Brief encounter
TW: This one shot contains several very explicit sex scenes between two men. And even though it is barely mentioned, some mentions refer to sexual assaults.
I wanted to warn readers who are sensitive to these subjects.
Have a good reading.
First, there was the cold.
A terrible cold, whose brutal bite gradually woke him up from his unconsciousness.
Then came the pain. Rough. Lancinating.
From his entrails bruised by the blows sprang then a cry.
Rolling onto his side, Trunks slowly came to his senses, until he could finally open his eyes. All around him he could only see the desolate landscape he knew all too well. The weight of the rubble under which he lay weighed heavily on his wounded shoulders, but he managed to pull himself out with an angry gesture.
Suddenly, the memory came back to him.
The cyborgs.
He had challenged them, confident in the new power of his Super Saiyan transformation, eager to avenge Son Gohan's death. But their strength was far superior to what he had imagined. In their previous battles, he had been too far behind to truly grasp the magnitude of the gap that remained before he could even dream of facing them.
What had just happened wasn't even a fight. They had played with him like cats with a mouse, until these monsters got tired of the smallness of this prey, and left him there, lying on the ground.
Or so he thought.
For as Trunks leaned on his arms, drawing on the last drops of energy he had left to try and get up, a noise was heard. A sound that he had heard dozens of times, and that had made him shudder in a single second.
This sound, short, dry.
That of 17's shoes.
He was very close. Right behind him.
Scared, Trunks still couldn't get up.
Footsteps. He was heading straight for him.
Trunks had to get away. As fast as possible.
So, since he couldn't walk, he started to crawl.
Crawl, to save his life.
He took a few steps forward, scraping his elbows on the sharp shards of glass that littered the ground. Yet all his efforts seemed to be in vain. He could clearly hear the footsteps of 17 approaching him. He could already hear his little snide laughter. Yet Trunks did not give up and continued to try to escape, as much out of pride as out of the terror that was beginning to take hold of him.
His attempt to escape came to an abrupt halt when 17, who had just caught up with him, put his foot directly on Trunks' lower back.
A wave of pain shot up the Saiyan's spine, and he immediately froze, unable to move further.
- Well, sweetheart, you gave me a hard time.
17's voice echoed in his ears. His tone alone was enough for the Saiyan to guess the familiar smile of the cyborg.
- What... do you... want ... Trunks whispered between painful exhalations.
- To have fun.
- You and... 18... you defeated me... isn't that enough?
- No. You're all so weak, kicking each other's asses was never much fun. And as far as you're concerned, I'm pretty disappointed in you. You are weak, but also incredibly stupid for wasting your energy so foolishly. I should have waited a bit before sending the one-armed man to the next world. He probably could have taught you a few more things.
- DON'T TALK ABOUT... AAAAH!
In one swift motion, 17 silenced him. Digging his heel even deeper into Trunks' back, he crouched down, slowly, before lifting his foot until he ended up lying on top of him. He then began to caress the young saiyan's cheek, whose blood froze in surprise. The sadism of the twins had no limits, and a panic fear began to invade him.
- What do you want, cyborg? he asked, worried.
Trunks then heard, incredulously, the sound of a belt being unbuckled. His throat instantly went dry. His fear turned to uncontrollable panic.
- What are you... he asked again in a voice so weak it was barely audible.
- Having fun, 17 whispered in his ear.
- I don't... understand...
- Oh yes, you do, you're not a child anymore. You couldn't give me a good fight, so you're going to make up for it and stay a good boy so I can entertain myself with you.
- No... no, I beg you... don't... hurt me...
- Oh yes, beg again. Beg me with all your might, my pleasure will be all the greater.
Trunks tried to struggle, desperately, to escape 17's embrace, which maintained an incredible pressure on him. But there was no way out. And deep down, he knew it. The cyborg's sneer echoed in his ears with the hardness of a blade tearing his insides. He understood without realizing what was happening to him. Tears of anger and fear ran involuntarily down his cheeks. His heart was beating wildly. The hot breath of 17 burned the back of his neck.
Then, finally, he stopped struggling.
Stunned.
- Well, there you go... 17 whispered, satisfied, when suddenly a familiar voice was heard right behind them.
- 17 ! 17 ! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU IDIOT?
Visibly annoyed, 17 sat up slightly to answer 18.
- I'M JUST HERE.
- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
- MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS! GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES! I'M HAVING A LITTLE FUN.
- I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR CHILDISHNESS. I WANT TO GO SHOPPING. SO COME ON NOW! I'M SICK OF THIS SHITTY PLACE.
- Tchhhh
17 seemed to hesitate a short moment. Then he let out a long sigh, before starting to laugh.
- Haha, well my dear Trunks, this is your lucky day. 18 is such a pain in the ass ... always stopping me when I want to have fun. But you see, it's better not to make her angry. So, we'll stop here for today. But it's only a postponement, believe me.
Taking the young man by the shoulders, 17 made him turn to face him. A devilish grin crossed his face, from which Trunks could no longer look away. He howled again when the cyborg grabbed his hair to make him come to his height, before placing his mouth violently against his.
The violence of the kiss muffled the moans of rejection of Trunks, whose taste of salty tears seemed to increase tenfold 17's desire. Then, as quickly as he had started, the cyborg stopped, leaving Trunks paralyzed, full of disgust and fury.
- Sleep well, babe...
TCHAC.
A thump.
A pain in the neck.
Then everything went black.
Year 767 a few days after the Cell Game
- NO, GET OFF ME!
Trunks jumped out of bed, panting and sweating. He was on his feet, in a fighting stance, ready to fight, ready to defend himself.
What was he so afraid of?
A nightmare. A ghost. A memory.
He slowly calmed his breathing, gradually regaining his composure.
Where was he?
Around him, intact walls, painted in bright colors. No cracks. This space was welcoming, comfortable, heated and well decorated. He was in the room that Bulma had prepared for him. The Bulma of this timeline different from his own.
The memory came back to him.
His trip to the past, the cyborgs, 16 and finally Cell. The tournament had just ended, and Son Goku had died sacrificing himself in the final battle. And his mother offered him to stay a few more days to rest, before he could finally join his time and...
« Destroy the cyborgs! »
That was his original goal: to find a weakness and finally free his world from their cruel dominance. He had failed, but his battles with Team Z had increased his strength beyond anything he could have imagined. When he returns home, he will finally be able to avenge his dead father, his master, and all their friends. And avenge the years of humiliation that the duo has put him through.
Was it the prospect of soon satisfying this thirst and hatred deeply buried in him that had just brought back in his dreams the memory of his very last meeting with 17? This moment he had never told anyone about, so great was the sense of shame he felt.
« 17... he's alive... on this planet. »
Trunks took a deep breath, before sitting back down on his bed to think.
« They are not the same... Everything is different here... They are... different... »
He tried to convince himself of that. Yes, the cyborgs of this era were nothing like the bloodthirsty monsters he had known. Krillin had explained it to him. And 18's attitude when she was with them at the Kami Palace was nothing like the cyborg he knew. Trunks had even been amused by the excitement the young woman caused Krillin. A form of pity, of compassion, had carried him towards 18 whom he had seen so weak and vulnerable when she had been spat out.
