destinytown | (no subject)

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[ saitama's secret stash...

...is something of a misnomer. there's nothing really secret about it, for one; the man doesn't have a lot of space to work with, and everything there is to see in his home is more or less in plain sight. he doesn't have much to hide, made abundantly clear every time genos performs a thorough bi-weekly sweep of their surroundings.

sensei, this flyer is from last month...
don't mind it, it doesn't expire for a while, you know?

the coupons tend to be long-expired, but genos won't say a thing. it's better to live and let live, or on those cases, not let his sensei know so he can pick up any wanted groceries in his stead. saitama doesn't need to know the real price. if he wants to keep thinking the value is worth something in the long run, so be it. frugality is one of his dozens of virtues, anyway.

what passes for the stash is typically nothing more than the latest magazines, advertisements, and other paraphernalia well-stocked by genos to ensure that sensei is continuing to thrive. originally it started out as something of a team effort (though saitama really hadn't seen the need at the time), growing into more and more of genos's side project over time. it makes sense, what with how busy sensei is these days. there's always a squabble here, a fight there, the here association pulling at their ears all the while...

lately saitama isn't even around, which leaves his young ward to his own devices, more often than not. there's no problem in it when genos has plenty of things to study, hero duties he can catch up on, plus the occasional tune-up at dr. kuseno's lab.

which leads him to wonder: what in the world is with this growing pile of discs in the living room?

video games... genos knows of them. his years spent as a cyborg of justice doesn't mean he's forgotten the past, forgotten some of the things which used to fill his spare time. but why are they filling sensei's? surely his hours could be better spent climbing the ranks of the association, just as he encouraged genos to do. not that sensei doesn't know best; he probably has a plan he hasn't told genos of yet, doing things in his own way. sensei, after all, is the strongest man the world has ever seen. what does ranking have to do with it?

at this point it's purely speculation. they could be here due to any number of things. there's no telling they belong to saitama in the first place. it's entirely possible they might have something to do with how much time he spends around the s-class's seventh best. as for why king would be influencing him to bring home piles and piles of games, it's beyond genos's reasoning. is it for training? it has to be for training.

now he's drawn a conclusion, able to proceed with no issues. a little tidying is fine, far from unwelcome, and sensei will appreciate it. if he asks, it's very possible they could play together too, like he does with the king.

if...oh.

wait.

a lot of these don't look like they're for two players at all...

and that is how the biomechanical boy has found himself sprawled out on the floor in the middle of the afternoon, transfixed by a now-empty jewel case with a scantily-clad girl on the packaging, her moans on the television screen ringing in his ears.

training. this is for training. sensei just needed a little...brushing up on how to talk to women. judging from how genos has fared in his game so far, he doesn't seem to have the same trouble. if anything, it's been all too easy to win over this virtual girl's affections and lure her into the bedroom. surely they don't act this way in the real world, too. genos's fanclub throwing themselves at them left and right is harrowing enough! ]

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[ there it is: a shade of sonic he's much more accustomed to.

coming to a halt in mid-motion, genos is slow to regard him. his hair is down; the blackness underneath his eyelids is darker than usual, blending in with the strokes of purple further down. small details he wouldn't normally pay attention to, but they're unavoidable here. ]

You are injured. Under the current conditions, there is no way you'll be able to manage on your own. [ surprisingly to the point, given the verbal assault he was about to heap on him. simple truths, simple statements. overloading him with information won't help matters. ]

[ typical genos. sonic had been expecting that when he opened his mouth to speak his mind, slower than usual when he releases his hold, using the hand to gingerly push a finger against the cyborg's lips to silence him. it's a less forceful manner than they're both accustomed to, well aware of this fact and finding no reason to do otherwise.

once he's sure that the kid won't be blabbing on and on about logical things that sonic could care less about, he repeats himself lowly. ] You don't need to be here.

