Author:              Kiarene

Pairings:            Vegeta/Mirai

Disclaimer:        Don’t own DBZ

Published:         21st December 2003

Archive?            Please ask first

Warnings          Incest. Unbeta-ed.

 

 

Sons

 

5th Scrawling

 

Chibi Trunks’ POV

 

 

I can’t believe I did that.

 

My back to him, I allow my face to scrunch up in an expression of mixed horror and satisfaction, eyes wide and mouth stretched in a gleeful grimace. 

 

But I did. I *did*.

 

And dammit, it felt *good*.

 

Carefully sauntering away as if nothing of import had taken place, meticulously pacing my steps so I do *not* appear to be scurrying away, giving that extra tiny, nonchalant swing to my hips,  I make my way down the corridor.

 

By the time I close my bedroom door behind me, my nerves are stretched taut and frayed thin. Why? Was it because of my short confrontation with Mirai? Partially; I had been irritable ever since I felt him arrive yesterday, and though I know what I’ll find and though I *know* I’ll hate it, I still found myself outside my Dad’s room.

 

Listening. Wanting. Hating.

 

Prick. Coming here and stealing *my* father!

 

Bending down, I pull out a small cloth bag from under my bed and upturned the contents onto the bed. The small orange balls rolled out and even though I know they are all there, I counted them again. One, two, three, four, five, six …and…

 

My hand lingers over the last sphere that had rolled into a depression beside my pillow.

 

Se~ven.

 

I smile thinly and scoop the dragonballs back into the pouch. Glancing over at the clock, I make up my mind. Now. I can’t wait; I want to make that wish *now*. It is my birthday after all and though I had initially planned to do it after the party my mother planned, why not before? In fact, the more I think about it, the better the idea seems. Shock them all, especially Mirai.

 

And Dad.

 

His is the only reaction I am worried about. After all, the only reason I am doing this is for him. I think he would like it though. Clutching the pouch tightly, I fly out my window and then half-way across the world. I certainly did not want any curious sensei to find me before I make my wish.

 

~

 

Shenlong faded and the glowing balls turned back to stone, but I’m inured to the amazing sight I had seen so many times before. Instead, I am combing my fingers through my new hair in trembling excitement and looking around the meadow for a pool, a stream, a puddle even. Why didn’t I bring a mirror with me?

 

Remembering a pond nearby, I head there eagerly, feeling impressed with my new senses. My hearing, sight, smell, have all been enhanced. This is better, so much headier, than the drugs the guys on the baseball team were passing around. As I approach the small stream, my footsteps slow down. It’s probably too late now, but suddenly I feel nervous. My tail twitches. What if… How would I look?

 

Holding my breath anxiously, I peer into the still, aqeous surface.

 

My face remains exactly the same, but my hair. Oh. My ha~ir. Again, my right hand comes up and my fingers card through the upswept spikes slowly, lovingly. Gone was the soft, limp, baby-fine hair. My hair is now thicker, wiry but still smooth.

 

I love it.

 

My hair is now black, sweeping upwards in a midnight flame. Just like Dad’s, except that while his had a faint auburn tinge when the light strikes it just so, mine had a bit of a purplish hue. A remant of my Ningen heritage, I suppose. My *former* Ningen heritage.

 

I had made a wish to be a full-blooded Saiyajin.

 

Looking down, I see the other most obvious sign of my change. My Saiyajin tail. It is a rich copper brown, an almost metallic sheen to the glossy hairs, just like Dad’s. My tail flicks excitedly before me, and then I open my hands and settle it on my palms. For a while, I just leave it there, enjoying the feel of the warm, heavy weight in my hands. And then I start to stroke the fur in wonderment, a delighted smile on my face, shivering at the sensual tingles,

 

Is this what a full-blooded Saiyajin feels everytime his tail is touched? Is this what Dad feels?

 

I sink to my knees, purring and rumbling in an almost orgasmic manner. I probably look like a fool; I know I’m grinning like one, but I don’t care as I cuddle my new tail to my cheek. It’s so soft, so warm — I inhale deeply — so very fragrant. 

 

Finally, I release my tail and remembering what Dad does with his tail, I coil it around my waist. It felt odd and doesn’t seem to sit right, but I guess I’ll get used to it. Crouching down and leaning over the water’s surface, I examine myself more throughly. No, my facial features are not exactly the same.

 

My eyes are slightly more slanted, and if I peer closely, the dark pupils look more slitted than round. Somehow I’m not too surprised; the muscle arrangement for slitted pupils allow finer motor control and hence, better night vision. My cheekbones are a little sharper, my brows a little more angular, my lips a little thinner. Overall, I look more like Dad then ever. A tad more exotic. More dangerous. More beautiful, more feral.

 

I’m loving my new look more and more.

 

I can’t wait to see their faces.

 

~

 

As I touch down on the lawn, I could feel their stares on me and I smirk. I had landed slowly, hovering for just a second longer than necessary before I contact the ground, knowing I was posing shamelessly and loving it.