But 17 was a different matter. And since he had learned of his resurrection, the cyborg had no longer left his thoughts.
"He's there ... somewhere ... and he ... he's dangerous ..."
The memory of that terrible smile on his face, the feeling of having been a toy in his hands, the horror of what he had escaped... If there was even the slightest chance that this 17 had this violence in him, even latent, there was no way he was going to allow him to do any harm.
So, in a deep fit of rage, Trunks finally stood up. In a matter of seconds, he put on a t-shirt and jeans that Bulma had prepared for him, opened the window of his room and flew away, straight ahead and as fast as he could.
He had no idea where 17 might be.
There had been no news on television of an attack on him or 18. But as far as Trunks knew, he had nowhere to go. So he decided to start with the easiest place to reach: the area around Dr. Gero's lab. After flying over the area for a long time without seeing anything suspicious, he finally spotted a slight cloud of smoke coming from the forest below. Determined, Trunks landed as quietly as possible, staying within a few feet of a fire that was still burning.
Hiding behind the trees, he waited, convinced that the person who had excited him would soon show up. And indeed, after about twenty minutes of patience, he distinguished 17's silhouette. The arms loaded with wood, the cyborg returned near the fire and put a kettle on it. He was obviously preparing coffee, and Trunks looked at him for a long time as he remained motionless, staring at the flames in silence, as if lost in his thoughts. No one came to join him, which made the Saiyan think that 18 wasn't there.
- How long are you going to stand there?
Trunks was startled. 17 had not turned around, but he was talking to him.
- I don't like being watched like this. So tell me what you want, or get out.
This sudden aggressiveness surprised Trunks. The 17 from that time had seemed surprisingly "friendly" to him compared to his alter ego from the future. He was just as mocking, but no murderous aura had come off of him. In contrast, the 17 he had known was a ruthless, aggressive assassin without any empathy. So seeing the cyborg's harsh tone rekindled his distrust: his deeply evil nature was undoubtedly resurfacing.
But this time, Trunks knew he had the advantage. 17 was actually no longer a threat to him now.
He then came out of hiding and approached him.
- I thought you couldn't feel ki?
- No, I can't. But that doesn't mean I'm deaf, blind or stupid.
- I thought I was...
- I don't care. What do you want?
17 stood up and turned around in one swift motion, suddenly facing Trunks who instinctively resumed his defensive pose.
- STAY BACK! he shouted at him, without 17 making a single move.
- Quite sassy, from the one who comes to disturb me. I ask you again: what do you ... AAAH!
Trunks had just struck a violent punch in 17's stomach, who almost fainted under the pain. His breathing had just stopped, and it seemed that his bones could have been broken into a thousand pieces if the Saiyan had not held back his strength. Instantly, blood invaded his mouth, which he had to spit out with a groan, taken by powerful and irrepressible coughing fits.
Still in the grip of his uncontrollable fury, Trunks grabbed him by the hair, and immediately lifted him up to place his face a few centimeters away from his.
This face, these features in every way similar to that of his tormentor. The same hair as black as night. The same clothes. The image of the cyborg of his future was superimposed on the one in front of him, so much so that Trunks was no longer able to distinguish them in his mind fogged by hatred, resentment and sorrow for all that 17 had taken from him. His family, his friends, the peace and prosperity of his world. But also the memories he would never be able to build, the birthdays he would never celebrate, the encounters he would never be able to make again, and even, as a final degradation, a part of his dignity. Trunks could hardly hold back the tears of frustration that devoured his cheeks, especially since he knew that without the Dragon Balls, his world would never be the same as it was before the cyborgs awakened. Trunks also knew that Krillin cared about 18, so he couldn't kill her here. There was nothing he could take away from 17 that would make him feel the same pain he had.
But as he saw him standing there, at his total mercy, he realized that there was one thing he could do to him. That there was a pain he could erase by inflicting it on him.
Then he jumped forward, dragging with him 17 that he tackled violently against a tree. Then, without giving him time to catch his breath, he put his mouth against his. A kiss, without other emotion that a violent desire to possess the least part of the other. A kiss full of violence, like the one with which he forced the barrier of the closed lips of 17 so that his tongue penetrates him in spite of his refusal.
A kiss made to humiliate.
He doesn't look for anything in return but the satisfaction of seeing his enemy suffer, of inflicting him the sharpest and deepest pain.
In a gesture, he tears off 17's scarf and threw it on the ground. Then, in the same furious movement, he grabbed his belt and undid it with one hand, still holding 17's long hair in the other, which he kept still.
« Come on, fight! Beg me! Tell me I'm hurting you! »
Trunks was gloating as much as he was filled with anger. He couldn't take his eyes off 17, he was looking at him, as he himself had once been looked at. And he looked forward to the terror, the same terror, that he would finally read on his face.
But it was as he was backing away slightly to revel in the sight that he stopped.
« I want... I... »
To Trunks' surprise, the sight before him was nothing like he had imagined. 17 was not struggling, but it was his look that unsettled the young Saiyan.
No fear, no disgust, no anger, not even a painful resignation.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Not the slightest emotion seemed to emanate from the absolute, icy emptiness of his eyes, which were so clear that they seemed almost transparent now that they were only a few millimeters apart.
No rough edges.
No problems.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
« I ... I ... »
Trunks felt his strength and determination slip away as he looked at the impassive expression on 17's face, which made him look like a slab of glass that everything would eventually slide off of without being able to reach it.
- Is this what you wanted?
17's question was like a whiplash that struck Trunks right in the heart. He had thought he was more than ready to take his revenge, but now he found himself at a loss, unable to continue or even answer.
But the cyborg didn't give him time to recover, because he took over almost immediately:
- Don't waste any more time than necessary. If you want to kill me afterwards, do it. If you just want to fuck me, do it. Do whatever you want. And then get the hell out.
- But... you...
- Didn't you hear me? I told you to do what you want, and if you don't plan on killing me afterwards, to get the hell out when you're done.
- You... want that? Trunks stammered in disbelief.
- No. This may surprise you, but I don't like being forced.
- But then... why do you...
- Because I don't care.
- You don't care about what?
- You really think you can take everything from me? Do you?
- I don't understand... I didn't mean to ...
- Of course you did. I'm not that stupid. I was conscious.
- Conscious of what?
- Inside Cell. When he absorbed me. I was conscious the whole time. I heard your little conversation with him when you confronted him right after. Where you came from, what the 17 and 18 were doing in your time, why you came and all your bullshit. Are you angry because a guy who looks like me hurt your fragile little heart? And you're so desperate for revenge that you come here to try to satisfy that childish need towards me.
- NO! I...
- From victim to executioner, right? Now that I'm weaker than you, all moral barriers are down, right?
- Don't you dare! Don't you dare say that, it's you who ...
- Not me, 17 interrupted without losing his calm. I never did anything to you. I gave you the beating you deserved for attacking us, and I don't regret it for a second. But I didn't kill you, even though I could have that day. Not because I'm a good guy, no. But because I wasn't interested in you and your stupid team.
