“Oh, Mirai…” Trunks breathed, crouched over his dresser, snorting up a line of snow white cocaine. He clacked the razor against the tiny mirror, straightening out another before inhaling it through a tightly rolled bill. “you know, you really could work on that knocking thing. One could be doing any number of things and have you waltz in.”
“Like poisoning themselves?” Mirai scolded, crossing his arms and examining the younger version.
“Yeah,” Trunks shrugged, straightening up. “Or…. I don’t know, annoying themselves. What do you want Mirai? Or have you come here to holy roll my way into another migraine?”
“Actually, I came here to talk about Goten,” Mirai answered, watching very closely for any reaction.
Trunks’ face had fallen from any emotion at all, the slyness, the irritation gone and the eyes blank. He slowly walked over to a mahogany desk, opening a drawer to reveal a bottle of aged scotch, pouring himself a glass.
“Ah… so Vegeta took it upon himself to inform you about that,” he shrugged, shaking his head. “And why am I no where near surprised?”
“Vegeta told me about it, true,” Mirai nodded, readying himself to drop the bomb. “but I got the details from someone else. Someone… closer to the situation you could say.”
“And prey tell gorgeous,” Trunks grinned, walking towards the older figure. “Who might the mystery nark be?”
“Goten.” Mirai said firmly. “I talked to Goten.”
Every emotion once again left Trunks’ face and it occurred to Mirai suddenly that perhaps this was the younger version’s defense mechanism. When he was feeling the most strongly, his face fell void of all emotion, leaving his expression indecipherable. Interesting.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Trunks snapped viciously, betraying his anger in but a few short words. Mirai had to step back, overwhelmed by the animosity that positively melted off of Trunks.
“And why not?” He asked calmly, crossing his arms once more.
“Because it’s none of your fucking business, that’s why!” Trunks hurled his glass against the wall, the pieces scattering all over his floor. “Because it doesn’t concern you, or my mother, or my father, or anyone else OK?”
Trunks sat down at the edge of his bed, burying his hands in his hair. Mirai could only stare at the other man’s back, seeing the muscles flex under a handsome fitting blue shirt. In all the intensity of the situation, it actually dawned on Mirai what impediments had been crushed within the span of a few short seconds, his original conclusion dashed to pieces. He had figured, (as everyone else did) that there truly was nothing more to Trunks but a nympho-lifestyle and a selfish regard for only himself. Now he gazed down in wonderment at how truly off he must have been.
Against his better judgment and caution around Trunks, Mirai lifted his hand to the other’s back, rubbing in gentle circles to comfort the younger man. What had seemed a being incapable of sensation had now morphed right before his eyes into a human, or at least as close to one as Trunks could appear. So easily Mirai himself had been deceived by the flawless façade of indifference that now he could only think to himself in wonderment how wrong he had been. Trunks now seemed his age for the first time, a frustrated, confused youth only a few years younger then himself, frightened and angry.
“Trunks,” Mirai breathed cautiously. “I know you don’t want to talk about this. I know this is probably uncomfortable for you and I understand that. But I need to know.”
Trunks glanced over at the older man, sniffing up stray grains of cocaine.
“I need to know why you did it,” Mirai continued. “I need to know why you… how you could.. sleep with both Gohan and Goku afterwards. Why you felt the need to do that to yourself and to Goten.”
“You want to know why,” Trunks whispered so quietly.
Mirai leaned forward, desperately trying to hear. Suddenly he was on his back, tossed backwards by Trunks who was now straddling him, eyes intense.
“You want to know why I did it?” the monstrous youth smirked, grinding his sudden erection against Mirai’s pelvis. “Or you want to know how it felt when I did?”
Mirai struggled to get up, pushing angrily against Trunks’ chest which only seemed to ignite the bastard more.
“Admit it Mirai,” Trunks breathed, pushing his forehead down against the other’s, rocking his body back and forth sexually. “You must be wondering how it felt, what it was like. Being inside that tight body of Goku’s, feeling his sweat pour into my face as I sucked him off something fierce.”
Mirai cursed himself, feeling Trunks’ forceful hand wrench its way inside his warm pants, yanking his penis loose from his boxers and slowly working him into a painful arousal.
“Or how about,” Trunks bit his lip. “how about when Gohan shot his load all over my face and I made him lick it off. You should have seen it Mirai, his beautiful dark eyes fluttering while he kneeled, worshiping my tremendous cock. You should be inside them both Mirai. Poets couldn’t describe the sensation.”
Mirai was breathing hard, no longer resisting the hands that worked him into a constant pre-cum, the milky fluid trickling down Trunks’ knuckles. The twenty-four year old was now working his body in-time with his wrists, eyes closed as he let his bottom lip slide over Mirai’s cheek.
“God, you should see them when they cum Mirai,” He breathed. “They both make the same face, lips curling when I swallow them down inside me. And I swear, you can taste a Saiyan for days afterwards.”
