They stayed on the island longer than a week. Trunks actually called his real estate purchaser and bought the island. The time edged into two weeks. Trunks was back to his normal appearance, thanks to his saiyan genes and Pan's cooking. But as for his demeanor, it was still subdued. He would sit with Pan on the beach during the morning, eat with her, and go to bed with her, but otherwise avoided her and spoke sparingly. He didn't want to spar. Didn't want to go snorkeling or hiking or looking for seashells. He refused to watch the sunset.

"Is it something I said? Did?" Pan asked one night, right as they were climbing into bed.

"What?"

"Why you're in this slump. Did I cause it?"

"No." He rolled away from her.

"Don't you turn away from me. We are going to talk about this right now."

"What are we talking about?"

"Your meltdown that you can't seem to recover from." He groaned and rolled back over to face her. It was dark in the room; the moon was bright, reflecting off the water enough to create a glow in the room enough to see her features.

"It's nothing. I just got a little overworked and exhausted is all."

"Quit. Fucking. Lying," she snapped. She was tired of his general malaise. He was very silent. He was seething. All the unhappiness, loneliness, emptiness, resentment, love, hate, fear, loathing and a million other feeling bubbled up with that single command.

"You are a fucking bitch," he hissed. She was taken aback. And then, with a single decision, she did what she did best…pressed buttons.

"I might be a fucking bitch, but I'm not having some pathetic meltdown for the world to see on the evening news. I'm not fucking starving myself to death like a pussy who is too fucking stupid to talk about what's bothering him so instead lets it fester!"

"I would fucking talk about it, if someone had fucking stuck around instead of scurrying off in the wee hours like she does with all the other men she has taken advantage of!" He was sitting up in bed now.

"I knew it was something I had done!" she exclaimed in triumph, albeit, short-lived triumph. It wasn't really the correct time to be one-upping the angry prince.

"It's you! It's everything about you! It's your face, your hair, your scent, your body, your charm, your promiscuity, your kindness, your cruelty, your…your…everything!" He was now standing, yelling at her like he was purging his soul.

"What about you, Mr. High-and-Mighty? The sword cuts both ways if you want to talk about not sticking around to talk about something, you didn't come looking for me or call me, did you? I got a pathetic 'what's up?' text days later!" She was right, of course. They both had been in the wrong.

"I didn't want to fucking piss you off even more if you were angry!"

"What the hell does it matter to you if I am angry? I'm not your fucking girlfriend. I don't even know if we're still friends because you just ignore me!" She was up, shouting at him now. They were on opposite sides of the bed, in their pajamas, staring daggers at each other.

"I don't know how to be friends with you! I don't know if I should be fucking or fighting you!"

"It seems to be like you prefer to do both!" she said, stomping out of the room towards the porch outside. Trunks grabbed her by her upper arm, harder than he had intended.

"We're talking about this right now," he said through gritted teeth. She jerked her arm away and gave him a look of venom.

"Don't you ever, EVER lay your hands on me like that again, you bastard." She meant those words. She was mad at him now. Initially, her intent was to piss him off enough that he would spill his guts. But now this was happening.

"Every other man in the world has…why can't I?" As soon as he said it, he knew he shouldn't have. He knew it was an asshole thing to say, and he wanted to apologize but couldn't. She slapped him so hard that the force of the slap left him spitting blood.

"Go fuck yourself."

"Bitch," he growled. She pushed him, as hard as she could, making him stagger out onto the porch, into the bright moonlight. The moon was perfectly round, full and white. She shoved him again, off the porch, out onto the sand.

His anger was so great that the world was red; she had driven him to where he was. He had loved her…wanted her…but he couldn't have her. Maybe she was incapable of feeling and all this mothering she had been doing was a farce.

"Get up, Briefs. We're doing this. This is to pain of death. Whoever is the loser gives up the way we have been living. Nothing. No sex, no taunting, nothing. Just the pain of being incomplete will remain. Got it?" He didn't answer, he just charged her.

It was a dirty fight; the kind where there are no rules. They took to the air rather quickly, nothing but bursts of light and energy to anyone watching below. They were pretty evenly matched, even when Trunks went super Saiyan. Pan's energy seemed endless. She almost got him with a kamehameha wave, but he blocked it at the last imaginable second. They were high above the open ocean, waters churning below, often battered by barrages of blasts from the angry Saiyans above.

