Ooh baby love, my baby love
I need you, oh how I need you
But all you do is treat me bad
Break my heart and leave me sad

There was a distinct silence between the two demi-Saiyans as they walked down the street together. It sat there like an invisible wall, magnifying the inches between them into yards. It was the silence that hung heavily between two people when each had a thousand things to say and no idea how to say them. It was a perceptible thickening of the air, a dozen loaded questions and pregnant statements unspoken, a hundred pauses and glances and silent pleas just waiting to become real.

Videl had kissed Gohan goodnight. While Mirai waited on the lip of the porch, she'd smiled at Gohan, thanked him for a lovely time, ignored the fact that it was Mirai who'd gotten the tickets in the first place, and then stood on tiptoes to plant one on his cheek.

The violet-eyed girl's affection had had powerful repercussions on both part-Saiyans. Mirai had felt the now-familiar jolt of envy attacking his heart and intensifying the discomfort he already felt as a third wheel. Despite his frequent attempts to convince himself that Videl was no obstacle to true love, even his determination was susceptible to the deft manipulations his rival was capable of performing. Lurking in the shadows while the pretty human flirted with his Gohan, being nudged into feeling left out and unnecessary while she talked her way into her target's attentions - small wonder his confidence had slipped a notch or few.

Gohan, meanwhile, was almost suffocated. There were so many things he wanted to say, things he shouldn't say, things his heart wouldn't let him say, and things that seemed to make it easily from his heart to his throat but stalled at his mouth and left him gaping soundlessly. He wanted to tell Mirai that she'd kissed him and he'd had no part in it. He knew he shouldn't tell the other boy that he hadn't really minded it, if only to know that the lavender-haired prince still cared enough to get jealous. His heart, still pained by a seven-year-distant betrayal, refused to allow him to tell Mirai that Gohan would much rather be kissed by him instead. And for some reason he found himself incapable of verbalising exactly how deeply he'd been affected by falling into Mirai's arms earlier that day.

On the front step of the Capsule Corp building, the wall of silence between the couple thickened and became charged with the tense anticipation of a point in time where a million different things could happen and a million different consequences could arise.

"Thanks," said Gohan, "...for getting the tickets."

"It was nothing," and Mirai waved a hand dismissively, awkwardly. Another uncomfortable silence.

Tell me, what did I do wrong
To make you stay away so long

Gohan forced himself to find something to say. "...Well, I'm glad you took me with you." A shared wince and he immediately regretted his words. 'Like you didn't take me with you seven years ago' hung between them as clearly and cruelly as if he'd spoken it.

"Better you than Chibi Trunks and Goten," Mirai responded finally, just a hint of injury in his voice. Nervous, forced smiles.

The dark-eyed Saiyan looked at his feet. He felt a strong urge - no, not just an urge. Every fibre in his body, every facet of his being compelled him, entreated him, demanded that he reinstate the moment of contact they'd shared at the end of the sixth inning. He wanted it so badly...

Gohan felt a perceptible jar as he came abruptly back to his senses and found himself leaning in to kiss the other boy. Mirai's gaze had dropped off to one side, oblivious to the gesture, but the sudden movement as Gohan aborted the action brought the lapis lazuli eyes up to meet with his companion's charcoal regard. Schoolgirl-style blushes promptly matched crimson flushes on both faces and each looked away.

"Goodnight," whispered Gohan. His voice was too quiet, unintentionally suggestive. He cleared his throat. "I'll, uh, see you later." That was better - almost normal, in fact.

"Yeah," mumbled Mirai. "See you round ... Gohan." His voice dropped just slightly on the last word.

Both started to move in for a hug. Both stopped halfway. A frantic moment later, they shook hands, and both remembered all too clearly a time when a goodnight would have lasted so much longer, been so much more intimate.

Gohan had no way of knowing if Mirai was thinking the same things he was. He couldn't tell if the other boy was as frustrated with their mutual nervousness and lack of affection as he was. He couldn't tell if Mirai wanted to fix their relationship as much as he did. All Gohan knew right now were his own thoughts, and these were more than enough to occupy him.

Funny, how just a tiny action like a handshake could spark off such a chain reaction of emotions. In the moment their palms had clasped, Mirai's other hand gently resting on top of their joint fingers in an almost-caress, Gohan had felt something inside him click. It was a strange experience, to feel somehow completed just by contact with another person, but thankfully the impression wasn't as powerful as it had been before.