 

Mom approaches me first and I’m not surprised. She dives headalong into anything new with an almost dislainful regard for her safety; maybe it had something to do with the fact that she’s been surrounded by inhumanly strong sensei all her life. “Who are you? This is a private gathering! My husband is the prince of Saiyajins and he’ll have your ass if you don’t…”

 

“Woman!” A low growl shuts her up and I laugh. God, I love my mom. It just like her to have figured out my race but not my identify.

 

“Boy?” Dad sounds almost incredulous.

 

“Yes, Dad?” I turn to face him fully, smirk widening.

 

One of his brows quirks up, eyes widening in shock for a moment before he manages to collect himself. And then he throws me a mirroring smirk, his eyes raking over my body. “So this is the reason for the dragon’s appearance.”

 

I take a half-step closer to Dad. “What do you think, Dad?”

 

He looks at me, his expression melancholy and yet proud. He doesn’t answer me right away, but stares at me with an odd faraway look in his eyes. Reaching up, he touches my hair, murmuring softly. “Do you know that all males in my family have hair exactly like this? It’s a royal family trait; no other Saiyajin has it, and it always had bred true…”

 

Until me that is, I finish the though unhappily.

 

“Are you pleased, Dad?” I ask him so softly, knowing that the others cannot hear me.

 

He looks at me, a lopsided tug on his lips as he breathes. “You have no idea.”

 

“Then I’m glad,” I said, smiling widely. “I did it for you, Dad.”

 

Before he could say anything, a strong hand swings me around. “Bitching hell, Trunks! You look …fuck! Fucking fantastic!”

 

“Goten! Watch your mouth.” Gohan grins at me, a curious look on his face. “But he’s right, Trunks. You look great. Why did you do this?”

 

“Uncle Trunks?” Little Pan chirps as she tugs at my sleeve. Suddenly I’m surrounded and when I look around for Dad, he’s gone. Sighing, I resign myself to well-meaning, excited friends. Dad probably would have slipped off by now and I can always look for him after the party.

 

~

 

It is late evening and most of the guests have gone home; only the sensei remain. Gohan and Goten kept asking me about my transformation, and found my enhanced senses fascinating. I guess Kakarrot never told Gohan and Goten, well, he didn’t get a chance to know his father.

 

Dad steps out from the kitchen, Mirai a step behind him. Mom waves him over, scolding him fondly. “Where have you been? It’s your son’s birthday, for heaven’s sake!”

 

Instead of getting irritated as he often did, Dad turns to Mom with a serious expression. “Woman, I’ve something to say.”

 

Surprised, Mom keeps quiet. Dad is still facing Mom, but his eyes sweep the rest of the group, indicating that whatever he has to say is meant for all. Suddenly, I get a feeling of unease.

 

“Woman… Bulma. You’ve given me more than you should, and I should have been more than I am. I really wish you and *him* all the best,” — Dad smirks at Yamcha — “I’ll deny this if ever asked, but he is strong. For a Ningen.”

 

Yamcha is torn between looking praised and insulted.

 

“Why, Vegeta...” Mom looks stunned and I know I am. Then Dad does something I never thought I’d see him do in public: he leans over and kisses Mom on the cheek, and then whispers something in her ear. Mom looks even more stunned but she recovers quickly and hugs him, whispering something as well.

 

Embarassed, Dad pulls back and fixes Yamcha with a glare. “Take care of her.” Yamcha nods dumbly.

 

“Dad, you sound like…” I hurry across the room, really anxious now.

 

“Boy.” He smiles at me and I panic. The last time I saw him smile like that… “No, not a cub anymore, but full-grown. By Saiyajin customs, you have come of age today. I’m proud of you, son.”

 

The last time I saw him smile like that, was just before he went to confront Buu. When he told me that he was proud of me, and then knocked me out.

 

“Dad, what are you saying?”

 

“I’ll be leaving tommorrow, with Mirai.” Dad shrugs lightly, as if he was saying that he was going for a short training trip.

 

“Where? How long?” I ask numbly.

 

“Back to space. Years probably.” Dad gives me what he thinks is a reassuring smile. “But I’ll be back, Trunks.”

 

No… *No!*

 

~

 

When Dad heads back to his room, I hurry after him. “Dad, wait!”

 

“Trunks?” He pauses in his doorway and looks at me questioningly.

 

“Dad… Can I come in?”

 

Of course I can; I’ve never asked permission to enter his room before. Dad merely raises a brow and I close the door after me. At least Mirai isn’t in the room.

 

I take a deep breath, unsure of where to start. Hm. Draw attention to my new appearance first. “How do I really look? You didn’t get to say much just now.”

 

“Good. You look good.” Dad approaches me with a pleased, curious expression, his hand coming up to run through my hair. I almost purr at that touch and lean into his hand slightly. “You exhibit elite breeding; it shows in your hair and tail. Unlike the lower classes, the elites have certain characteristics such as hair styles that will always breed true. Nu’ir Hir or Black Flame; it is a royal trait.”