Pan did earn a decent point when she caught Trunks with a foot to the face, followed by a swift kick toward the earth while he was still stunned. He hit the water at amazing speed; it was like hitting the solid ground, sinking deeper into the depths. There was so much displaced water from his fall that giant waves sprang out, washing deep up on the neighboring islands, as if a full-on tsunami was imminent.

He pulled himself up before the water rushed back in to fill the gaping void he had caused. He shook the stars from his vision and wasted no time in locating Pan, who was summoning up enough energy to take him out with a giant blast. "Fuck," he breathed, flittering across the sky erratically to decrease the likelihood of him being barbequed by a blast that he wouldn't be able to block for the sheer size of the thing. He'd have to dodge it completely.

"HHAAAAAAAA!" Pan thrust the blast toward the other Saiyan, hoping that she hit him. Hoping that she had drawn blood. But the blast just missed him. His arm was caught in the edge, leaving the sleeve of his favorite worn-out T-shirt singed off and his arm in a worse state.

They met in the middle, trying desperately to land a punch. Trunks's violent blue eyes met her dark ones, hypnotizing them both for just a moment, before he sucker punched her, leaving her dazed enough for him to try to subdue her in midair.

That plan worked poorly. He had locked her legs against his own and twisted her arms behind her back. "Think this is going to work?" she panted, struggling against him with all of her might.

"Seems to be," he responded in her ear.

"Hmm." And she snapped her head back, bashing the back of her head against his forehead, splitting it open and earning her freedom. Blood was running down his face as they came at each other again. He split her lip, she split his. She blacked his eyes, he blacked hers. She kneed him in the groin, which he couldn't replicate because he fell to the ocean, unable to process anything but overarching pain like he had rarely felt. "So you can't pass on your how to be an asshole gene!" she shouted down at him in the water. For good measure, she rained ki blasts down on him, which did a decent job keeping him down. He managed to recover from her most recent damaging blow and caught her in an arm lock that she couldn't immediately break.

"I think the world will be a better place without you fucking around degrading its male inhabitants."

"Jealous to the end, sweetheart," she whispered, managing to get locks on his legs, which put them in a very complicated position. The more pressure Pan exerted, the closer she was to breaking bones in his legs. And he got closer to snapping her arm. "Have we reached an impasse, then?"

"I'm not letting up," he snapped. And Pan took the chance to get free and felt the searing pain of a broken ulna as she looped around him in a full circle. He was caught by surprise that she would take the broken arm. She was much weaker now.

But she had something else up her sleeve. He wasn't savvy to everything she did. With a mostly unusable arm, she needed extra strength. Breaking away from her captor completely, she powered up. And up. And even more. Her hair flickered a violent shock of gold. The dark eyes that had held Trunks captive so many times turned a blue like the ocean on a clear, sunny day. And there she was, super Saiyan. His mouth dropped open. She closed it for him. With her foot. He had absolutely no chance at succeeding now. She was at an entirely different level than anyone else, including his father. The only power that challenged hers was Goku. The aura around her was so great, that even up a mile above the ocean, the waters down below still erupted like geysers.

The broken arm was nothing. As soon as she was at her maximum, Trunks felt his entire body crumble beneath him. But Pan perfected the art of pain so well that she didn't break anything on him. She didn't damage any organ. She found the places that would render the victim incapable of fighting back without leaving a mark. Trunks was in a bad state. His forehead was still bloodied, lip was busted a couple of times. He had bite marks on his shoulder from her. His T-shirt was tattered.

Pan's appearance faired equally well…she was almost naked, arm swollen. Her neck was bruised from a chokehold, while her nose was bleeding but not broken. They were dirty and sweaty and tired. But they were still fighting for something.

"Want to surrender, Briefs?" she called from her side of the sky.

"No. Do you, Miss Son?"

"No." And the vicious fight continued for several hours. Until they were too tired to exert an overwhelming amount of energy and were close to having to give up. They ended up looking at each other from a five foot distance, anger still roiling below the surface after all the hours of fighting.

"This has to have a victor," she said. He spit out a clot of blood. He was nearly naked, T-shirt blasted to bit and boxers worse-for-wear. Pan was in the same shape. They floated, suspended over the earth in the moonlight, their bodies mangled, anger unsettled, and minds alive with the last wave of adrenaline. She rushed him and punched him fully in the gut, dropping him to the water like a stone. Then she lost consciousness as her hair turned black, and she fell.

