and my nails digging into the weave with nothing to hold on to. He didn't stop. He kept going, kept going, making me come again and again. He never lost his erection and he only came once. My legs began to hurt and God was my ass sore. I doubt the bloodstains will come out of the carpet. He pulled out, gave me a few seconds rest, then flipped me onto my stomach and took me again, and again, until I swear I started to run out of semen.
My calls started as pants then became moans, then begging, then cries, and eventually I did scream. I screamed for him to stop. After one last ride, he did.
I slept like I rock last night and I can't quite sit or walk today.
I'm sure that it looked and sounded like some kind of rape, but it wasn't. That's not to say that it never is, but it's rare and it's just as likely to be me on him as it is him on me so in the end it's ok. It wasn't rape that time, though. I mean, I came so many times it hurt. I came until I screamed for him to stop. It was pleasure to the breaking point and that's not rape. It was violent, it was extreme, and my screaming woke the neighbors at some ungodly hour of the night, but it wasn't rape. He had control, all right. Complete and utter control. If he hadn't wanted to stop he wouldn't have. Trunks has stamina. He can go for ages without coming to orgasm and can keep a hard-on after it. He had an hour left in him, give or take. I only had minutes. /That/ is control.
//I need to feel you
You need to feel me
I can't control you
You're not the one for me no//
Look, I understand what you must be thinking: I'm crazy, we're crazy. If we're gonna do what we do, which is disturbing enough on its own, couldn't we do it a little less publicly? You know what I mean – don't be so raucous, don't wake the neighbors, don't cling on to each other in public places, don't share it so frankly with friends and family members, so on and so forth. Can't we just have some tact?
Two weeks ago Vegeta came to Trunks and said those same things.
Vegeta was fairly tolerant of our antics – he gave us a while to prove ourselves before he spoke to Trunks. Trunks told me he started of by generally disapproving of everything we were. How stupid. You see, my Trunks is just as touchy about that subject as I am. You don't dis our relationship in front of either of us, plain and simple.
I love the comeback that Trunks used. He said to his father, all frank and unornamented, "I saw Goku fucking you." Yeah. That blew the cocky Prince's cover to shreds. I mean, he's just as bad as us and we have proof because we've seen it. So, Trunks says, he changed his story real quick and went off about how noisy we are, how everyone knew about us, that the rumors were unpleasant. Then he ordered, that little fuck /ordered/ Trunks to quiet down and keep it under control.
I'm not sure why Vegeta cared what others say about us – he's never had a clean reputation himself. Maybe he was trying to uphold his damn saiya-jin pride. Maybe he cares for his son a little more than he's willing to admit and thinks he knows what's best for Trunks. Maybe he just really likes the money that CC brings in for him to spend. In any case, he was trying to get us to conceal who we are.
Get this, understand this: We have no shame, none at all, about who we are or what we do. There is no pleading, no guilt trips, no begging that will ever make us change our mind. Just give us a break, Goddamnit – we've saved the sorry butts of innocents plenty of times so if we want to fuck each other and let everyone in the world know, we will. Let us have our vice. Even if you don't want it to be true, well, it is and nothing, /nothing/ will ever change it. Not my brother's disapproval or Vegeta's pleading, not what you want us to do, not a thing in the world. If you think the relationship is sick you can shove that news up your ass.
//I can't control you
You can't control me
I need to feel you
So why's it evil//
Well I had a story in here somewhere before I went off on all that so I should get back to it.
For a while more after Vegeta came to Trunks people continued to confront us, continued to openly disapprove of us, continued to try to change us. Yeah, we changed – we got worse. During that time we reached the level we have now and the evolution was complete. Eventually people stopped coming.
All this began during the summer and by this point a new school year was about to start. Trunks pulled a few strings and got me into his college of choice and into his dorm room. Before, we were basically living together – we were always in the same place, spending most nights together at his house or mine or in the woods. Now we're really living together in our small bedroom with the twin beds pushed together.
So, that takes me to where I am now. I'm beginning my first real year of college, I'm living with my male lover, and I'm the center of just about every rumor in the school. Yeah.