[ lets his hand fall back a fraction, boldly finishing with: ] But I never said that I didn't want you here.

he can't have heard that correctly. it cuts straight to the heart—genos is technically lacking, but nevertheless—causes his fingers to twitch in shock, his world shrinking to focus on the single slender digit shushing him.

this differs from being tugged to restaurant after restaurant, or buying trashy magazines sonic plans on throwing away five minutes later when the amusement fades. he has no choice but to comply, tugging the bedding closer around the man, keeping the heat from escaping. although he says he's hot now, it won't last when he loses consciousness. ]

...as you wish. [ he won't meet sonic eye to eye, distracted with picking up some of the litter around him. genos has added quite a bit to the clutter from his own work: discarded wrappings that didn't work out the first time, sterilization tools buried so deep in the closet, he wouldn't put it past sonic not having touched them in years. ]

[ that works well enough for him. at least he got his point across successfully.

while genos gets to work, sonic will finally turn and look at the wall closest to him. there's no real reason behind it, besides the slight crick in his neck from not changing positions since he'd collapsed into bed what seems like hours prior.

he has to squint to see the numbers on the digital clock sitting across the room, finding it a futile effort when realizing that he doesn't even know when he stumbled back into his apartment.

this prompts him to ask, glancing over at his house guest from the corner of his eye. ] How long have you been here? [ maybe he can gauge the time based off of genos's arrival. ]

[ it's tempting to share the details of how the entire process has been thus far. then again, he can probably spare sonic the gory details—he may not have been altogether here for the worst of it, but genos doubts his ego needs any further battering than it's already had to endure. ]

Three hours. [ give or take. he's stumbling around to find the refuse bin, only managing to trip over the cat twice during the journey. ]

Huh. [ and that's all he'll have to say on the subject, shutting it down as quickly as he had started it.

three hours. even if they were close to something that resembled friends, it still made him a little uncomfortable, mentally swatting it away because he was not going to get into that whirlwind of thoughts when he's down and out. besides, it's easier to revert back to his usual self, though the playful bite his tone usually takes is all but gone. ]

Stop that, you don't have to clean. [ his apartment is usually a mess, anyway. he can get to it at a later time. ]

There is blood everywhere. I need to minimize the risks of infection—

[ in the middle of his sentence, genos trails off. look at that, this redundant ninja already getting some of the fight back into him; he doesn't know whether to be irritated, or thrilled he's made leaps and bounds from the near-corpse he was cradling hours ago.

it learns towards more of the form, earnestly couching back down. ] Please rest. You nearly didn't survive. I'll ensure whoever started this does not return to finish the job.

[ he knows how wrongly this will rub sonic. that's part of the point, getting him back to form. admittedly these are...uncharted waters for genos, who would otherwise be at a loss of how to console, encourage, offer the reassurance that everything's going to turn out okay. it isn't that he's doubting, no. buy why declare a truth so plain to everyone in the room? ]

[ normally it would definitely light a fire under him, prove just how much he can take care of himself, that he doesn't need or want genos's help.

yet he doesn't. he doesn't say anything for a while, actually, fully facing him now that he's so close to him again. like last time, sonic's committing things to memory, small details here and there about genos that he wasn't able to before. ]

Doubt it. [ changing directions with his gaze, the ninja stares up at the ceiling, expressionless. ] Probably.

[ because even he can't be certain who it was, if his eyes had deceived him, or a faint memory altering and warping his encounter. not that it's anyone's business, nor is it genos's battle to fight. hell, even he didn't particularly want to deal with it. sonic certainly didn't expect someone else to do the dirty work for him, let alone a hero of justice. ]

I'm fine. [ another unexpected change in topic, uninterested in spilling his guts for genos (in more ways than one, a crude joke he will chuckle about later). ] I've had worse.

[ he's fine. that's what he says, but did he really get a good look at what genos saw?

the spark nearly ignites him in turn, wishing to argue the fact so deeply his fists clench, about to spring up again, when...like before, he stops. while it isn't as easy to tell from a passing glance, the boy is tired, too. he's saved lives in his day, more than he can count, though not in such a manner as this. he's still not even sure if he's actually successfully pulled it off or not; sonic can move to and fro, can talk, can drink him in with those piercing eyes which leave him fidgeting.

but what if the wound reopens? what if genos is right, and he'll have to fend off an invader for round two? he's prepared for it, he thinks, to defend sonic to the death if he has to.

he doesn't have to. the man said it, straight from the horse's mouth. he didn't need to do any of this, doesn't need to be here now, despite...despite what he— ]

... [ they've stopped talking. once more genos lacks the finesse to say what he's thinking. he's just a nineteen year old kid borrowing a bionic body on an incredibly misguided mission. and he's here with the man who used to hurl death threats at his sensei several times a week, a wicked villain, the lowest of the low.