Trunks felt all the certainties he had thought so firmly established crumble. 17's strange speech was undermining all the foundations of what he had built his attitude on for so many years.
The cyborg did not stop.
As if something inside him had also just been released, he continued his monologue, albeit with a hint of anger that was beginning to be noticeable in the hesitations of his voice.
- I never wanted to dominate the world. I never wanted to destroy anything. You know what I wanted? To be free. That's all I ever wanted. And I finally fucking got it. Finally, after years. Gero never asked me, but in the end I didn't do anything wrong to anyone. Nothing at all! And yet I'm the one who lost everything. My life. My freedom. My honor. My pride. I lost everything when this disgusting cockroach absorbed me. So do what you want, but you won't take anything from me that hasn't already been taken, and you won't be the first to treat me like an object. That's why I don't care. So hurry up. Let's get this over with. Be satisfied that you're the last one on the list to humiliate me, because I don't care anymore.
Then he fell silent.
17 had regained his composure and was waiting, his icy eyes still pointed straight ahead, piercing Trunks who was now also frozen.
Unable to move.
17's words had hit him in the gut, and his hatred was suddenly gone. In a second. And with it, the will and resolve that had been his just minutes before.
Instinctively, he unclenched his hand, releasing 17, who stood there for a brief moment.
Then, as if nothing had happened, the cyborg moved to the side and returned to sit by the fire, turning his back on Trunks, whom he nonchalantly called:
- Well, let me know when you know what you want, Saiyan.
Trunks shook.
The intense flow of emotions he had gone through had exhausted him, he now felt without any strength, and more troubled than ever. He stood there for a long moment without saying or doing anything, before glancing over to 17 to see what he was doing and what his reaction would be.
The cyborg ignored him completely.
He had finished boiling his water and had poured himself a cup of coffee which he drank in silence, his eyes constantly immersed in the observation of the flames. Trunks now felt terribly guilty about what he had just done. The words of 17 echoed inside him and the guilt he felt caused a terrible pain in his sternum. He was ashamed. So much so that he wasn't even sure he had the courage to look at him.
17 had aimed right: he had abused his power, now that he was much stronger than he was. Just as he, in his own timeline, had done to everyone else.
But while he remained on the spot, annihilated and unable to decide what it was appropriate to make, it is once again 17 which engaged the conversation. After having taken a sip of coffee, he prepared a second one and sighed a long time before exclaiming, irritated:
- You're annoying me by staying here! Go away if you have nothing better to do, or come and have a coffee to pull yourself together, but do something, you idiot!
Trunks was surprised, but after what he had just done, he didn't dare refuse this invitation. With a hesitant step, he joined 17 and both drank together, in silence.
- Well, you're calm now ? the cyborg finally asked him.
- Yes, yes, I... Thanks... for the coffee and... sorry for...
- I told you I didn't care.
- But how can you say that after what I tried to do to you?! exclaimed Trunks, half spilling the contents of his cup as his hands shook.
- That's not the worst that's happened to me, replied 17, leaving the young Saiyan stunned and speechless.
The look of bewilderment on his face, however, made 17 burst out laughing and exclaimed, hilariously:
- Haha if you could see your face, you look like a fish out of a jar. It's really pathetic for a Super Saiyan.
- I don't know what you're talking about!
- I know what I'm talking about. What are you so surprised about? What did you think my life was, huh? You think I just woke up one morning and became what I am? That you are the only person in the world who has ever suffered?
- No! Actually, it's just that... I didn't...
- You never thought about that, did you?
- No, Trunks admitted sheepishly.
- It makes sense to me. I don't care about your past or your pain either.
- But after all you know about me, aren't you a little... well ... it didn't bother you a little bit ... to know where I come from?
- Oh yes, sorry, it's true that while I was locked in the slimy body of a stinking cockroach, I should have been more concerned about your little teenage crisis, it's true. My apologies, I really have no manners.
Shaken at first, Trunks then noticed the slight smile on 17's face.
- On that point, you really resemble him... he mumbled then.
- I'm sorry?
- No, but... the 17 I know is a rather... sarcastic person. It sounds like you share that trait with him.
- Maybe I do. And what about the rest?
- Well, actually, not much. I have to admit that Krillin was right, you and 18 are different here. Much to my surprise I must say. Because the cyborgs I knew were real monsters. They killed countless innocent people, and they destroyed almost everything...
This mention of 18's name confused 17 for a brief moment, but he recovered almost immediately to answer Trunks.
- If you came here to get me to apologize for things I didn't do, you're wasting your time. I don't feel responsible for what happened to you.
- Oh no, no, I know. I understand now. It's my turn to apologize. I lost my mind for a moment, and I'm really sorry. I mixed you up. Everything got mixed up in my mind. You look so much like him it's confusing... He did so many things to me...
But he didn't finish his sentence. 17 could feel the tension in Trunks' body, which was very close to his own. He watched him for a short while in silence, trying to get a better sense of the nervous situation he was in. As he looked closer, he couldn't help but let his gaze linger more than he would have liked on his face, which had become squarer than when they first met. He seemed to have aged more than a few days. He was in fact transformed. He was no longer the young man barely out of his teens that he had met after waking up in Gero's lab, but a man.
A more mature man.
And whose beauty he noted with pleasure. A wild beauty. His face, with hardened features, was nevertheless more tender than his father's. He had beautiful blue eyes in which 17 read a very exciting confusion. His body seemed to be made only of muscles, strong and solid. A feeling of incredible strength emanated from this Saiyan, whose apparent emotional fragility made him more than desirable for the cyborg.
- Tchhh, I think I don't have much choice, sighed 17 while putting down his coffee.
- What?
- I'm deeply bored here. So if you have nothing better to do, I suggest we try to combine business with pleasure.
- What are you talking about? Trunks asked, before the cyborg came up to him and took his chin and gently put his thumb on it.
- I can't give you back what you lost there, 17 whispered. But there's one thing I know how to fix about you.
- I don't understand...
- Yes, you do. What just happened wasn't an accident. What you tried to do to me, he did to you, didn't he?
- ... No ... well yes, he did ... tried ... Trunks replied, as if hypnotized by 17, whose seductive behavior he perceived, but without anything in his attitude indicating any violence.
- That's what I'm going to fix. I can do something about this wound.
- Stop... no I'm not...
- Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't like it, just a little, when we kissed earlier. You're not disgusted by my touch, are you? Come on, answer me.
But Trunks didn't answer.
He couldn't, unless he had to lie. For there was nothing about 17's touch that was unpleasant to him. For the first time in his life, he took the time to really look at him, like any normal man, and he was surprised not to see the face of his mentor's killer.
And it was only then that he realized how incredibly handsome he actually was.
His long black hair framed a tender and delicate face. His lips were so thin that they looked as if they had been drawn with a single pencil line. But 17's greatest asset was undoubtedly his eyes. Their almond shape and pure blue color were such that he had never seen them in anyone.