No, it's not perfect. Trunks is still cold, we do fight, we are violent, we're not accepted, it is not and will never be perfect. I still have these memories, too, memories of the past – of discovering what I thought was Trunks' soullessness, of running away terrified, of being lonely, of coming home only to have my hopes destroyed, of giving up, of failing, of loneliness that made me go insane, of uncertainty, of everything that got me to where I am now. On top of all that, my human blood still reacts to what I am every now and then, it tries to push me way from Trunks. So, yeah, it's not perfect, and yeah, sometimes I don't think I should be here.
I refuse to give in. Aided by my love for Trunks, its not that difficult. See, I love Trunks, a love that hurts but also because it hurts. I need him too, I need to be with him. Because I love him I forget all the bad things and because I need him I'm blind to the faults in our relationship. I love him and I need him and that will keep me beside him, memories or no memories, forever.
So where am I now? I'm in love with Trunks, living in a cramped little dorm room with him and raising hell. The past is still there and I can never forget it but I'm moving on.
//You and me//
This is how the story ends: I am happy. Not carefree, not at peace, not human happy at all, but happy. You, dear non-existent reader, probably don't understand how a rib that's still healing and an ass that hurts so bad I have to lay on my stomach to write could be happiness but I don't live my life so that you can understand. I'm happy, and that's the end of the final chapter of this story.
I'm sure there's more that I can say. What's going to happen from here on in? Dad's 50 years old now, give or take a few because it's hard to keep track of the years he spent in the Room of Spirit and Time and, well, dead. He still looks like he's at the height of his life and he still acts like he is and I bet he could keep going for a while still. Vegeta said once that saiya-jin have an extended prime and by the looks of it it's true. Even if Trunks and I get half of that we've got a while left. We've got plenty of time together and with our relationship I'm sure there will be plenty to say.
I'm not going to tell that story, though. This is the end. It's over with and there will be no sequel.
I love him with everything that I am and I have forever to show it to him.
However, I don't have forever to show it to you, non-existent reader, because Trunks has come home and is now standing behind me, reading over my shoulder. Hello, love. It's time for me to go – you know what we're like.
//You're not the one for me no
You're not the one for me no
You're not the one for me no
You're not the one for me no//
"Hey."
"Do you write about me often?"
"No. Only a few times. That was the last part – I was just finishing the story."
"Tell me: what is it that you write about, exactly?"
"Hey, calm down. It's about us, our history, everything up to now."
"Ah."
"So, how was your class?"
"Boring, no different than usual. That teacher is hot, though. Almost makes it worthwhile."
"The American one, right? Adams? Yeah. A rear so tight it could kill a guy. I suppose you were going somewhere with that comment."
"Yeah."
"Look, Trunks, my ass hurts so bad I can barely stand. You can't fuck me again today."
"Turn over to your back."
"Why?"
The sound of sudden movement. "Because I said so."
"I swear to God, Trunks, if you dislocate my shoulder I'm gonna kill you."
"Then turn over."
"I don't have the energy for this."
Rustling and the squeak of bedsprings.
"Good. Now keep you arms there, Goten, and don't move."
Shifting of clothing.
"Let's see if you have the energy or not."
Ticking of a clock.
Breathing.
Panting.
"God, Trunks, I swear you've been practicing. Honestly, I didn't think I had it in me today."
Ragged breathing.
"Shit…"
Moaning.
"Fuck, Trunks, just a little bit more."
Near silence.
"Trunks! What the hell – what the hell are you trying to do to me?"
Near silence.
"Just a little – "
Movement.
"Shut up, Goten, and keep your damn arms above your head."
"Please, don't stop."
"Shut up, damnit, or I'll gag you! Do you want me to finish or not?"
Silence.
Stifled moans.
"Tru – T –"
Loud pants.
"Holy shit!"
Silence. The ticking of a clock.
Movement and the groanings of a bed.
"Amazing. Amazing. Trunks, you know, you do know I love you, right? You do know."
"You come once and then you start this? Hn – weakling."
"You do know, right? I live my life for you."
"Yes, little chibi Goten-chan of mine, yes, I know. I love you too."
"I honestly never thought we would get this far, you know. I didn't."
Silence.
Movement and a crash.
"Now it's time for me to repay the favor."