none of this makes a lick of sense. from a distance, there's meowing in the hallway, urging genos to return to the here and now. ] Please rest. [ if he can't make the clear statements he'd like to, he'll settle on old standbys. ]

[ a whistle of a sigh puffs from his nostrils. what a typical response.

that isn't bad by any stretch, not right now, when he's being a guard dog to someone other than saitama. if sonic weren't in such a strange mood, he'd sputter some disgust at the blond, cause a big dramatic scene to nobody other than the two of them and his feline friend. the worst thing genos could do was give him a taste of how he acts around his rival, wanting nothing to do with the bald man if he wasn't crashing in head-first into battle with him.

those aren't genos's intentions. he's just a good guy doing a good deed, no special treatment involved. as long as it stays that way, sonic can rest easy.

closing his eyes for good, he jerks his head away once more. unlike last time, he knows for certain what he wants to say, understands his own intentions perfectly. ]

... I'm cold. [ to further seal the deal, he'll bodily twist to the opposite edge of the futon, careful to not pull on the stitches while he makes his move. there's space there that seems much too empty, too large of a gap that he's used to on most nights.

i'm tired, sonic means to say. but you're tired, too. ]

[ cold? all the bedding genos could rustle up on short notice is already here, save for a mass of sonic's belongings he declined to rifle through, leaving him at least a little privacy.

during a struggle to yank the sleeveless jacket over his head—hood caught in his blond mop of synthetic hair—he realizes his error, the blatant invitation being shoved right under his nose. ] ...? [ this is escalating quickly, and if he takes too long coming to a decision, he knows the offer will be rescinded. worse than that, it'll reflect poorly on genos, after all the care he's striven to give so far.

it wasn't planned to be part of his repertoire of nursing sonic back to health. but who is he to refuse? with brows pinching together, the rest of his jacket slides off, completing the original objective of draping it over sonic, an extra layer to bury him under. what follows is him scooting across the floor, closer to the futon, the empty space blatantly presented to him.

the ninja's ears might deceive him if he thinks he hears another as you wish muttered by his new bedmate, gingerly crawling under a scrap of covers, wary of wanting to steal too much of it. keeping the cold at bay is the key here, if he's remembering his gathered information correctly. ]

[ good, he's glad he didn't have to literally drag him under the bedding, knock his head with a fist and ask how hollow his brain was. it's not the route he plans on taking tonight, a lot softer now that he's had some downtime, mulling over all of the things he could have said, the things he could have done.

what's in the past is in the past. sonic typically doesn't dwell on anything but his failures in combat, thankful that the only person to best him was nowhere to be found. out of sight, out of mind.

figuring that nothing else needs to be said, heavy lids give in to their natural urge to shut, shoulders slumping immediately as the weight of the day falls back onto a weathered body. it should be jarring, the sensation of another body next to him, yet he's strangely sedated by a sort of comfort he's not used to. genos's claim of protecting him plasters itself to the forefront of his sleep-deprived mind, attempting to stomach such a bold statement, a promise that he's never wanted—or needed, mostly—to hear.

don't be so weak, he scolds himself before succumbing to his exhaustion fully, ready and willing to sleep throughout the night.

... or so he had hoped.

a few hours is all he will get, rudely awakened by his body being consumed by what he assumes is fire. but no, it's just the rebellion marching on in, obnoxiously reminded that he's not out of harm's way just yet.

sonic's only able to mutter a slurred curse under his breath, the currant of his now-rising fever dragging him down, persistent in its wrath. fine, whatever. he's so debilitated and bone-weary that he can't find it in him to care. only a very short reminder that genos is next to him flickers across his consciousness, but it's too late, abruptly denied his unanticipated need to rouse the cyborg.

at least he can say that he's not cold any longer. ]

[ it's more rest than genos will get in the hours ahead of them. he spends several cycles where he'll shut down for fifteen minute intervals, always coming to for a quick confirmation of sonic's vitals. any change, no matter how minuscule, is monitored down to the tiniest detail. when another hour passes, he clambers out of their nest to change sonic's dressings, his sleep-babbling protests falling on deaf ears. to genos's immense relief nothing seems to have gone awry; the sparse stitches are holding in place, the blood has stopped oozing out, and none of it appears particularly worse for wear. he'll still clean the area, of course, mutter absent-minded nothings to gentle him when he flinches, unaware by now of what's even happening to him while lost in the throes of sleeping.