Trunks suddenly lowered his body, taking the tip of Mirai’s penis inside his mouth before the older one could protest. Mirai lifted off the bed, knuckles white as he fisted the blankets, lost in the sensation of Trunks’ hot, wet mouth wrapped around his erection. The more anxious Mirai got, the wetter the other’s mouth became, saliva and pre-cum lining the sides of his mouth as he dipped lower and lower. Mirai was nearly lifting his lower body off of the mattress, understanding now the true meaning of “no gag-reaction”.
Hearing the sound of a wrapper being opened, he cracked one eye, watching as Trunks lifted upwards and undressed himself, a condom package caught between his teeth. Mirai shook his head, clearing away the blinding pleasure and praying sanity and reason would return in time.
“Oh come on Mirai,” Trunks sighed, yanking down the twenty-seven year old’s pants, still fisting the hot erection. “you know you want this just as badly as I do. You burn for it.”
He moved upwards, still straddling the other as he began unbuttoning Mirai’s shirt, revealing the heaving, sweating torso of his older self.
“You want to know what it’s like, don’t you?” He smiled, sliding his fingers over the shapely pectorals of the other, tugging the shirt free from chiseled shoulders. “You want to know how it feels to be inside me. To be a part of me. Or to feel me just… slide right in.”
He moved over the other, placing his face flat against the side of Mirai’s. Their soft, bare chest moved against each other, hot skin plastered together.
“I can make you more complete then you’ve ever been and you’ll adore me for it. Mirai, you told me I could have you once I’d seen another side of the world. But let me show you mine first.”
It took every ounce of will power for Mirai to push the other away, wrenching a solid “no” from his lips before collapsing back against the moist bedspread. Trunks merely gazed at him, anger apparent on every line of his face.
“Maybe not now then,” The younger version spat out. “But eventually.”
With that he ducked down, taking Mirai’s cock between his lips once more and sucking furiously. Mirai could barely breathe, let alone resist; in a world of pleasure and guilt, feeling each flick and movement of Trunks’ tongue. The hot, tight cheeks wound painfully around every inch until Mirai pounded the sides of the bed, releasing a thick spurt of cum into Trunks’ mouth.
Mirai fell back against the covers, heart pounding painfully in his chest, saliva drying on his flaccid cock. Trunks just stared at him, swallowing down the creamy taste that was himself in nearly every sense. What an odd sensation he had to think to himself, curious to find out if every single aspect of Mirai in bed was a replica of his own preferences.
He stood finally, ignoring his own arousal and pulling his pants up. He watched for another moment as his older self just lay there breathing, eyes fluttering around behind shapely lids. The beautiful, immaculate creature that could slay Trunks’ infatuation by doing absolutely nothing. He couldn’t even recall a time when he’d been so aroused.
Shrugging it off, he rounded the bed, preparing to take a cold shower in the bathroom a few rooms down. He nearly jumped, feeling Mirai’s hand come around his wrist, piercing blue eyes staring up at him.
“Why haven’t you spoken to him in 4 years Trunks?” The beautiful mouth breathed. “Why did you let him go so easily?”
Trunks swallowed, feeling pressure rise to his head. His mouth set in a tight, firm line, eyes furious as he gazed down.
“Because he made me feel,” he said simply, walking to the door and standing in the frame. “He made me feel and I didn’t like it.”
……….
“Trunks.”
He inwardly cringed at her shrill voice, heightened it seemed by the festering death that rigged her ageing body. God how he despised talking to her.
“Yes mother dear,” He said in a sugar sweet voice which sickened even him. He turned to see her, standing there in the hall way, her body short and compact beneath the fluorescent lights.
“I don’t suppose you’ve been lurking around my lab lately, have you?” She asked in that motherly way, crossing her arms over her chest and regarding him as though she were his superior.
“And why would I ever do that?” He rolled his eyes.
She watched his facial features for a moment, perhaps fooling herself into believing she could ever read him if he didn’t consent to it. He was tempted to roll his eyes again.
“That’s odd then.” She said, glancing down as her expression turned into confusion. “One of my latest projects is missing.”
“And what one would that be?” he asked, not truly giving a damn but humoring the old fool regardless.
“Ohh…” she mulled on useless, apparently none-too-concerned. “I suppose it’s not that important. Probably would have never worked anyways. Just some old one that dissects memories and brain waves and yada yada.”
“Hm..” he merely shrugged, having heard less than half of that. “Maybe Mirai snuck in there. Or don’t you think the immaculate bone-able boy scout could be capable of such a thing?”
His mother’s expression caught him off guard, turning from surprise to almost horror in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t even remember a time when she’d seemed so blatantly unpredictable and his alarm put his entire body on edge.