Gohan was hoping to give them as a couple a second chance - but on his terms. He didn't want to give in to temptation and lose control just yet. He couldn't bear the thought of being hurt again, no matter how much he wanted to be with Mirai. Yes, it had been seven years since his heart had been broken. But an experience as painful as that wasn't easy to just forget. Gohan hadn't even begun to move on when Mirai had showed up, as gorgeous and irresistible as he'd ever been, and it was taking all his willpower not to just throw himself into the other demi's arms. He wanted to take things slowly, to assure himself that he wasn't going to be hurt again, and he hoped that Mirai would bear with him and not throw their love away.

'Cause baby love, my baby love
Been missing ya, miss kissing ya
Instead of breaking up
Let's do some kissing and making up

But the demi-Saiyan from the future was the only person who could make Gohan literally fly without meaning to. He was the only one with the ability to make Gohan forget where, when, and even who he was, and indeed to wipe from the Son's memory the fact that most people generally kept at least one foot on the ground when walking.

Gohan had started veritably floating without meaning to, entirely because Mirai had remembered his favourite food. When he'd realised what he was doing, he'd literally fallen straight into Mirai's arms. And then...

The effects Mirai's touch had on Gohan were inexplicably powerful. Where his favourite Saiyan was concerned, Gohan had an excellent memory. He could recall every single time he and Mirai had touched one another, in perfect, heart-racing, tremble-inducing detail.

***

Flashback

"Sh, they'll hear us!"

"No they won't ... not if you stop giggling..." A poke, aimed at a rib but somehow connecting with a thigh.

"Aip! -How am I supposed to stop giggling if you keep - aip - poking me? You know I'm ticklish, Mirai!" Gohan squirmed, endeavouring futilely to keep his sensitive spots out of the older boy's range.

Mirai Trunks snickered. "Honestly," he grinned. "What kind of a warrior are you anyway, Gohan? No self-control at all..." He continued poking the boy sitting beside him on the couch until the eleven-year-old, almost choking on pent-up laughter, grabbed one of his teasing hands and bit it.

"...Now, what were you saying about making too much noise?"

Don't throw our love away
In my arms why don't you stay

Mirai wrung his injured hand, scowling as he examined the red marks where teeth had embedded. A dark look, threateningly navy blue like the sea preparing to hurl itself on a tiny, fragile raft, was dealt the grinning chibi. When Gohan failed to heed this warning, Mirai pounced.

"Gotcha!"

All Gohan's squirming was to no avail - before he could do anything he was trapped under a much larger Mirai. The lilac-haired teenager loomed over the smaller boy, kneeling between his legs and keeping his hands pinned by his sides.

Mirai leant down to whisper in Gohan's ear, his heated breath tickling his boyfriend's cheek. "Now who's laughing, chibi?" he said huskily, and nipped at Gohan's earlobe. A shiver ran through the small body beneath him, which relaxed muscle by muscle before thrumming with a different kind of tension. By then Mirai had explored every inch of the boy's ear with lips, tongue and teeth and had made his way, kiss by adoring kiss, to his neck.

The pulse point in the curve of Gohan's throat was a surprisingly disarming place. When Mirai's lips fluttered over it, soft and wickedly delicate, a sweet moan left the younger demi's mouth and he tilted his head back invitingly.

"More..." he whispered, rapture itself in his voice.

The teenager above him responded by pausing in his southward journey and lightly taking hold of the overly-sensitive skin between his teeth. He ran his tongue just once, just barely over the trapped skin, now beginning to dampen with sweat. This was the first time he and Gohan had done anything like this together, but instinct and love were guiding him and he was determined that his young partner enjoy it as much as he could.

As Mirai continued to worship that one place, Gohan shifted slightly beneath him. The effect he'd hoped for was gained when he felt his hips come into contact with those of the older demi-Saiyan. A perceptible lump could be felt raking against his own suddenly responsive loins as he ground their hips together.