No, there was nothing disgusting about the closeness of his body and the delicacy of his skin on his own. On the contrary, Trunks surprised himself by not wanting to push him away at all, by being suddenly taken by a crazy curiosity to know what this 17 meant, what he was going to do to him.
The silence of the Saiyan was all the cyborg was waiting for.
He stepped forward, gently, and whispered to him, lips to lips:
- You're strong enough to stop me, so no stress, you know? I just want to have a little fun, for you and me, okay?
- Why would you...
- Let's say I want to do a good deed.
This answer was given in a breath, and it was with delight that 17 put his mouth against his again, but this time with a lot of softness. Trunks opened his mouth to share a kiss with 17 that was very different from the ones they had already exchanged. This time neither of them resisted, their tongues touching each other with great delicacy. At first shy, the Saiyan let himself be guided by 17's gestures, obviously more experienced. Trunks imitated him, awkwardly, until little by little this strange caress began to produce in him an unexpected effect. The contact of their lips and the sound of their wet tongues clashing never ceased to delight him.
It was an indescribable sensation.
The closeness of their bodies, their faces, their breaths that were beginning to be synchronized, all at the same time gave the duo a feeling of intimacy and warmth quite incredible. Trunks could not say how long this kiss lasted, so much he lost little by little all notion of the world which surrounded him. But when 17 stopped, he let out a groan of annoyance that did not escape the cyborg.
Amused, 17 winked at him.
- You are sulking? he asked while laughing.
- And you're making fun of me!
Trunks' cheeks flushed with a redness that 17 had never seen before. The contrast between the power he knew was his and his timid candor in the face of his caresses caused 17 to feel an intense desire that would not be easy to contain.
- I'm going to have a hard time being gentle with you, Saiyan. Really, he murmured.
Trunks began to blush, though he wasn't sure what 17 had meant. He remained puzzled until the cyborg, still smiling, suddenly took off both of his shirts. He stood there, shirtless, leaving Trunks free to observe his body in detail. The young Saiyan did not expect to see 17, whose power was not the result of years of training or the warrior attributes of his race, as muscular as the one he had. Indeed, he did not have a hypertrophied musculature like his. On the contrary, he was very slender. His arms, torso, and abs were as if carved into his flesh, etched into the marble of his cybernetically hardened skin. Trunks admired him, transfixed. But when 17 reached his pants, he panicked again and signaled for him to stop.
- Wait! Wait, wait, wait!
- What?
- What are you doing?
- I'm undressing. And you should do the same.
- Why?
17 was then taken by an uncontrollable laugh.
- Haha! Yes, it's true, I'm stupid. I should have known when I saw your look that I was dealing with a...
- A what?
- You don't have to know. But I thought you knew enough that I didn't need to explain to you that in order to do what we're about to do, clothes are superfluous.
- No... but I know that... it's just...
- Okay, don't panic Saiyan. You don't need to see. Feeling will be more than enough.
- 17, I don't understand your gibberish.
- I understand myself. Why don't you take off your shirt, and let me do the rest? Unless you want me to?
- No, I can... take care of it myself, Trunks replied, half undressing in return.
Delighted by the spectacle which was offered to him, 17 took the time to let his glance cross with a joy which he did not dissimulate any more each centimetre of this body, virile and powerful, which appeared in front of him such an offering deposited on an altar for his simple entertainment. He shivered with an envy which made vibrate every fiber of his body. He had the strange impression that his blood began to boil, and that he dispersed in all his cells this radiant heat. The beating of his heart became faster and more violent. He felt himself crossed on all sides by this blood flow, pulsating and fast, as if suddenly a fury gave life to his humanity too long asleep. The memory of old sensations overwhelmed him.
The desire to live, and to feel again this ecstasy, similar to no other.
So he moved forward, practically lying on top of Trunks who obeyed his movements in perfect sync. When he was positioned right on top of him, 17 tilted his head slightly to the side to kiss the neck of the young Saiyan who shivered under this new caress. Then, still very gently, 17 moved down, resting his mouth along his neck and chest. He lingered on Trunks' bulging pecs, brushing the flesh with quick movements of his tongue. Trunks let out a cry of surprise, but made no gesture of disapproval. He was nervous, though, and 17 could see the stiffness in his muscles, always on alert. Trunks' attitude showed that he was losing his footing, but this part of him refused to let go. The look on Trunks' face, a restraint of apprehension and worry, but also curiosity, was the most powerful incentive for him.
« We're going to stop playing games, Saiyan, and soon you'll be begging me to do much more to you... »
Returning to Trunks' torso, he went back to his nipples, which he licked greedily, faster and faster, before suddenly taking one between his teeth and squeezing it. This bite, although light, acted on Trunks as if he had pressed a detonator. The pain and pleasure he felt made him scream, but 17 stopped him dead in his tracks, this time with a much stronger kiss than the first. He gave the back and forth of his tongue such an impulse that Trunks could not help but respond with the same intensity. Both moaned between breaths, their breaths becoming shorter and more irregular as a common excitement took hold of them. But 17 did not lose control of his movements. Using his left hand to hold Trunks' face as he continued to kiss him, he subtly moved his right hand to Trunks' underbelly.
When he suddenly placed it on his crotch, Trunks let out a groan, louder than the previous ones.
« This is it... » thought 17, who then began to caress Trunks' sex, whose incipient erection was already felt under the thin fabric that covered it. Combined with the growing pleasure of their kissing, Trunks was still struggling internally between the desire his body was expressing and the fear his mind couldn't shake.
But each kiss, each bite of 17 was gradually breaking the barrier of his modesty. The cyborg was rubbing his right hand over his sex faster and faster, and Trunks could feel the hardening of his penis increasing. He didn't want 17 to stop.
He wanted more.
He was frustrated, he wanted him to grab his sex with his hand, to feel his skin on his, but he was still too hesitant to dare ask.
- Do you want me to stop, Saiyan? 17 whispered suddenly, as if he had sensed that Trunks was on the edge of a precipice.
- If you stop, I'll kill you! Trunks replied, panting.
- I'll take that as a no.
Without further ado, 17 undid the buttons on Trunks' pants one by one and slid them down his legs with relish. The swelling of his penis was at its peak, and he smiled with satisfaction as he saw the young Saiyan no longer offering him any sign of resistance when he also removed his underwear. Returning to his height, he moved his mouth forward so that his lips were as close to Trunks' as possible, so close that their breaths were one.
- More? 17 whispered, brushing his fingertips against Trunks' turgid penis.
- Yes ...
- Then turn around. Stand to the side.
He didn't need to insist or explain anymore. The Saiyan was just a toy in his hands, a toy that 17 wanted to enjoy as much as possible. Once Trunks was lying down, he moved behind him and placed himself against him, skin to skin. In this position, he had total access and control over this body that he wanted with ferocious greed. He used the left arm he had placed under him to hold his partner firmly against him, while bringing his right hand down to Trunks' back.
It was no longer time for tickling and fondling.
The two wanted each other, in the same passion.
One wanted to give, the other wanted to take.