They came to on the beach. How they ended up there and not drowned, neither could guess. They looked at each other, very tired and beaten to smithereens. Their problems were still not resolved but they were too worn out to continue fighting.

"This doesn't mean that I don't want to continue beating you until you have to beg for mercy," he said.

"Begging is your thing."

"Begging got us to where we are now, because you are a…" And the angry crush of lips fell onto his before he could continue. He matched her ferocity, running his hands through her hair and grabbing a handful to pull until she groaned like a practiced consort. She bit down on his lip and drew even more blood than she had with earlier punches; the blood smeared, she licked it off his face. Every part of her body hurt, but she wouldn't stop for all the tea in China. He moved her broken arm, making her cry out with pain, resulting in her elbowing him in the chest, knocking the breath from him. Her lips were all over his body, his hands were all over hers.

"You're still a fucking asshole bastard," she said, lips moving against his bruised and bleeding chest as he pinned her beneath him.

"You're still a damn lush," he said back, pulling her hair again, making her arch into his body, letting her feel how hard he was.

"You don't deserve me," she said, biting him hard enough to almost take a full chunk of flesh with her. He hissed through his teeth in pain.

"I'm inclined to agree. I haven't done anything to deserve your torture and bitchiness." They looked into each other's eyes for a long second.

"I loved you," she said. He looked shocked. How he could look shocked was beyond her.

"What?"

"I fell in love with you, you asshole. But it ended just like everything else does with men." He had no words. She had been his for the taking. And he thought back on it, and it made sense. She stopped her game and tried to hold back…like they were dating like normal people. Even before this battle, she had taken care of him, even though she didn't have to. She was the reason he had to take a vacation before he damn killed himself. How could he be so dense?

"I still love you," he replied softly. Her features changed. The hard look on her face eased into one of hope and skepticism. "But I never knew you would love me."

"You're an idiot." He leaned down and kissed her, roughly but without the previous anger. His body relaxed into hers and all he could feel was Pan, inside his brain, under his body and entwined in his heart. It wasn't enough to kiss her. He had no struggle getting off the tatters of pajama shorts; his boxers were gone. He had waited to do this for a long time. He plunged deep into her, not waiting for her to adjust to him. She was tight, walls of her cunt wrapping around him like a vice. He would have thought her a virgin if he didn't know better.

Kami, it was like he had just come home. He began to thrust, harder and harder, hard as he could after restraining himself for so many years with the delicate human women. And Pan was crying out his name beneath him, her good arm digging nails deep into his back, drawing lines of blood. It felt like their nerves were outside their bodies; the pleasure and pain were beyond understanding. Her legs were wrapped too tightly around his body, and he felt her orgasm, the muscles of her pussy tightening around him, threatening to make him come.

He let it pass, continuing on, this time pulling her on top of him, watching her pump her hips against him. She was still a tease, riding him to the point where his cock was almost completely out of her body, before slamming back down, taking him into her like she was snapping on a latex glove. He was the one groaning beneath her, eyes rolling back in his head. He had never known so much pleasure. Her breasts bounced freely, even more enticing from his current position. Slowly, she leaned down toward him, ending with a kiss. Her juices were slippery between their legs. He grabbed her hips and bucked against her, pulling them into a sitting position. He had a sudden idea, which might or might not work out well.

He rose off the ground, Pan wrapped around his body, enjoying the hard feel of Trunks's hands on her body and the intensity of his thrusts. She had come, harder than she ever had, without him even touching her clit. The time he went down on her was the most intense orgasm in her life. But nothing compared to this. And all she could formulate to say was his name. Nothing else processed through her mind. He was already doing what she wanted. No need to give directions. No need to encourage him on. Lifted off the ground, she found them high above the ocean, bathed in moonlight.