Need ya, need ya
Baby love, ooh, baby love
Baby love, my baby love
Why must we separate, my love

Devastating, ruthless fire spawned in Gohan's nether regions with all the force and irrepressible energy of a Super Saiyan transformation and he groaned out loud, unprepared for such a reaction. His limbs began to shake, flames leaping from his guts to his fingertips as he arched his back, pushing and rubbing more insistently for more of the delicious feelings. Mirai answered with a thrust that made the smaller boy cry out in passion, a kind of restraint broken in that exclamation so that he felt his body infused with a feeling of love, of desire. He felt the teenager applying himself industriously to giving him a love bite as their hips rocked together, just out of time enough to add an element of enchanting unpredictability.

Suddenly Gohan found his hands twisting free of Mirai's grasp of their own accord. They trailed up the older boy's sides, drifting over the defined shoulders he liked to admire, and cupped the teenager's face, bringing him up from his place at Gohan's throat to his mouth instead.

The kiss was sweet and searing, blistering with the heat each generated in the other. An electric contact of lips, a moment to absorb the shock, then a wet gasp and Gohan was drowning in molten fire. A powerful battle, an apocalyptic duel where oxygen turned to flame and too close was far too distant. Want, need, yearning chased each other in circles as two mouths, two hearts merged in thrill and ecstasy and purest instinctive love.

When they broke for air Gohan didn't waste time. He sat up, pushing Mirai off him, spilling the older boy onto his back and attacking the zip of his jeans. He was aware that his hands were shaking, his movements frenzied, his mouth still open in a bid to reclaim the air lost in that shattering kiss.

He felt so young, so new - but a demon controlled his actions and he knew that demon to be the part of himself comfortable all these staggering new emotions. Mirai made him feel he was ready for all this, made him relinquish control of his body to his heart, which knew best, and his instincts, which knew what to do. Now more than ever did Gohan feel like a Saiyan, more animal than human, and while it scared him he relished it.

Mirai was protesting his actions - Gohan could hear the ragged, desperate edge to the teenager's voice as he tried to grab the younger boy's hand. But the time for objections was past. Gohan took a smug pleasure in the breathless cut-off of speech when he reached his goal.

All of my whole life through
I never loved no one but you
Why you do me like you do
I get this need

Two hands and a tongue attacking his straining length was too much for Mirai to handle and his head fell back, his spine arching to push himself further into that burning wet velvet. Satin skin and rough surrounded his manhood, contrast and friction and brilliant, brilliant heat. Spots danced before his eyes, white like the alabaster hands rough-delicate on his member and his sack, pink like the perfect little tongue flick and dragging all over the area most impossibly responsive to such treatment.

A delicious vacuum was formed around the head of Mirai's shaft. Gohan was drawing sounds from him that betrayed his arousal at an erratically increasing volume. Breath came in gasps. Heat almost unbearable now. He couldn't be going so soon...

He could. Turbulence and heat pounded inside him, suffocation and drowning, death and rebirth and burning, consuming flames. He was dissolving - no, he was imploding. Neither - he was riding a wave - now he was the wave - now he was nothing but a voice in a furious wind, unable to find the breath to sustain his own existence. Pleasure was everything. A groan wrenched itself free of Mirai's throat as he crashed, the clear-white spurting dampness a minuscule testament to the storm breaking within.

"Gohan!!"

Mirai clung to the name of his beloved like a lifeline as he crawled back to reality. Piece by piece he was put back together by the hands resting on his abdomen, by the nose bumping gently against his own, by he hips he felt between his thighs.

"Gohan..."

"So you remember my name? Good. Well, at the rate you were going everyone in this hemisphere knows my name by now."

A teasing, lilting voice, in itself enough to warm Mirai from the inside out, comfortable and content. Add to that the rich tone of desire and Mirai could have been listening to the auditory equivalent of a toaster.

"You're good," he managed to rasp, and was rewarded by a low rippling laugh. He landed a kiss in the vicinity of Gohan's mouth.

"Is it always that messy?" asked the younger boy. Mirai forced his eyes open, blinking rather blearily, and followed the direction of his boyfriend's gaze down to his crotch and the wet patch there. A glance back up showed a dribble of liquid about to dive from Gohan's chin. As he watched, with a vague, detached sort of curiosity, a single drop parted company with the rest of the line leaving the corner of the boy's mouth and plunged through open air. It landed on Mirai's collarbone with a small, almost apologetic sound.

Ooh, ooh, need to hold you
Once again, my love
Feel your warm embrace, my love
Don't throw our love away

A chuckle made Mirai's shoulders shake. He knew better - bloody oath, did he ever! - than to think of Gohan as innocent. But there were times when he was so damnably adorable, a look of youthful, yes, innocent puzzlement on that impossibly cute face, that there was nothing for it.

