Disclaimer: I am far too lazy to come up with quite a complex series such as Dragon ball Z. I don't own it, nor do I wish I owned it, because that sounds like a lot of work…

Summary: 14 drabbles about Goten and Trunks' Valentine's Day.

Word count: 1517

Rated M for language, sexual scenes, etc.

This contains the sex.

Our First Valentine's Day

Drabble #11- Roses (revised)

Contrary to Japanese traditions, Trunks did not make a habit of taking baths. He wasn't particularly averse to them, they just seemed inconvenient, and an unnecessary waste of water. He wasn't crazy about the thought of marinating in his own filth, either.

That didn't stop Goten from being an exasperating romantic—nothing could stop that.

He does not question how Goten did it so discreetly. Trunks found that once he was engrossed in his work, the rest of the world might as well not even exist (Once Goten had cooked a whole meal plus dessert around Trunks, who sat completely oblivious at the kitchen counter). He just knows that one minute he's stretching his tired muscles after submitting his newly revised essay, and the next he's being led into their newly transformed bathroom.

Goten went all out, it seemed. The light was turned off, their eyesight supported only by the shiny candles Goten had lined up against the rim of the tub, making the porcelain twinkle. The room smelled sweet, there was music—subtle yet sultry—chiming from the cell phone left on the sink, and a glass of white wine rested untouched next to the candles.

The deciding factor that held it all together, however, was most definitely the roses. The deep red petals were everywhere—scattered amongst the rug and floor; dispersed along the candles; in the water, floating atop the bubbles.

He's not sure where Goten got the roses or the candles or this whole idea in general on such short notice, but he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was only struck with the desire to get the fuck in.

"Goten, you really don't have to waste gallons of water just to get me to relax," he had said, because he wasn't immune to Japanese obligatory politeness, "but since it's already done you might as well waste it with me."

"Right, because you don't take hour long showers every night or anything," Goten pointed out as he removed his shirt.

Trunks, of course, denied such a claim— "Forty minutes, maybe"—which made Goten laugh, and then they were in together. They attempted to talk, but then of course they had to cuddle while they talked, and then touch a bit while they cuddled, and that of course spiraled down and down until it eventually ended with Trunks' mouth around Goten's dick.

Trunks loved the moans that graced his ears as he bobbed his head to whichever pace he liked. He unfortunately didn't get to touch it with his hands too much in hopes to keep as much suds off it as possible. At times there were a few traces of the bitter tasting soap, but not enough to make him stop. He didn't do it often, but he figured Goten deserved a reward for his efforts. Also, well, stimulus aside, there was just something so enticing about having the confident, rugged, sexual deviant that was Goten writhing under his control.

Maybe Trunks was a bit of a pervert too. Only a little bit though.

Moments later—while Goten was still panting and his eyes were still glazed—Trunks had maneuvered so his back was against his chest, and his legs straddled over his. Trunks didn't start out slow—he hardly ever did when he was on top. He rode himself on Goten fast, his hands nearly knocking over the candles as he braced himself. It was unreal how good it felt to have Goten inside of him. If he wasn't 100% certain it would only inflate the Son's ego (and if it wasn't fucking embarrassing), he might have told him that.

Goten's testosteronic vigor was soon quickly recovered, and his hands found themselves on Trunks hips, coaxing his body into even more zeal and passion. Not that Trunks minded—he liked Goten just as much, if not more, this way. He also kept this to himself, because of, you know, the ego thing.

Goten's hands didn't stay there on his hips of course—he'd always been handsy. They were all over—kneading his waist; skimming his abs; pawing his chest. Then they were hugging him, pulling his body close so his lips could replace them, his tongue assaulting all of Trunks' sensitive parts like they were the sweetest of candy.

Trunks didn't try to be quiet, especially not with all the pleasurable factors attacking his body all at once. He definitely wasn't quiet when he came, Goten's name ripping from his throat and ringing about the walls of the little room before his body slumped against his equally spent partner.

Moments went by as he let Goten hold him while he sipped at his nearly forgotten wine, most of them spent with Trunks absently wondering if he was willing to wash his still dry hair in water that had semen floating in it. He quickly decided that it wasn't important, and when the silence grew too great, he found himself asking the question that had been bugging him since that day in the toy shop.

"Goten, how many kids do you want?"

"Kids?"

Trunks picked up a petal and rolled it between his fingers. "Yeah."

"Hmm," Goten hummed in thought before finally: "Three."

Trunks turned his head to look up at him. That wasn't exactly the number he had been hoping to hear, but it was still lower than expected. "Why three?"

Goten smiled down at him. "I figured you wouldn't appreciate if I said four."

Trunks paled. Four was pretty close to seven.

"How many do you want?" Goten asked. "And please don't say none."

That had been the first response that popped in his mind. "One, I guess." Even that seemed like a lot.

Goten laughed. "You really hate kids, don't you?" he said, and there was absolutely no accusation in his tone but Trunks felt it regardless.

Trunks sighed. "It's not that I hate them, I just... they're a lot of work, you know? Like you've got to feed them and put their clothes on for them and they're always walking around with snot on their faces and sticky hands and that's really gross. And yeah, they're cute but they're also really annoying too. I mean, their brains are like, irritatingly simplistic. Like, I might not mind an older child I could have a real conversation with, but if I had to talk to about dinosaurs or barbies all day my head would honestly probably explode. And they're always there! I mean, when I get sick of Bra, I can just pass her back to my mother or father. I don't have to lose sleep when she decides she's not tired yet, or take care of her when she's sick, or yell at her when she misbehaves like my parents do."

Trunks sighed and curled deeper into Goten's chest because everything he was afraid of made so much sense now, and it was hard to say, but he'd say it anyway. "If she was my kid, I would be the one everyone was passing her back to. She would be my responsibility, and that's... that's kind of scary, don't you think?"

Goten hummed, tilting his head like he was thinking of his answer before finally giving it. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous too. I think everyone is worried about being a good parent one day. But it's not a bad kind of scary. It's more like when we fought Buu together, or when I asked you to marry me and part of me thought you might say no."

Trunks gives him an incredulous look. "How in the hell are those not 'bad kinds' of scary?"

Goten stared at him, his expression looking almost confused by the question. "Because I had you with me, obviously. If we're together then everything always works out. Even if we'd lost the fight or you said no, I knew you'd always be with me. Why should I be afraid of being a dad if you're going to be a dad right beside me?"

Trunks blinked. Then, "huh."

"Yeah," Goten grinned at him. "Huh."

Trunks thought for a moment. It was a long moment— long enough for him to take a sip of his wine and learn that the petal in his hand was deeper in color than the rest and had a tiny tear in it. Minutes passed by—minutes that he could have let their conversation end, and Goten seemed perfectly content with that.

Still, he finally found himself saying with only a little bit of reluctance, "How about two... and we will maybe visit the topic of another one at a muchlater date."

The look Goten gave him had started out shocked, but quickly morphed into a smile so dazzlingly bright that Trunks had to look away lest it start blinding him, feeling oddly embarrassed. He went back to contemplating his petal, all while wondering about toy boxes, and diapers, and a sticky-faced child with lavender hair and dark eyes calling him Dad.

It wasn't a horrible thought, all things considered.

End

This universe is complete, and I currently and probably never will have any plans to continue once this story is finished. Their imaginary child's features aside, how exactly they have their future children is up to the reader's interpretation.