Finally holding in his hand the naked sex of Trunks, 17 began a movement of back and forth which he only accentuated the speed, second after second, minute after minute. He pressed this penis more and more strongly. The young saiyan, overwhelmed by the ecstasy, could not do anything else than to let himself be totally directed by 17 who was impelling an infernal rhythm, of which he did not know if he wanted it to stop or to continue. The sensations that this masturbation procured to him were new, well superior to the solitary pleasure that he had sometimes been able to offer himself. Not to have to concentrate on his own gestures, to have to worry only about the waves of enjoyment which assailed him, had in fact nothing comparable. 17 gave to his caress an unreal frenzy that he could never have given himself alone.
He moaned, shouted, begged, without even realizing it.
Time no longer existed, nor the surrounding world.
There was only him. Just 17.
The latter's excitement was also reaching the point of no return, the one where he would find himself unable to curb his impulses held back for so many years of capture and deprivation.
But Trunks was too precious a toy to risk breaking.
So he stopped his back and forth, moving his right hand to the base of Trunks' neck, before moving back down, following his spine until he reached the top of his butt, which he began to caress gently. Long circular movements, first with the fingertips, then with the whole hand. 17 approached slowly his hand, very close, making slide his fingers of before and back in a terrible caress which went slowly of his sex, returning on his testicles to approach the edges of his anus. He took his time, taking advantage of his perfect position to kiss Trunks on the neck as he got closer to his goal.
He felt the young Saiyan's body, trembling with desire, move slightly forward in an unstated attempt to get away from his touch. But he came back, almost instantly, moaning more and more, begging with his gestures what his mouth could not formulate.
17 decided not to wait any longer.
Trunks was ready, even if he didn't realize it. As for him, the desire to possess this robust body became almost uncontrollable.
So he placed the tip of his middle finger around his entrance one last time and gave it a divine massage. Trunks bit his lips, sensing without admitting it what was going to happen. 17 waited a few more seconds. Just enough to keep up with Trunks' breathing. Then, in the same movement, he inserted his finger in him while seizing his ear which he bit gently. Holding Trunks firmly in his arms, he prevented him from moving away from him this time.
- Shhhh, not this time, he whispered to him as he released the pressure of his lips.
Trunks didn't answer, but he nodded, giving 17 a simple nod so he could continue. The slight pain that the bite had caused had surprised him greatly, but it had given him focus. The sensation of being penetrated had been made easier, and 17 could feel the tension of Trunks' body on his finger. Gently, he moved his finger back and forth, delicately, without forcing anything, watching for the slightest reaction from the young saiyan whose intoxicating warmth was like an exquisite delicacy that he tasted in advance.
Trunks closed his eyes.
He tried not to think of all that was happening, letting himself gradually gain by a form of pleasure that he did not know. The strangeness of this caress, so intimate, faded as he learned to tame it. It was a very soft pleasure, very simple, but of which he did not want to ignore anything.
It was when he heard the sound of 17's belt just behind him that Trunks had the sensation of suddenly coming back to reality. A flash came back to his memory.
That noise.
That presence behind him.
Instinctively, he turned to face 17, ready to fight, ready to scream and fight.
But no.
It wasn't the same one.
The 17 that stood there didn't have that face, terrifying, or that domineering smile that had so haunted him. The one standing behind him was instead calm and reassuring, sure of himself, and his beauty sublimated by the sun's rays crossing the treetops to light them was all the more disturbing.
- I'm not him, 17 said, as if he could see the confusion in his eyes.
- I know, but...
- Do you want me to stop?
- I don't know...
- It's good, right?
- Yes, it's good! Of course it's good.
- So trust me, this is just the beginning. Let yourself go, you'll love the rest.
- I will?
- I am the best. At least on this subject, I still have no competition on this planet.
- Your ability to joke around is truly amazing.
- Trust me, it's not my only talent. You can always kill me if I don't keep my promise.
Suddenly interrupting himself, 17 pushed his middle finger deeper, penetrating Trunks completely this time, who let out a scream that the cyborg smothered, once again, with a brutal and greedy kiss, his tongue roaming the inside of his mouth with the same ardor he gave to his finger.
- But if I hold on, I'll make you cum like no one else will ever do, in your whole life, he said, breathless, as his lips released Trunks'.
Unable to resist further, Trunks was speechless, torn between the incomprehensible urge he felt to give himself to this man and a pride that prevented him from crying out his desire. But 17 did not need words. The silence and the supplication in Trunks' eyes were enough for him.
- I'll take that as a yes, Saiyan, he finally told him. Turn around and enjoy the moment. The rest, everything else, doesn't matter.
Trunks nodded his head in agreement, before obeying him and repositioning himself as he had at the beginning, turning his back on 17 who now had his hand free. Without saying a word, the Saiyan looked straight ahead, attentive to the slightest sound, the slightest movement of the cyborg. He felt his finger withdraw. Then he heard him take off his belt, then slowly undo his pants. Finally, he felt the thin fabric of his underwear slide over 17's skin. It wasn't until 17 stepped forward, pressing his body against his, that Trunks realized that he too was erect. He felt the heavy slap of his hardened penis behind his back, finally released, pressed against his butt.
Trunks closed his eyes.
17 seemed to take a malicious pleasure in prolonging the wait, in not immediately satisfying their mutual thirst. He liked to play, still, and to arouse a form of frustration in the young man amused him a lot. As if the game of hunting was only worth the candle if the prey came to throw itself into the trap. However, when he felt the pressure of this penis against him, ready to penetrate him, no more fear inhabited him.
17 perceived it, and it is with a moan of satisfaction that it entered in him, slowly, gradually. Long strokes, without forcing, without going too far, at the rhythm of Trunks' exhalations. Each time, he was sinking a little more in him. With each new movement, the tightness of this virgin body diminished, like a never-explored path that revealed itself only to him. Trunks began to moan again. Sometimes he bit his lips, signifying to 17 that he was reaching a plateau that the cyborg respected, only to surpass it later. The heat of Trunks enveloped all the sex of 17, a deliciously pleasant heat in which he wanted to enter again, faster and stronger, without ever leaving it. This body that he possessed welcomed him even more with each second that passed. He perceived on his skin the softness of this so tender interior that he penetrated with more and more facility.
17 then accelerated his movement, without warning.
Yes.
He could take another step forward, Trunks was ready.
For his part, the young Saiyan was now letting out small cries, carried by the increasingly powerful jolts of 17's pelvis. He could feel it inside him, almost entirely. He felt this foreign sex invade his whole being in a brutal caress, almost painful, but which he could not do without. The pleasure came, gradually. He let himself abandon there, avid to know more, to see towards which horizons the cyborg wanted to take it along. The contact of his body became more and more intense. Their skins were now covered with a sweat whose drops intermingled so much they were close, stuck the one to the other, merged the one and the other in an embrace which seemed to never have to know end.
- Give me... more...
Trunks' whimpering voice was heard.
A call that 17 did not ignore.
Immediately, he came to meet that demanding mouth and kissed it greedily. Their wet tongues clashed with a new complicity, as if they had always known each other, as if they had always made love together. The force that 17 gave to his penetration increased still, intoxicated that he was by the taste of this kiss in which drops of sweat mixed with the saliva of Trunks, always more supplicant.