genos knows he's overstaying his welcome after the wrappings are sealed anew. in the dark, his eyes rove over sonic's briefly-bared body, finding the time to study him in a completely different way than he has been. something churns in where his stomach used to be, causing the heat trapped inside him to rise a fraction all on its own. out of everything he's gone through these days, this one takes the cake as being the most perplexing. the last time he felt this way, two bouncing bunny girls were having their way with a man he couldn't completely see on the screen, and even then, he could tell it arose more from the perverted curiosity of a deprived, fourteen year-old boy more than anything else. by comparison, facing sonic in this way doesn't follow the same logic at all.

or does it? it isn't his place to understand the finer points of physical attraction and beyond. for years he'd assumed that ship had sailed, relegating his lifestyle to combat and keeping the peace, a very cut and dry order he thought he was content with. somewhere along the way, it's changed, though it's practically impossible to pinpoint the where and why. dr. kuseno is a definite contributor as they further their partnership with each other, and even if he doesn't always seem like it, saitama is variable, too. being able to trust in his sensei and draw inspiration from him, hoping to help the both of them improve in the areas they need it to...like it or not, it's left a lasting mark on genos's psyche.

then again, it still doesn't explain why speed of sound sonic's turned him upside down. here and now isn't really the time and place to be analyzing it. they're friends, which is clearly why genos has gone out of his way to do more than he normally would for a more ordinary rescuee. someone who, despite the relatively short length of time they've spent around each other, he'd willingly risk his neck for; no one had ever earned that right pat saitama, but there's somebody new threatening to take over that throne. he meant what he said when proclaiming he'd watch for any potential intruders who could come their way. scars borne of a combative career aside, both he and sonic know the culprits able to truly catch him in flight are few and far between. to actually reach him, and so severely, had to be either a person of tremendous skill, or tremendously dumb luck indeed. whichever way it swings, genos is convinced the same mistakes aren't going to be made twice.

he doesn't question this newfound conviction, folding each layer of covers back over sonic and returning to his place at his side.

the constant rhythm of sleeping and waking persists throughout the night. after a time, it's sonic's increasing fever that concerns genos the most. with no drugs to administer him, he has to helplessly watch and continue playing a game he's beginning to run out of the patience for. cool cloths and washing him down didn't seem to be doing any significant amount of good, now bouncing back and forth between the two of extremes of too hot and too cold. he can only assume the second one is why sonic is keeping him here in his bed, having long shut down his cooling systems ages ago to radiate all the warmth for him he can possibly muster. at some point he lost his tattered denims, the implications of sharing space unclothed entirely eluding him. to him it just means there are less things to obstruct his care, the fleeting metal-to-skin contact whenever he shifts around in certain directions surely doing more than they could if a robe or shirt or pairs of pants were still there. this is purely clinical.

purely clinical, even when sonic is rousing, dazed and confused over the turn of events. genos can feel a shudder wrack beside him, sensing out the movement, his formerly-human insides tumbling over themselves at the thought. it's purely clinical when genos tries huddling closer to his form, misinterpreting it as a sign he's still suffering from a chill. by minimizing the distance separating them, he should be able to generate more heat, temperatures gradually rising between the shits. this will keep him comfortable, keep him at ease, if he's hypothesizing correctly. ]

[ some ease does come to him from genos's gentle management, the deliberately calculated care that wouldn't surprise sonic one bit if he were in a more healthy state of mind. he's already well aware of it, even from the beginning of their journey into this strange friendship that has developed between them. they were little things that served to remind sonic that he was a hero through and through, not a mindless slave to justice, just to boast and brag about his rank and talk down to those who were lower on the scale. at first it perturbed him, a restless and uneasy sensation that bothered sonic more than he'd ever admit. he couldn't understand, couldn't figure out why he'd come bother him on a near-to daily basis.

in the beginning he would argue that it was for fun. genos was a good means of entertainment, a great distraction from the boredom that settled in whenever he was stuck with no jobs to fill his time with. and then he'd seek him out right after a murder, blaming it on the rush he'd feel from hunting, needing to track down prey for an entirely different reason. yet the one thing he couldn't deny was this: he enjoyed his time with this kid. he, a villain, one of the most wanted men in every city, was getting attached to someone other than the cat he'd somehow got suckered into taking in.

