Touch
Son Goku
Out of all of them, he is content with the touch he gets.
He could use more, or he could use less. Unlike the others, he never had touch and then lost it. He never had the feeling of another beneath his hands. Instead, he had nothing but the feeling of hard rock beneath his hands for so long. He could feel nothing but the roughness that scratched his palms and dirtied his skin.
After so many years, he couldn't even tell the difference between the feeling of his own skin in comparison to the rock. He had no other warmth besides the little the sun provided him. He was so cold he went numb, and after so many years he didn't know what another person felt like. He could never remember having contact with another person, but he had to have, right? Why would he want it so much if he hadn't already had a taste of it?
So he sat, the palms of his hands worn away after years and years and years. He went without touch for so long, everything felt the same. There was no difference between the feeling of his hair or his skin or the rock he sat on. It was all the same.
Then, a hand outstretched to him, and when he grabbed on, it felt like he was rejuvenated. He could feel the softness in the man's skin that saved him, and in the trees and the grass. Suddenly, he had to touch everything and anything; it was as though his sense of touch had been returned to him in a single gasp of air.
Whether he's wrestling with another, or seeking the simple pat on the head from his sun, he is constantly soaking up the touch bestowed upon him. He does not deny himself, having denied himself for over five hundred years. He soaks up the feeling of another's skin beneath his hands, anxious for the next step but patiently waiting for the others to be ready for that. He wants to know more. He wants to feel completely and totally loved, know how it feels to explore flesh in every way he can. He wants to try it all, but he knows the others aren't ready for him to grow up quite yet.
He's more than ready, but he's willing to wait.