Almost out of breath, 17 finally broke off their kiss to reply:
- I'll give you more, more than you can handle, Saiyan.
Still keeping his left arm firmly planted on Trunks' pecs, he used his right hand to grab Trunks' penis once more. Holding it firmly between his fingers, he immediately began to masturbate the young Saiyan, with a rhythm that he imposed as immediately fast and powerful.
Back and forth.
Fast.
Hard.
This time, Trunks let out a scream that he could not hold back and that echoed far away in the forest that hid their lovemaking from the rest of the world. Seized by a wave of pleasure of unheard of violence, he could no longer contain the force of his moans. To feel at the same time the pleasure of the stimulation of his sex and that to be penetrated, to be subjected and satisfied at the same time, the mixture of his sensations in apparently contradictory formed a cocktail which literally exploded in his veins. His mind could not concentrate any more, submerged on all sides by an uninterrupted flow of pleasure coming from everywhere and from nowhere at the same time. 17 was playing wonderfully with the confusion he was creating in Trunks. The precision of his movements was unreal, and he himself didn't really know where the intuitions that guided him came from. But he knew what he was doing, and where he was going.
Hearing the young Saiyan's complaints, feeling the pulsations of his body whose movements were more and more synchronized with his own.
He knew that the moment was near.
That both of them would soon be unable to hold back the ecstasy that would soon overtake them.
When Trunks suddenly grabbed his left arm, long grunts escaping from his half-opened mouth, he knew the moment had finally come.
Their eyes closed simultaneously, and 17 then did not retain anything more of the power of the back and forth that he gave to his pelvis as to his hand. Finishing to take him, totally, completely, without any more limit, he let himself take by this pleasure, so long contained, so long retained, which asked only to resurface of the depths of his human soul that Gero had never succeeded in suppressing.
The flame of his humanity rekindled, for a brief moment, when he felt the flow of his pleasure escaping from him. For those few seconds, his mind was totally fogged, so much so that he felt pure energy, more than a sensation, immaterial, until he fell back, inert, out of breath and barely conscious, clinging to reality only by the lifting of Trunks' back muscles who was also struggling to breathe. The young saiyan was also regaining control of his distressed senses with great difficulty. His ejaculation had surprised him with its speed and strength. The magnitude of his own pleasure had been such that he had screamed with happiness, even though, without either of them noticing, 17 had instinctively covered his mouth with his left hand to muffle his cry.
Still in shock at what had just happened, Trunks watched as 17 slowly withdrew, a few drops of hot semen dripping from his penis to fall on the young Saiyan's thigh. Without turning around, Trunks heard 17 take a deep breath, before sighing and standing up without a word.
The sound of footsteps moving away from his position alerted him, however, and Trunks turned abruptly.
- Where are you going? he asked 17, who was already disappearing behind the trees.
- There's a lake around here. I'm going to wash up there.
The tone of his voice was calm, neutral, with none of the emotion Trunks had sensed seconds before. Without being unpleasant, he was again this rather cold and inexpressive being who was finally much more familiar to him.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Trunks realized that he too was covered in sweat and dirt. Hurriedly picking up his clothes from the ground, he followed 17's footsteps and quickly arrived at the edge of a large area of fresh water, about a hundred meters away. In the distance, he quickly saw the figure of 17 who had already entered the lake. He was running his hands along the back of his neck, and Trunks immediately noticed a thin layer of white foam covering the entire un-submerged part of his body, right down to his long black hair, which he was carefully rubbing.
Although it was obvious that he had noticed his presence, 17 paid no attention to Trunks. He didn't look at him at all and didn't react when the young Saiyan joined him in the water.
Suddenly, 17 sat down in the water, temporarily disappearing from Trunks' view, only to reappear, just as suddenly, a few feet away. Leaning on the grassy edges of the lake, he pulled himself up in one motion and sat there, only his feet still invisible beneath the surface.
- Are you going to stand there and watch me again? he said to Trunks, who was startled to see himself brutally challenged again.
- Uh ... no I ...
- You're really more than goofy, poor thing. You know that water alone won't wash you?
- I didn't think to bring soap with me.
- Come here, idiot, replied 17 with a slight wave of his hand.
Stung by the cyborg's malice, Trunks moved towards him, crossing the lake in only three furious movements of his powerful arms. When he reached him, he was about to answer when 17 held out his right hand, in which was a kind of greenish foam.
- Rub it on yourself. I don't know what kind of plant it is, but a local guy explained to me that it makes a kind of foam to lather up.
- A guy? But...
- I didn't kill him, if that's what you're wondering. I just asked him. Who do you think I buy coffee from anyway?
- You... pay for what you take?
- Yes, I do.
- With what money?
- He cuts down trees. He's a lumb-thing.
- A lumberjack?
- I guess so. And so we have an agreement. I cut down the trees he needs, and he gives me money for it, or he brings me stuff I need. Super easy money, cutting down trees only takes me two minutes. You see, I'm having a great time here.
- And why don't you... steal?
- Because I don't want your old man to come and blow me up.
17 was ironic, as usual, but something wasn't right. Trunks had to face the fact that this cyborg was not like the one he had known in his day. Yet, the attitude of the one in front of him was very disturbing: he had the same character trait, that hateful propensity for sarcasm, but he was clearly overplaying his amusement.
In fact, he seemed to be pretending to be joking.
Pretending to laugh.
As if he were actually... sad. There was something about him, not well hidden by the smile he wore, which was nothing like the one he knew.
Intrigued, Trunks began to rub himself with the moss, thinking about their last discussion. When he had attacked him, 17 had not fought back. The fact that he was lucid about the power gap between them now made sense, this 17 was clearly much more thoughtful than the one in his timeline. But still... he'd completely let himself be taken in. His monologue had clearly stunned him, as a great underlying pain emanated from his words. What happened next was so unexpected that he couldn't really think about this strange speech.
« 17, sad? But why? Well, yes, Cell, all that. Here, but by the way, where is... »
The young Saiyan's thoughts were interrupted when he noticed that the cyborg was still watching him, not missing a single movement of his hands along his body as he soaped himself. Feeling monstrously embarrassed, Trunks blushed again and stammered, awkwardly:
- Can you stop? It looks like you're checking me out!
- But that's exactly what I'm doing, replied 17, hilariously, with a libidinous gleam in his eyes.
- Stop it or I'll throw a kikoha in your face!
- Relax, I'm reminding you that we just had sex, Saiyan. I had a clear view of every inch of your body, it's not like you have anything to hide from me anymore.
- Yes, well, the reverse isn't necessarily true.
- But please, admire!
Putting his money where his mouth was, 17 spread his arms and legs, taking a kind of "artistic" pose that did not hide any detail of his anatomy. And without him being able to do anything to prevent it, Trunks swept a glance at his body, from top to bottom, lingering much more than he would have liked on his sex that he seemed to take a malicious pleasure to agitate under his eyes.