"You need to be snogged," declared Mirai, and for a long moment his attention was occupied by that task.

As his hands drifted lower, the lavender-haired teen began to speak in between kisses. "If you like..." - a nibble on Gohan's lower lip - "...I can show you..." - a peck on swollen, parted lips - "...how to keep a blowjob..." - tongue lathing twin pillows - "...nice and..." - a relishing open-mouth pash - "...clean."

By now one of Mirai's hands was resting flat against the curve of Gohan's lower back. The other was delving inside the boy's gi pants, exploring, experimenting, discov-ooh, that's the spot...

As Gohan yelped, Mirai pushed his hand further in, rubbing the younger boy's erection through the tighty whities in a way that made Gohan clap his hands over his mouth to stifle a groan. The motions of the teenager's hand began to take on the pattern of a massage and his subject started to sway in time with the movements, eyes shut, alternating between moaning and nearly biting his hand off.

When Mirai felt that Gohan was sufficiently relaxed, he sat the smaller boy back on the couch and shifted position to kneel on the floor in front of him. From there it was a simple matter to remove both pants and underwear, limp and helpless with delight as their owner now was. For a moment Mirai continued to pleasure Gohan with his hands, mutely adoring the look of bliss on his love's face, before lowering his head.

The younger demi-Saiyan's reaction to a mouth around his length was satisfying, to say the least. Gohan gave a start and almost bit right through his fist as he choked off a startled yelp. Then a cry, a squirm, and another muffled moan.

Mirai reached up to remove the hands in front of the other boy's mouth, feeling a thrill of power at the noises he could provoke his boyfriend into making. Gohan was young but he had a delightful voice. The teenager bobbed his head over the eager shaft and felt trembling hands tangle in his hair. Obedient to the smaller Saiyan's whispered entreaties, Mirai opened his throat to swallow the entire length, burying his noise in the silken ebony coils just beginning to sparsely cover pale skin.

Lifting his head to replenish his air supply, the teenager paused a moment, massaging the head of Gohan's shaft with his tongue and drinking in the fervent cries and desperate, rasped pleas made by his young lover. The sounds were compelling and urged him to continue.

As Gohan's hands fisted in Mirai's hair, begging him to keep going, the teenager deep-throated him again, his actions spurred onward by the beautiful voice calling his name and his own intense wish that his beloved's first climax be an occasion to remember. Everything he felt for the younger boy - passion, adoration, endearment, desire, and love more than all - he poured into his efforts.

When, all too soon, he felt Gohan's body writhe convulsively, he took a deep breath. The seed that shot down his throat almost gagged him, but he concentrated on swallowing every drop of the salty essence. He continued sucking, milking the now sated length, even as every muscle in the boy's body went limp. Glancing up at his love's face, Mirai felt a stirring in his heart at the beauty revealed in the angelic features. A relaxed, lethargic haze had fallen over the younger Saiyan, glazing his eyes and painting his cheeks with a delightful rose flush. Something inside Gohan seemed to shine as he met the teenager's eyes and stroked his face tenderly.

Together the two boys curled up on the couch, Gohan burrowing into the circle of Mirai's arms and sighing in contentment as his boyfriend cuddled him close. As he stroked the smaller Saiyan's hair, the wild raven spikes soft to the touch, Mirai reflected on how utterly perfect he felt right then, delighting in the afterglow with the one he loved. If he never had to move again, he couldn't be happier.

End of flashback

***

Please don't do me this way
Not happy like I used to be
Loneliness has got the best of me
My love, my baby love

The shower turned cold. Mirai opened his eyes and saw steam being banished by the chill stream. A shiver compounded of longing and desire rather than caused by temperature ran over him. He sighed.

As he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, Mirai paused to examine his reflection in the mirror. Same shoulder-length lavender hair, same enigmatic sapphire eyes, same regal profile and angular face. He supposed he'd lost a bit of condition in the time since the interlude he'd just recalled - he was slenderer now, toned rather than built, less muscular even than Gohan.

An exasperated sigh left him as he realised how insecure he was acting. "And I'm the one who always used to tease mum about her fussing over her appearance..."