 

“So your father…”

 

“Had the same hair, as did his sire and his sire before him.” Dad’s gaze drops to my face. “And you look like him — my father — more than ever. You have always looked like me, him, but now, your eyes, brows.. You look fully Saiyajin.”

 

Pride flashes briefly in his expression before he looks away, embarassed. His attention drops to the tail around my waist and I unwind it, letting it drape trustingly over his open hands. As he checks it over, feeling the bones and stroking the fur, his tail comes up to hover in the air as well. “Strong, defined bones and good musculature. Glossy fur and clear.”

 

“Clear?” I couldn’t resist and take hold of his tail gently.

 

“Not blotchy. A consistent colour throughout,” he clarifies. His absent-minded stroking of my tail is turning me on badly and I finally give up, rubbing up against him with a loud moan. Dad drops my tail with a flush.

 

“Don’t stop.” Emboldened, I stroke his tail as if to show him just what I mean. A loud purr resonates from my chest and I give him what I think is my most sultry look.

 

Startled, Dad freezes. A barely perceptible shiver runs through his body but before I could exult, he pulls his tail out of my hands. “Trunks…” — a shaky breath and a quick step back — “Perhaps there are some aspects about Saiyajin etiquette that you are unaware of, but tails are private. It is a source of pride and identification, but we don’t casually go around touching others’ tails.”

 

“Why not?” I ask innocently. “You were holding my tail.”

 

“I’ll admit it is my fault for being careless,” Dad mutters stiffly, embarassed at his error. “And I’m sure you know why.”

 

Looking at his now-folded arms and irritated stance, I know when to back off. I decide to change the topic. “Why are you leaving?”

 

“Because you don’t need me now…”

 

“But I do!”

 

“You’re seventeen now,” Dad says. “On Vegetasei, you would have moved out today.”

 

“But…” My mind whirls and before I know what I’m doing, I step forward and grab his shoulders. “But I *need* you.”

 

And then I kiss him.

 

It wasn’t at all how I had imagined my first kiss to be. His lips were warm and parted in surprise, but unresponsive. Hands push me back, gently but firmly. “Trunks, you don’t know what you’re doing and…”

 

Instead of moving away, I step closer until our bodies are almost touching. My hands slide down to his lower back brazenly and my new tail waves wildly behind me, musking the air. “I do know! I’ve known since… forever! I love you, Dad!”

 

I blushed. That sounded so clumsy!

 

“Trunks…” Dad is trying to push me away without hurting me, I can tell. He could easily overpower me, but he doesn’t and my heart leaps at that. 

 

“And don’t give me that bit about my being your son,” I continue in a low, persuasive voice. “I know about you and Mirai.”

 

Shocked, his hands still on my arms, his voice careful. “Then.. you should also know that I’m taken.”

 

“No! I refuse to believe that! I’m just like him, Dad, and.. and better. I’m a full-blooded Saiyajin, I can give you what he can’t,” I press him back until his back hits the wall. The air is thick with the musk of my scent and I’m purring, growling like an animal as I rub wantonly against him. He makes a strangled sound and I take it as encouragement.

 

“I made the wish — just for you. I’m as proud of my Saiyajin heritage as you are, and you deserve a full Saiyajin, not a half-blood.”

 

“Trunks, stop it. Mirai…”

 

I hiss fiercely, thoughts I never would have voiced spilling out. “That’s why you had to turn to Mirai, right? Don’t get me wrong, I love Mom too, but she’s a Ningen. She can’t give you what you want so you had to turn to a half-blood. But I’m better than him.” Grinding against him, I could feel his stirring arousal.

 

Suddenly, between one indrawn breath and the exhale, I find myself pinned to the wall. I’ve never seen Dad so angry with me before and it frightens me. His voice is soft, his tone furious. “Do not ever, *ever* call Mirai a half-blood again. Do not speak of things you know nothing of. Your mother is a wonderful woman, and my not being with her is of no fault of hers.”

 

“I know you want me too; I can feel it. Smell it.” Recklessly, I push against him, my hips rocking against his. And it’s true. I know it.

 

“It is a physical reaction, nothing more.” Dad scowls. “Stop this nonsense, you foolish boy.”

 

“I’m not a boy anymore, you said so yourself!”

 

“Yes you are, if you insist on behaving like this!” Dad steps away, his face cold and disgusted. “Listen to me Trunks. I do love you, but only as a son. There cannot be anything more.”

 

“But Mirai…”

 

“I’ve never saw him as a son, nor has he ever saw me as his father. When I first met him many years ago, he was already older than you now.” His visage softens slightly when he realizes how anguished I am. “I’m sorry Trunks, but even if I were not bonded to another, I couldn’t …be what you want. I just can’t see you that way, do you understand?”

 

“But I look just like him! I am him!”

 

“Not to me.” Dad shakes his head stiffly. He turns away from me, in more ways than one, and an aching tightness grows in my chest. “I think you had better leave now.”

 

Numbly, I obey.

 

~*~

 

Onto 6th scrawling

 

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