he's just an appliance, sonic would tell himself. like a fridge or an oven. many times he'd lie to himself, much like how he did with everything in his life that made him feel something, anything that wasn't the delight that came from battle or blood splashed across his figure. was he scared? no. maybe. possibly. nothing good ever came from affection. he had no need for it. did it mean that he had to push it away whenever the opportunity arose, when he'd dare to say that he enjoyed the company of another human being?

genos isn't human, though. perhaps that's why it was less of a hassle for him to go on with this charade, convincing himself that it didn't matter because he didn't have anything in him that wasn't artificial, besides the human brain. there was no heart at his core, just a mass of energy that probably had to be recharged every once in a while, tinkered with to make sure the intensity of his light wouldn't flicker off into nothing. so it was fine. it was okay if he messed around with him, teased him, ate a meal or two with him. he wasn't as alive as sonic was, and that made everything less real.

their current predicament was real, though. very much so. proceeding from this point on would make or break whatever companionship they've cultivated, even when sonic, among the pulsing of heat that just won't cease its conniption, wanted to believe that he couldn't care less. a part of him didn't, but it wasn't for the typical reasons. no, this bionic phenomenon with truth and justice and enough heroics to put most heroes to shame, he wouldn't back down or toss someone aside so easily, not if they truly meant something to him. or maybe he's wrong in this assumption. whatever the case is, the constant movement genos makes calls him to attention, dragging him from the hellfire he's caught up in.

this feels good. it feels good, something he never in his wildest dreams would imagine to happen, not if it involved someone that could walk and talk and have so much emotion, enough to smother him, push him to move closer and closer until slick skin met metal.

strong yet slender arms slide against the large expanse of genos's chest, one unfortunately trapped between them, pressed against a well-sculpted shoulder, while the other reaches its destination around his neck. then he's more or less flush against the cyborg, neck craning at the perfect angle where he can breathe him in, nose lightly brushing against the other's. sonic's eyes are finally drawn open at half-mast, grateful for the amber glow that pools across both their faces, creating a sort of halo effect radiating between them. if he had the choice, sonic would want to bask in it for the remainder of the evening, finding a comfort in the soft lighting, the slight rise and fall of what would be genos's lungs if he still had the organs inside of him. there are no words exchanged once sonic decides to close the short distance, lips barely pressing against his bedmate's from more than just idle curiosity. the villain won't question it, won't fight, learning to just be and not flee off wildly, refusing to give in to a selfish act for the first time in his existence. ]

Edited 2015-12-29 05:31 (UTC)

[ this has suddenly gotten them way too close for comfort. when it begins, genos takes it in from a distance, allowing himself to be bent, moved, and slithered upon however sonic pleased. the ramifications of allowing him to do this sink in slowly, like a glacier melting into the sea: he's not an automaton, nor one of any number of kitchen gadgets sonic seems to enjoy accusing him of being. he thinks, he feels, as tangible or valid as anyone can ever aspire to be. it juat takes him a little longer to see the truth of things, small details that many people can follow their hearts to pick up on.

so it has to be when a pair of dry, chapped lips ghost over his that he finally acknowledges a piece of the puzzle locking into place. ah. this is what it is...

genos is a cyborg. it doesn't mean he can't remember bits and pieces of the long ago times, when catching the eye of certain classmates used to make his heart flutter wildly and the blood in his veins drain to areas he wouldn't have dared ever expect. he remembers the thrill of growing fascinated with someone new, the promises of something more which never quite made it when you're both barely teenagers, still adjusting to the real estate of your constantly growing and changing body.

you're interesting. he remembers saying it, and meaning it. even now it holds true, growing higher and higher by the second as sonic sloppily struggles to find purchase against him. genos's head tilts a fraction, giving the man in front of him some serious consideration. it isn't a remarkable kiss, not that genos has any to compare it to. in fact, were so inclined, it'd be all too easy to dismiss the action as a feverish curiosity and put sonic properly back into bed, smothering him to stay put until the morning light.

but since it piques his interest so keenly, genos accepts things as they are. he'll treat it as an...invitation, like the one that'd welcomed him into sonic's bed. he's cautious, so cautious, mimicking him to find the proper procedure. their noses nudge again, a crease forming over genos's brow as he concentrates. one simple press will do, won't it? just lean in, and—

—ah, there. solid contact. it's about how he thought it'd be. what he didn't account for was the color rushing to his cheeks, or the automatic clench of his hand to draw sonic tighter against him still. this isn't so clinical any longer. ]