“Why would you say something like that Trunks?” she whispered, just staring at him with her wide, prying eyes.
‘Oh,’ he had to chuckle to himself. ‘Should have left out the bone-able part.’
“Please mom,” He sighed, turning away from her. “Have you SEEN the man? Get over it.”
But in the back of his mind, and for whatever reason, he almost wondered if there wasn’t more to this little conversation then just the word “bone-able”. He walked down the hallway, leaving her behind as she watched his back with an unreadable expression.
………………
“So you’re here again,” He mulled out, perhaps too drunk for his own good as he leaned over a swirling glass of God-knows-whatever the bartender had cooked up for him. Mirai stood over him, facial features portraying the same disappointment that they always did and that never ceased to remind him of his mother’s. “What is it this time Mirai? Come to cure me of my evil ways? Release me from my evil deeds?”
He threw his glass across the room, shattering it nearby an interracial couple that didn’t seem too pleased with his outburst and promptly raised their fingers towards him.
“Well hallelujah!” He bawled out in a southern accent, catching Mirai off guard. “Praise the lord! I have FOUND the JESUS!”
Mirai just glared down at him in that infuriating superiority act.
“Now that you’ve shown me the error of my ways lord Mirai,” Trunks spat, “why don’t you go find me another drink.” Turning towards the bartender he added, “and something that preferably DOESN’T taste like cow piss!”
“I think you’ve had enough,” Mirai said, sitting down next to him and running a hand through his hair in a rare display of compassion.
“But don’t you get it Mirai?” Trunks grinned, barely able to lift his head from the table. “That’s just it. There is no such thing as enough.”
Mirai just stared at him, the gorgeous face that should have been a replica of his own as unreadable and foreign as a complete stranger. Eyes staring into Trunks’ own that should have been a mirror of himself yet remained as mysterious as an abused child’s. Unreadable, untouchable yet undeniably sad.
Perhaps it was his drunken state and it very well was, but Trunks had to let his mind wander for a moment, mulling over what it was that made them so different. What it was that made Mirai feel so strongly and what it was that made him so numb. And he was, he knew that much. It wasn’t a mystery or something he had any intention of denying. He didn’t feel the way these humans did or even his other Saiyan counterparts. He realized that and he embraced it. Until now.
Now he sat there like a complete drunken idiot, pondering over what it was behind those gorgeous blue eyes that made his own seem dull and lifeless; like looking into the eyes of something dead. What made Mirai’s so much more beautiful than his own?
And more importantly it seemed, what had Mirai seen in his lifetime that made them so different? They’d both seen battles, both been in battles. Both seen blood and death and hardship. Yet it stayed with Mirai. Maybe that was it. It stained Mirai with time and with inward bruises of what he’d gone through. Where Trunks could let it go and return to life as usual, pain seemed to create Mirai more than destroy. Almost like it was as much a part of him as his own flesh and blood. Yes, pain created Mirai. And maybe, just maybe, it rotted away at Trunks.
“You loved him, didn’t you Trunks?” Mirai asked, awakening him from his thoughts. “You loved Goten, didn’t you? You felt that strongly and it scared you.”
Trunks sat there, just swallowing the bile that always rose into his throat when talking about Goten.
“Is that it then?” Mirai whispered, holding the back of his head. “You fell in love and it horrified you?”
Swallowing the sick grunge in his throat, Trunks merely regarded Mirai, his fingers fastened together beneath the table.
“No.” He spat. “That’s not it.”
“But it has to be,” Mirai insisted. “Why else would you-..”
“Don’t you get it?!” Trunks slammed his fist down on the table top. “You brain dead pretty boy! There is no such THING as love. None. You got that? It’s the right amount of chemicals released into your brain to create a false, euphoric feeling of companionship. But that whole “love” thing they show you in the movies and that humans fool themselves into believing they feel…” He glared, clenching his teeth. “That’s nothing more than a fanciful legend, a pretty little myth that humans would die to believe in simply to confirm that there IS actually a reason to live. It’s a false idea created by false hopes. Pathetic if you ask me.”
Mirai had remained quiet the entire time, watching this outburst with an unreadable expression. Trunks finally gave up trying to decipher it and began pulling out a cigarette, perfectly content to drink himself into a comma.
“But what if I could show you that it exists?” Mirai whispered. “What if I could prove to you that there is such a thing as real love? What then?”
“Impossible,” Trunks merely scoffed, snatching up a lighter and tending to his cigarette.
“Three chances Trunks,” Mirai grinned, holding up three fingers. “You give me three chances and I’ll show you three examples of love. If at the end you don’t believe in it, then I’m yours. What do you say to that?”
Trunks looked at him, trying once more to understand this strange being that should have been exactly like himself. The idea was preposterous yet the prize to be won not exactly shabby. And so with a wicked grin and a nod of his head, Trunks agreed.
“I say I’ll drink to that.”