Rated M for mature subjects, language, and sexual situations.


2. Week 2: I Miss You

This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.

She never should have agreed to it. What kind of idiot suggests that he and his wife take a ? He was a moron, an absolute moron with no common sense and an ego the size of Russia.

And she missed him so much it hurt.

Dropping her fork next the plate of take-out, Pan huffed out a tired breath as she stared at the empty space opposite her. Her husband should have been sitting there, talking politics or sports, or work, or just smiling at her as they ate in silence. And she should have been listening, but not really caring about anything he spoke of.

They didn't argue all the time, he was over exaggerating. They could always get through dinner without snapping at each other, but it never lasted through the evening activities such as television or a workout in the gym. Either of them would find a flaw in the other's day and exploit it, or an argument would arise out of something as simple as why Trunks had bought her something new--again--or why Pan kept leaving clothes strewn across the bedroom floor.

Trunks had never had a problem when it was him who had thrown her clothes across the bedroom floor in an effort to get her naked. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but the thought of making love with Trunks only made Pan sink deeper into her misery.

He had been right, of course. The bastard was always right. Their sex life had been flushed down the toilet by some unnamed force. A quarter of her closet space was dedicated to the lingerie Trunks had bought her, or she had bought in an effort to surprise him. It had always worked, of course, as their physical attraction to each other was undeniable. Pan had lost count of how many expensive sets of bras and panties Trunks had torn in their time spent heating the sheets.

They had tried just about everything, a bit of bondage here, some dirty suggestions murmured in each others ears at the supermarket. Not to mention the naughty phone sex they had embarked on when Trunks had to travel.

Maybe that was it, Pan thought as she leaned back in her chair, hugging her arms as the sun began to set at her back. Maybe they had run out of ideas, maybe sex had just gotten boring.

She closed her eyes. No, that wasn't it. Sex could never get boring, even if you had fallen out of love. But Trunks had said he still loved her, and Pan knew that she loved him. That wasn't it, she was sure. So why was she questioning her feelings for her husband?

Pan opened her eyes and stared down at her lap. The plain gold wedding band and the matching diamond stud winked up at her. They were symbols of love and devotion, that was what marriage was about. Trunks was still devoted to her, Pan knew, and she was faithful to him. But why did it seem like their love had faded?

It wasn't that they didn't love each other anymore. It had simply faded, like an article of sun-bleached clothing; it still existed, it just wasn't as potent.

Pan just didn't know what had caused the fade out.

They were young and in love, what more did you need to have a healthy marriage? After all, everything had been fine for the first few years. And then a rift had started to form.

Pan fidgeted in her seat, annoyed that she couldn't put her finger on the catalyst. Their personalities hadn't always meshed, after all, he was quite a bit older than she was and had a habit of calling her immature.

Pan sniffed. She was not immature. Trunks was just a registered tight-ass most of the time. Sure, he knew how to throw a damn good party, but he only wanted to have a good time when it suited his needs. Pan was always in the mood for a good time.

Liking to have a good time didn't make you immature, did it?

Pan sighed, resting her elbows on the table and rubbing her temples in an attempt to ward off the headache that was stirring behind her eyebrows.

Fuck it, she muttered and scraped back her chair. Her barely touched take-out was dumped unceremoniously in the trash as Pan went to lock herself in the bedroom. She wouldn't think about the situation, or him, for the rest of the night.

Then, halfway up the stairs, Pan was bombarded with thoughts of what went on in their bedroom; breathless moans and whispers, their naked bodies damp with sweat.

Pan closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way her stomach dipped at the thought. Touching a hand lightly to her midriff, Pan turned back towards the living room and the empty house.

---

Trunks had gone almost a full 2 weeks without thinking about his wife. Well, thinking about her sexually, anyway. Now, as he stood under the pulsing spray of the shower, steam billowing around him, he was reminded of when they had been dating and he had taken her in this same shower.

That had been what, 8, 9 years ago? He had just been easing into his position as head of Capsule Corporation and Pan had been fresh out of high school. It had been a particularly hard day at the office and Pan had joined him in the shower after they had had a spat right in front of his parents. She hadn't been shaken, however, and had massaged the tension from his shoulders under the same spray of water he was currently under. Alone.