[ sonic might have said that he doesn't like other people touching him, but it doesn't mean that he hates it when there are other motives involved. experience is certainly something he has plenty of, whether it be from when he was a younger, more curious individual, or now when he's older and more seasoned to matters of the body. what he's already anticipated was genos's lack of practice in these situations, but it's not like he's never been there before, either, reminded from the hesitation he's feeling against his lips.

that's fine, he doesn't really care all that much, but maybe there was something to be said about that curiosity while under the influence, from the nasty fever threatening to engulf him. he'd much rather be consumed by other things, like the smoothness of his companion's hands on his body, how the tighten and grip in response. the shiver that runs down his spine this time isn't from pain, birthed from something greater that reaches deep inside of him.

the hand that reached its target before begins to move once he's gotten the okay, first thumbing at the base of the blond's neck, trailing up until thin fingers can thread through messy hair. sonic just wants to feel him, to explore while he's still drugged and only half-aware of what he's doing, needing to confirm all those questions he had no answers to for several weeks (months? he can't be certain) now.

once he thinks genos has adjusted well enough, has moved on from the initial shock of intrusion, sonic begins his pursue anew, going slow with the kiss as to not overwhelm them both. locking them a fraction lighter, he muses that they're definitely more firm than he'd been expecting, from the idle thoughts he'd have after they were done with each other for the day. they aren't all that warm, not weathered down like his own, but they're still... nice, he thinks, nicer than the few seconds he had to anticipate anything at all.

unlike his friend here, the injured is at less of an advantage on where to display his limbs, movements stunted from the wound still healing at his side. it doesn't mean that he can't slip a calf up and around an imitation of a leg resting in front of him, locking his ankle around one of genos's to gently, lazily drag it closer, showing him that there's still room left to cross. ]

[ he has to be careful. this change in their positions doesn't absolve him from tending to sonic. if anything, it's heightened tenfold; genos is grappling with an overbearing array of sensations, ranging from the obvious to the mundane. he can't grab on to sonic too tightly, for one. a trip up his waistline with his fingertips reminds him of the taped gauze and cloth still there, as well as the faint discoloring surrounding it. he notes the subtle changes in his breathing, certain hitches he doubts have anything to do with the gentle push and pull of their mouths. genos is practically helpless here, blindly following the other's lead, lacking in the common sense and experience to who him if this is part of what he's supposed to be doing or not.

perhaps he's overthinking it. if he shuts down his subroutine scan, just for a moment, he can better appreciate sonic curling further and further into him, apparently intent on eliminating the smallest gaps that separate them. as it is in most matters with the two of them, he has no choice but to comply, his ankle hooking around the smooth, exposed leg threatening to draw him in. he thinks he's starting to get the picture after the full expanse of his limb wedges between sonic's, so preoccupied by this he has to pull away for a split second, the lines on his forehead drawing deeper and deeper into a fixture of focus and frustration.

the bulk of it is directed at himself, irritated at not entirely knowing at what's expected of him, or of what sonic's hoping to achieve. he tries to lose himself in the tactile feelings so foreign to him, the artificial skin of his lips abruptly itching to be reattached to sonic's own. his initiation is awkward, clumsy, and the self-consciousness climbs inside of his whirring chestplate. this is no good, he should have let sonic be.

five fingertips contradict him when they frame the side of sonic's face, furling into the silken strands of free-falling hair. his features are apologetic, tucking against sonic's cheek with a faint hum. maybe this can be enough to satisfy his scattered curiosities, lest genos bungles this any further for them both. ]

[ if only genos knew how fine sonic was with this. for as cutthroat, harsh, and downright cruel he could be, he has a surprisingly low urge to bait and chide the boy, not when it's with something intimate and foreign to him. maybe it's also due to a change of heart, however brief it may or may not turn out to be. part of him hopes the kindness is for genos and genos only, that way it'll be easier to accept the thawing of his cold heart, an exception made for just one cyborg and not the entire population of z-city.

instead of pursuing him further, sonic patiently waits for him to figure out what he wants, how he should proceed from here. as much as the ninja boasts over all of his long list of talents, being a mind-reader isn't one of them. if he wants him to stop, forget the thing never happened at all, then fine. but he'd have to be told outright to believe it. on the other end of the scale, a physical confirmation is all right, too, whether it be positive or negative or something in between.