- Are we equal now? Be careful I am going to end up making you pay the sight, resumed the cyborg, with a mocking air.
But 17 did not have the opportunity to finish his sentence. Trunks, taking his turn to lean on the edge of the lake, had just jumped in a fraction of a second to put his lips against those of the cyborg. Surprised, the latter stepped back almost immediately, and both remained there to observe each other for a short moment. Surprised, the latter stepped back almost immediately, and both stood there watching each other for a brief moment.
- Stop it, Trunks finally said, his eyes locked on 17's.
Then, without further explanation, the cyborg put his hand on the back of Trunks' head and brought him to him, responding to his initiative with a long, almost tender kiss, which they ended only after endless minutes. Face to face, they continued to stare at each other in disbelief. Trunks didn't really know why he had done this, but this new kiss had convinced him of one thing: by the gentleness that the cyborg had known how to put in his gestures and the delicacy of his tongue, he had felt that he had succeeded in reaching a little bit of what was hidden behind the barrier of sarcasm that 17 had erected around him. He had perceived the great melancholy that encircled his heart like a lead coffin.
And he had been taken by the irrepressible desire to do something for him.
- Do you finally know what you want, Saiyan? asked the 17 after a long silence.
- Let's say I want to do a good deed.
Drawing on all his imagination, Trunks plunged his body halfway into the water, reaching 17's lower abdomen. Then, after a deep breath, he took in his mouth his sex which, at first at rest, quickly began to harden at the tasty contact of this hot and wet mouth which coated it. Emboldened by this first success, Trunks began to rock slowly, back and forth, soon helped by 17 who grabbed his hair to better guide his movement. The cyborg smiled, even if nobody could see it, at the clumsiness of Trunks who tried to please him with a seriousness that amused him a lot. Then he closed his eyes, willingly letting himself do it, finally very happy of what this physical contact revived in him.
- Pull your teeth back in and use your tongue, Saiyan, he murmured simply, letting out a long sigh of pleasure from time to time.
Trunks then followed his instructions, sucking his short-lived partner with much more joy than he had expected, satiating himself with him, feeding on him. For 17, this fellatio was divine. Not by its imperfect technique, but by its totally unselfish and impromptu nature. A gift that life offered to him, he who had for a long time lost all hope, and whose thoughts were only a heap of regrets leaving a permanent bitter taste in his throat. But when he felt the wave announcing his orgasm rising in him, he interrupted Trunks to put his sex between his two hands.
- Continue this way, Saiyan, he said, leaving Trunks confused, almost disappointed.
- Am I doing it wrong?
- No, but let's just say that at least I know you can do it. You've done it before, right?
- Yes, well... on me not on...
- It's the same thing, don't worry. And then...
- And then what?
- You're still too much of a virgin to... well, do as I say. You know how this works, right?
- Yeah, I should be fine without your help this time, Trunks replied with a smile.
Up and down.
Front to back.
Quickly, then more slowly,
then faster still, lingering on the sensitive tip of his cock for a few seconds. Just long enough.
Increasing or releasing the pressure of his hands, according to his desire and the mimics of 17's face that he did not leave any more of eyes.
Trunks knew how to make him reach the paroxysm of the masturbatory pleasure, the simplest, the most visceral pleasure of men. A mechanical pleasure, easy to achieve, but one that he loved to provide, savoring every moan, every sigh, every flinch he guessed on 17's features as he tilted his head back when the moment of his deliverance came. Trunks felt on his epidermis the shivers of this body which stiffened completely, before releasing just as quickly and completely, while a hoarse rattle escaped from the half-closed lips of the cyborg. To see him thus, to lose consciousness in his turn, to cum under the only action of his hands, was an incredible sensation. A ridiculous pride but very pleasant, and Trunks could not stop laughing.
- Haha, that looks like a draw, he said confidently to 17, who didn't seem the least bit impressed.
- Are you so sure?
The cyborg's gaze had indeed just landed on Trunks' chest, still splattered with drops of semen running down his pecs. His smirk immediately plunged Trunks into a sea of shame, and the young man immediately sank into the waters, only coming out to grab a huge handful of foam from which he frantically soaped his body until it was red.
- You're so cute when you blush, Trunks, I've never noticed that about you before, continued a more amused 17.
- Anyway, I noticed your sense of humor.
- Stop acting like it's the end of the world. You had pleasure, and so did I. Don't be silly, there are worse ways to start the day, don't you think?
- Yes, when you look at it that way, it is indeed hard to... to argue, Trunks admitted, smiling again.
For a brief moment, their thoughts joined in a laugh that they shared for the first, and probably last, time. Then 17 stood up, and after one last look in the direction of the lake, he turned again to head in where they had met. Trunks watched him walking away for a moment, before realizing that the cyborg hadn't put his clothes back on yet and that he was almost hypnotized by the vision of his muscular butt that not an ounce of fabric covered.
« Kami ! What is wrong with me ? » thought he, distraught, before throwing himself out of water and running to join him.
The atmosphere had become much more serene, free of any tension. A whole hour had passed since they had come out of the lake. An hour that had allowed them to dry off, to get dressed and to prepare a second round of coffee, of which 17 had become very fond since the lumberjack he had met had introduced him to it.
Sitting side by side, they were sipping a cup in silence, when Trunks' stomach made itself heard loudly.
- Sorry... stammered the young Saiyan when his gurgling had calmed down.
- I guess you're hungry?
- Yes, I am... I left without eating and...
- Sorry, I have nothing for you. I don't need food to live, so I don't buy it.
- Yeah, you don't need it since you became a cyborg, right?
- Yes, that's right.
- So it's true...
- What ?
- Krillin and I found your plans, in Gero's laboratory.
- Ah. Yes. Now I understand better how the gnome ended up with a remote deactivation device.
- The what? Well yes, that's how my mother was able to make it. Our goal was to use it to disable 18 and... well... But Krillin didn't really do what we agreed.
- Yeah. And I still haven't figured out why.
- Oh, it's obvious it's because he's in lo...
But the disgusted and almost angry look that 17 gave him dissuaded Trunks from finishing his sentence. Preferring to quickly change the subject, he chose to return as quickly as possible to his initial question.
- It doesn't matter anyway. But how do you know about the remote?
- Because I saw it. Inside Cell.
- Oh yes. I didn't know that... you were still ... alive ... at that time.
- I can imagine.
- So you were a human then. My mother told me that you were created from a human being.
- I wasn't created by the other sick old man. I became a cyborg against my will, that's all. It's much simpler.
- I thought I knew everything about you. Actually, I was way off base...
- Yeah. It's the same thing. I had a lot of certainties too, but I didn't know that there was a stinking cockroach rotting somewhere and that it had to swallow me. So, one missing piece of information, and that changes everything...
This conversation was surreal.
Trunks never thought he would find himself drinking coffee with 17, chatting with him by the fire, as if nothing had happened.
But he had a much stronger feeling about the cyborg sitting just to his right than he had anticipated. Even though it wasn't 17 in his timeline, it suddenly seemed to him that there was a special bond between their fates. Something that made him want to know more.