He remembered the way those nimble fingers had eased the rippling tension from his back and shoulders. He remembered the way her naked breasts had pressed wet and soft against his back. And most of all, Trunks remembered her quiet moans as he took her against the shower wall and she begged him faster, harder, and deeper.

Nothing much had changed about Pan since then. She worked a steady job now, managing a local gym and teaching fitness classes. She wasn't a girl any longer, but an immature woman, if that made sense. She certainly didn't possess the body of a girl anymore. Her curves were small but defined, her eyes sharp and mature when she spat childishly at him, and her movements smooth and feminine when they were in bed together.

Trunks bit his lower lip as the familiar arousal spread through him. He switched the water down several degrees and felt his skin pimple with goose-flesh.

He hadn't wanted her this desperately in months. Whenever she was around him she struck a nerve that only made him want to argue with her. The childish stubbornness that she brought into their arguments only fueled his anger. So why did thinking about her hissing at him and calling him names turn him on?

Trunks had wanted this time away so he wouldn't have to think about Pan. Now he found himself thinking about her more than he did when he knew he was coming home to her. It was strange, but some part of him had grown accustom to her snide remarks and unorganized living habits.

He hated Pan as much as he loved her, and that was a deadly combination.

Trunks may have wanted her right then, but that still didn't explain why he hadn't found himself pining for her in the last few months. Maybe it was the whole marriage thing. He had told himself that they wouldn't end up as most married couples did: Having no sexual relations and becoming more like friends than husband and wife.

When they had dated there had been spans of time where they hadn't seen each other, and that made the passion all the more intense when they finally came together. So maybe that was it, he had come to take Pan for granted since he was always coming home to her now that they were married. But that usually happened slowly, didn't it? Things had just come to an abrupt halt all of a sudden. There had been no warning and suddenly all they wanted to do was argue with each other when they got home.

Except for dinner, they had never argued over dinner.

Trunks rubbed a hand over the day's stubble on his jaw and then shifted his weight under the spray, pressing both hands against the slick wall.

They could always laugh and joke through dinner, and then things seemed to fall to pieces after the meal was over. A night didn't seem to go by when they hadn't argued over one thing or another. Many times it had been about insignificant things that weren't worth a fight. But they would always duke it out, no matter what, neither admitting they were wrong.

Now, as Trunks thought about their arguments, he saw Pan more clearly. The way that sweet little mouth would spew curses at him, or how she'd drag a hand through all of that gorgeous hair and roll her eyes at him when she got thoroughly annoyed. Why hadn't he noticed those things before?

The way she'd have to stand on her tip-toes to shout in his face, the way she'd purr like a kitten under his caress. . .

Trunks groaned and leaned his forehead against the shower wall. He wanted her, desperately, and they were only two weeks into the agreement. He wanted her beneath him, moaning, gasping, and begging. . .or on top of him, pleasuring her body with his own, those sexy little hips straining as she fisted her hands in her hair and moaned his name.

Trunks opened his eyes with a gasp, realizing his right hand had automatically slid between his legs, trying to relieve the throb that pulsed there. He reluctantly pulled his hand away, cursing himself.

Pan wouldn't be pining for him like this, getting herself off to thoughts of what he'd do to her if they were together. She was probably still pissed off at him for suggesting this arrangement. Trunks would be lucky if she ever forgave him for this. Pan was known to hold a grudge, especially against her husband.

He could go back to her right now, apologize and have his way with her, but that would mean she won. Well, she wasn't going to win and she wasn't going to rub it in his face. This ache wouldn't last, and in a few weeks Pan would be the one begging for him to come home.

Turning the tap all the way to the right, Trunks shuddered as the icy blast of water rained down on him.

. . .to be continued.


OK, so the last part was a little hotter than I had intended. I'm sorry, writing about Trunks in the shower just puts all these juicy images in my head. And, of course, he needs to suffer for what he did to Pan. I hope it tickled you fancy.

Carpe Diem and all that good shit. Keep it crunk.