"Fuck me," he said, letting her slam into him, her hips crashing down, and, had they been standing on the ground, he would have been weak in the knees. He grunted, his muscles tight. Her breathing was ragged, breasts heaving against him, making him harder. Her walls contacted again, making her lose her rhythm. Trunks tightened the hold he had on her ass and regulated the tempo of her sliding on and off his dick. Her screams almost overexcited him, and, in an effort to clear his mind, he ceased the use of ki, making a freefall to the earth. They hit pretty hard, leaving a crater in the sand, but despite the thrall of the drop, Trunks was too close to coming. He pulled Pan up, and, walked up the beach to a palm tree. Pressing her back against the rough trunk, he fucked her, his hips ramming his dick into her pussy as hard as he could, letting the waves of feeling wash over him. He could feel it, so close, his balls drawing up…so close…and she cried out, unexpectedly, squeezing his dick with all the strength in her muscles, the inside of her cunt becoming even slicker with her own come. Kami, he couldn't take another second. He buried himself deep inside of her, coming and coming, his hands squeezing her hips until they left hand-shaped bruises. He couldn't remember crying out, but the gut-wrenching moan he let out as he finished eased any remaining tension from his sweat-drenched, exhausted body. Pan caught his eyes, holding the gaze as they both panted. He was too tired to speak, and she had nothing to say. He let his head come to rest against her rising and falling chest. His dick softened and he eased out of the warmth of her body. Her good arm was wrapped around his neck, twisting his hair around her fingers carelessly. He licked her hard nipple, taking a second to bite it, getting a moaned response and a short pull of his hair. Chuckling, he raised his head to look at her. Her face was easy, lips swollen and eyes black. Blood had dried against her cheeks and chin. But she was unbelievably beautiful to him. He kissed her, softly.

She slid down his body, feet finding the sandy ground beneath her. As soon as she became upright, rivulets of come oozed down her legs. "You're a mess maker," she murmured.

"We should go shower," he answered. Pan looked around, but didn't see the lights of the bungalow. "Other side of the island," he said. He picked her up, minding her arm, and flew the short distance to the porch where the whole ordeal had started. There was a bag sitting on the middle of the bed when they got inside. Senzu beans. He gave three to Pan, hoping the more she consumed, the faster the arm would heal. He popped one in his mouth and went into the bathroom, turning on the shower. She followed him in, trying her arm out. Better.

"I can't believe you chose to break it," he said.

"You weren't going to break your legs. I wasn't going to tie. If I hadn't broken my arm, though, I want you to know I would have beaten your ass. And we wouldn't be standing where we are now."

"I know. I'm glad you decided to snap your arm. Just don't make it common practice." They slipped under the streams of hot water. Heavenly.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did. But go ahead." She frowned at him.

"When we were drunk, was it this good? Was it excellent sex or mediocre?" He raised an eyebrow. Kami, between the two of them, their ability to fuck up opportunities to be together was first rate.

"You passed out before I even got the condom on, which you insisted I had to wear." She smiled. And laughed. And laughed harder. He just looked at her, half-crooked smile on her face.

"We took the roundabout way to get here." He leaned down to kiss her, the water slowly washing the dried blood away. His dick hardened between them and he felt her smile. "You're incorrigible, Mr. President."

"But you like it, Miss Son," he said, turning her toward the shower wall before sliding his hard dick into her from behind. "And by this time tomorrow, sweetheart, you'll be begging me to stop because you're too raw and sore to go on," he whispered in his ear. Her response was a soft groan as he ground into her in a circular motion.

"We have a whole bag of senzu beans, sweetheart," she answered, pushing her ass back toward him. He groaned, running his hands up her sides and around to her breasts.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Epilogue

After another week's stay on the island, two very satisfied Saiyans returned to West City. Trunks went back to a stack of papers a mile high on his desk, which he proceeded to give to his secretary to shred. Pan went back to a prying Bulma Briefs, whose hopes were affirmed when her son came down to the lab at lunch, pulled Pan into his body and gave her a really, really passionate kiss. While they were kissing, Bulma couldn't help but to let out a squeal. They turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

"I'm going to have beautiful grandchildren to spoil to bits and pieces!"

"Bra's pregnant?" Trunks asked, smirking.

"I'm going to have little purple-headed Saiyans running around the house…" she was too deep in her daydream to even catch Trunks's cheeky question.

"Let's go practice," he whispered to Pan. The man had no shame.

A year later they were married. And, like Bulma had hoped, three years later, Pan gave birth to a purple-haired, dark-eyed granddaughter named Bunny, in honor of her great-grandmother. Two years after that, Trunks Vegeta Jr. was born (TV to alleviate confusion)…he was the spitting image of Goku with blue eyes…but Vegeta didn't seem to notice. It's funny how grandchildren have that effect on people.