- What was your life like before? When you were still a human?
Trunks had asked his question without much conviction as to his chances of getting an answer. He expected 17 to reprimand him harshly or use yet another joke as a dodge. But none of that happened.
To his surprise, 17 replied, calmly, his eyes once again lost in the orange glow of the flames before him.
- I don't remember it. Gero erased our memories.
- Did he? How do you know that?
- No idea, ask your mother, if she could read my plans she might know how to answer you.
- Aren't you curious to know?
- No, I'm not curious. I don't care. I have kept all the necessary knowledge from my old life. Even though I hadn't practiced for a long time. But I think I did pretty well, right?
- It was pretty good indeed, replied Trunks, whose smile and seductive look at 17 had not escaped his notice.
- Cool.
- Although I was surprised. Despite what... well, I didn't think you were really... attracted to...
- I don't know what I'm attracted to. I just wanted to. It's as simple as that. It brought back good memories, I guess.
- I'm glad I made you remember things about your sexuality 17.
- And I'm glad I introduced you to yours, Trunks.
They both looked at each other and laughed. Yes, this conversation made no sense, but it was surprisingly natural, and the young Saiyan didn't want to end it before asking the last question that still intrigued him.
- May I ask what you meant earlier when you said you lost everything?
17 paused for a moment, taking the time to take another sip of coffee. He wasn't the type to spend hours recounting his life, nor was he the type to confess anything about his thoughts that had become increasingly obscure since his resurrection.
But he wanted to answer his question.
Why did he want to answer him?
Perhaps because he knew that Trunks was not of this world, that he would soon leave, and that he would never see him again. Or maybe for another reason, more difficult to perceive and qualify for him who had forgotten so much of his past.
- There were two of us. Then three. This trip... was... fun. I don't know what I imagined I would experience next, or where it would all lead me. But I was... I don't know... happy. Freedom. We spent four days very ... and then suddenly ...
He articulated with difficulty, as if the words could not leave his mouth without pain. As if each syllable was a torture, that he had to rip them out one by one to extract them from the straitjacket of a pain deeply buried inside him. Trunks didn't interrupt him, letting the stream of these liberating words flow. 17's words were rambling, his speech confused and incomplete, but he understood the meaning.
He, too, had experienced the pangs of loneliness.
That terrible burning that can be caused by the loss of those we love.
This pain that does not stop, that becomes obsessive, that takes possession of every thought, of every second of every day that passes.
Trunks suddenly realized where this feeling of closeness that he felt towards 17 came from. It came from their common pain, the one he had seen in his eyes when he had attacked him. That feeling of emptiness, that anger, the difficult path to acceptance. He had been through all that many times, especially when Gohan died.
Trunks realized what 17 had really meant when he had mentioned that he had remained conscious after his absorption.
That he had seen 18 be absorbed, and 16 die.
« How would I have reacted if I had witnessed Gohan's death without being able to do anything about it? »
This question came to him, suddenly, and he didn't really dare imagine the answer.
Trunks realized that he had next to him a being far more human than he had thought possible. A human who was navigating a cold and dark terrain, and he was facing this difficult ordeal alone.
For, on reflection, one thing was now obvious to him, and he did not want to keep it to himself.
- Where's 18? he asked, attentive enough to notice the veil that immediately obscured 17's gaze.
- If you're in the mood for a second round and you're worried about her showing up, rest assured. She won't come.
- That wasn't my question...
- So I can't answer you. She's gone, and I don't know where.
- But why?
- No... idea. She just said it was time for us to... go our separate ways. Anyway, some crap like that, I didn't really understand. But anyway, when my sister has an idea in her head, no matter what I say, it never changed anything.
- Yes... is it true that she's your sister?
- You thought she was my girlfriend too?
- Uh... yes, well... you guys are always together, all the time, always... so... close...
- Yes, but not anymore.
- I think not.
- Why not?
- Look: some things are not the same, but you are also not completely different from the 17 and 18 I knew. And one thing is for sure: there is something very strong between you. In my world, you were always arguing, all the time, often over petty things, but nothing could keep you apart. It's even strange to see how, when you fight together, you are the same. Invincible. I'm not going to tell you that I understand what may have motivated 18, but sooner or later your paths will cross again. Nothing can break what's between you. You are twins, right? What do you think?
17 raises an incredulous eyebrow, before taking another very large sip of coffee.
- I think you were making much better use of your mouth an hour ago.
Trunks' complexion turned scarlet, but he laughed heartily at this new dodge he had not expected.
- Haha, okay, message received. I'll keep my mouth shut.
- It's better.
- Okay. So I guess it's time for me to go.
- Yes. You have a lot of things to do, and they can't really wait.
- No. Uh... 17 ?
- Yeah?
- Well, you take care of yourself.
- Are you worried about me, sweetheart? 17 replied, nonchalantly crossing his hands over his chest.
Trunks didn't let himself be fooled by this posture that he knew well at home, but which he knew at this very moment was only falsely disdainful.
- Stop joking, just for five minutes. I was being serious.
- Don't be.
- Yes, I am. I mean it. You're not my enemy, I understand that, and I sincerely wish that...
- If you are serious, all the more reason to keep quiet. I don't need your concern, I haven't become so pathetic that I need it.
- I didn't mean to... Trunks stammered, before he suddenly understood.
17 was proud, as his father could be. Probably a little too much, a sometimes stupid pride that put them both in a bad place, but it was a real trait. And what Trunks thought was caring attention was actually seen by them as condescension that pointed out their weaknesses and flaws.
The cyborg was not upset, he felt the calmness still noticeable in his voice.
But he didn't want to inspire pity.
Then Trunks changed his mind and said with a smile:
- Understood. But I'm not worried. I know you will be fine here.
- I won't disturb the peace of this world. I won't cause any problem.
- I wasn't talking about that.
- As far as I'm concerned, I'll be fine. I've gotten out of far more complicated situations. No matter what happens, I always find a way out. With or without 18.
- I have no doubt about that.
- You can leave quietly. And by the way...
- What?
- Will you think about our ride through the woods when you blow the head off the 17 of your time?
- ARE YOU CRAZY ? shouted Trunks as he leapt to his feet, IT'S... COMPLETELY ...
- Exciting?
- DISGUSTING !
- You're really too much of a virgin again, otherwise you'd agree with me, 17 replied as his famous smirk returned to his face.
- GOOD! I think we've said it all ! I... I am leaving. Goodbye, because I don't think I'll ever have to come back.
- Bye.
Accompanying this last word with a wave of his hand, 17 did not get up, pretending to be perfectly indifferent to Trunks' departure.
He didn't look at him as the young Saiyan rose into the air, disappearing into the sky as he made his way back to Capsule Corp headquarters, ready to finally return home to free his time from the yoke of the cyborgs, lighthearted, free of a weight he didn't know he carried.
No.
17 did not react, continuing to watch the crackling flames of the fire that ended before him.
But he was smiling.
« Finally, it looks like there are still fun things to do on this planet, » he thought, letting out a long, satisfied sigh that was lost in the secrecy of the woods.