whatever happens will happen. a little encouragement along the way never hurt anyone, however, but that hand in his hair deters him, has him melting outright. letting out a faint sound of approval for the gesture, sonic forgets to follow through with the peck he wanted to place somewhere close by. it's a bit of a weak point for him, and he doesn't think twice once he's nudging at the hand, sort of like a cat, hopeful for more attention. ]

[ to a point, genos knows what he wants. there are trivial desires, like seeing to sonic's safety, the overturning of the firey fever currently consuming him. and then there's the less trivial: wanting more of this, to feel sonic lay astride him in his entirety, mouth twitching with want yet unable to carry out his wishes. if he could hear more of sonic, that'd be good, too.

the boy is as frank here as he would be in any other situation. ] What should I do? I don't know... [ okay, less so than he'd ordinarily be in the light of day. he doesn't have the heart to own up to his shortcomings, already so frayed from literally patching sonic together he can't fathom any attempts to tear him back apart in a new and different way.

he can still muster up the courage to continue. there's no mistaking the soft encouragement found when he reached that curtain of hair. flexible, metallic digits marvel at the slide of it, the softness, the tickling it brings after accidentally landing on the tip of his nose. he has the audacity to laugh, a single, short sound of amusement under his breath. in no time it's replaced by his former trepidation, blindly seeking out sonic for another kiss, reaching to curve around the back of his skull and hold him there for a time. ]

[ any murmuring of words sonic had on the tip of his tongue are silenced, taken away with another soundless kiss. there's a weird feeling in his chest all the while, though it's not from the way they mesh together, or the firm grip keeping him there.

the tinier details were what threw him off, how he's bumbling through the intimacy, the scrunch of his nose when an inky lock brushes his face, that innocent, brief laughter he's never heard from him before—

dammit. sonic was just getting used to the feeling of falling without thought, and now he's back to struggling with his kneejerk reaction to depart from their closeness, to bolt and desert this entire affair. it takes so little to bring him back to the here and now that he's almost frightened by it, triggered by his hands moving on their own once again, tracing the fine detailing of genos's back, the bumps and curves of steel and the slight heat emanating from the crevices.

he doesn't want to leave this. he wants to see it through, however far it'll go.

breaking off the kiss a second time isn't as shocking, though done with more care than before. the limp limb still resting between them stretches to press a few digits against genos's lips, mirroring the gesture he did once before. ]

Here— [ both of his palms come to rest at his forearms, guiding the cyborg into changing positions, one where he's hovering over him and not in any real danger of damaging all the hard work and effort genos put into healing sonic's injury. quirks the edge of his lips upward, head tipping back to regard him. ] Much better.

[ and then he's tugging him back down, meeting him half-way to resume what they haven't yet finished exploring. ]

Yes. [ simple and to the point. he speaks lowly, as though they're still sandwiched together side by side, trying to sink into one another.

it's natural for genos to want to agree for the sake it. past that, he really is gaining a newfound appreciation for the change in angle. so much more of sonic is revealed to him, swallowing hard at the sight of his exposed throat, the expression on his face which doesn't quite match up to his everyday cockiness, but close enough to bid genos to pause as hot air rushes out of his paneling.

he looks so good like this. how was he so blind to it before? it seems like only yesterday he was such a nuisance, an annoying gnat of a man who just had to perch on sensei's table and never give him any peace. genos would have sooner incinerated him than end up in the compromising positions they're currently in. and yet he's the one on the verge of becoming engulfed by his own flames, still slow on the uptake of how they can specifically address that. for sonic the path is clear: basic biological functions are not lost on him, knowing what the conclusion here is going to be. getting there is the intimidating part.

sonic is here to remind him. sonic, who's pulling him down, who isn't shying away from this, who said he wants him here. it's more lip service than sensei's ever given him, although he's always been more of a guy to rely on actions instead of words. in that department, he has done his fair share of reluctantly welcome genos as a pupil, as a pal, as his peer.

but not like this. not with the same methods sonic's employing, somehow able to tell him exactly what he wants to hear, touch him in just such a way that's equal parts thrilling and relieving. he'll never get enough of this, he can already tell; the light suction being applied now to every kiss, restless shifting underneath his spread and poised legs making him wonder if, even here, sonic can't master the fine art of staying still (wasn't that part of being a true ninja, didn't he say?).