He felt a pang of grief as his thoughts touched his mother and closed his eyes wearily. Some days it seemed like it had been a lifetime since she died, but the hollow ache was still there. Mirai now had an almost phobic hatred of the thought of losing people he cared for.

"Like Gohan..."

Another sigh, troubled and weary. Mirai really wished he knew where he stood with the other part-Saiyan. Their day together had been full of mixed messages - he knew Gohan was trying to protect his once-broken heart, but surely he hadn't just imagined the hints that the darker demi might still be open to his approaches?

One thing he was sure of: Mirai now disliked Videl intensely, if only because she was impeding his attempt to win back his love. Mirai was prepared to spend as much time and effort as it took to regain Gohan's trust, and he resented the female's presence. She was interfering, she was in the way, and she wanted Gohan for herself. Mirai dearly wished she would just fuck off.

It was a moment more, one spent entertaining various ways to remove Videl from the picture, before the lavender-haired Saiyan remembered that he should probably start drying. As he reached a wet arm to grab a towel, his eye fell on the small, leather-bound locket set carefully atop the messy disarray of his discarded clothes. Absently Mirai wrapped the fluffy towel around his waist, drying his hands thoroughly before reaching for it.

The locket fell open at a nudge, its two halves displaying the kanji for 'Ox' on the left and an etching of Fire Mountain on the right. The surfaces were slightly blurred and faded with age, despite the reverence with which Mirai handled it - the ink perhaps not so clear as it had once been, the leather hinting at cracks and wear.

It was an heirloom, handed down through a dozen generations on the male side of Gohan's family until the demi-Saiyan received it from his grandfather. And then, the day after the Cell Games, Gohan had given it to Mirai...

***

I need you, oh how I need you
Why you do me like you do
After I've been true to you
So deep in love with you

Flashback

Don't throw our love away

"You gotta keep this safe, okay Trunks?" Gohan's words were earnest as he held the package wrapped in oil paper firmly in his hand.

The lavender-haired teen nodded. "Promise. But, if you don't mind me asking, what is it?"

Carefully Gohan slid aside the coverings, revealing the small, obviously valuable locket. He laid it, paper and all, in Trunks' open hand and let the older demi Saiyan run his fingers over it reverently. At a gentle push, the clasp opened to display the markings that declared it property of the Ox King's family.

"This was my Grampa's," said Gohan solemnly. The gravity in the young boy's eyes and voice told Trunks that the object he held was of great importance to him. "It was an heirloom of his family - al the males passed it down for centuries. He gave it to me for my seventh birthday, just after Dad came back from space."

"It's lovely, Gohan," said Trunks, with appropriate reverence.

"It's yours now."

The teenager looked up, thoroughly startled. "Mine? But - but you can't - it belongs to your family - I can't take it!"

But Gohan was shutting the clasp, wrapping it back up in the oiled paper, closing Trunks' hand around the package. "I want you to have it. It means a lot to me, and so do you. Grampa would agree with me. I know you'll take good care of it."

Trunks opened his mouth, searching for something to say. Gohan gave him a warning glance - a sort of 'you argue and it'll go ill with you' kind of glance. He shut it. Dumbly he stared at the piece of history he held in his palm, overwhelmed by the gesture his love had just made. "This ... this is too much," he whispered.

End of flashback

***

Baby, baby, ooh 'til it's hurtin' me
'Til it's hurtin' me
Ooh, baby love
Don't throw our love away
Don't throw our love away

But he'd kept it, valuing it above all his other possessions. Now he held it close, breathing in its scent of leather and ink and the musk of history. Atop the smell of the locket itself there were others - Gohan's lingering signature, still miraculously potent, blending with a scent he recognised as his own. Mirai decided he liked the way the two mixed, combining and complementing each other to form an aroma alluring, dreamy and sinfully intoxicating.

As he ran his fingers over the locket again, he was conscious of a wish to preserve and protect what he saw as a private testament to the way he and Gohan were meant for each other. One small, leather-backed locket was a greater treasure to him than the entire Capsule Corp fortune.

"This belongs to both of us, Gohan," Mirai found himself whispering. "It's ours. I'll always keep it safe, I swear." A feather-light kiss landed on the ancient leather. "Just please ... please don't tell me I'm making a mistake. Tell me we still have a chance. Tell me we can fix this." A steadying swallow. "Tell me there's hope..."

=============================

Ok I know this locket thing not in the past..

But say something..