something is missing. it's all well and good, hovering over sonic, sharing breath and by this point, a smidgen of saliva. genos wants to come closer, but it worries him the weight would be more than sonic can bear, injured or no. he settles for hunkering down a fraction, leaning some of his heft onto his side, hoping that draping over sonic's chest will be ample compensation. he's still within easy reach, unattaching from their umpteenth kiss (genos lost count after fifty) for a brief break to draw breath. he meant to dive back in without delay, sidetracked instead by a whiff of something fragrant right behind his ears. is it shampoo? has he smelt shampoo this whole time, intrigued with how it's intermingled to create its own, unique aroma? for that matter, since when has the scent of a person played such an integral part of anything...there are so many things genos has yet to discover.

the tip of his nose buries into the curve of sonic's neck. one of his hands, resting for leverage by the man's head, curl around a sharp shoulderblade for a newfound anchor. genos inhales again, not wanting to be mistaken, and determines he's liking what he's found so far. ] You should touch me. [ it's a long-distance mutter, only just reaching the shell of sonic's ear, a thought he wasn't purposefully attempting to voice but hardly caring when it does, either.

he misses those hands on him, their acute memorization of every every crest and cable serving as his cyborg body. if phrased as a suggestion, genos figures the rate of success will be higher than if he were attempting to bark out demands like he otherwise often would. ]

[ similar to genos's current predicaments, sonic might as well be learning these steps all over again, too, if only so he can show him everything that he knows.

the narcissistic side of him gets a little thrill out of knowing that he's the one with more knowledge, more experience, is virtually a teacher of his own kind while they do the same song and dance he's witnesses plenty of times before. a greater part of him, however, feels marginally ashamed for such childishness, particularly so when he's faced with... whatever this is turning out to be. it's even more startling for sonic to consider, to be considerate, to have so much happen to him all at once; a suffocating encounter that's just as awe-inspiring as it is a troublesome ordeal.

how important this is doesn't dawn upon him until genos has shifted, making him tilt away when the man leans in close to a patch of skin, one that is arguably more sensitive, only to do nothing more than sniff at the area.

a full-body shiver runs down his spine, more than tickled by the huff of air dusting over his neck and ear. it just hits him so fast, faster than any punch or kick he'd made in the heat of battle, threatening to do more than go back to gripping at solid arms in an attempt to steady himself. what is this feeling? it's so alien to him, or so he thinks, a grin cracking at the edges of his lips when he finally understands: this is similar to the rush he gets when facing a worthy opponent.

that's such a rare thing. rare, but not impossible.

part of him wants to laugh outright at how ridiculous this all is. how could he go from almost being tender and introspective to his chest practically bursting at the seams from exhilaration? long gone are his worries of the pinch at his side, or wanting to push genos away, tell him to buzz off, he's not interested anymore. those are easily replaced with a joy and jubilation he's never felt before, not in bed, not when he's bared so open and willingly for another party, with no weapons at his disposal. sonic could almost cry from the relief, from so much crashing down on him all at once, relishing in it being almost too much for him to handle.

luckily this all passes swiftly, only getting a chance to concentrate on it for a short moment, lest he allow it to consume him, much like his rising temperature. though that seems to be under better control now, for some reason or another, and sonic won't let it go to waste.

touch him, he says? is that really all he wants? sonic grins again at this, but it's more subtle, less frenzied and sprinkled with affectionate mirth from finding the request all too endearing. out of nowhere he pushes the side of his face into genos's, an awkward bump-slash-nuzzle that's there and gone in a second. besides, he doesn't want to go into too much detail with that, not when he's sliding up those robotic arms, thumbing at points and slivers of metal, taking his time to appreciate the fine craftsmanship and care put into the other's body.

it really was amazing, a fascinating thing that sonic didn't put too much thought into when he first saw the kid. back then he was nothing more than another hero on their way to rescue a crumbling city. now he's something much bigger to him than that, bigger than the large stretch of his chest, the plating that he takes extra time in exploring despite the lack of smaller parts to examine. idle curiosity has him splaying one of his palms against it, right where his heart would be, almost expecting a miracle to happen and it suddenly coming to life. when nothing out of the ordinary happens, he resumes his search, tracing along a flimsy rod that replaced his collarbones, down further where it becomes much more intricate, less covered by long stretches of hard steel. sonic stops on his sternum, digits lightly drumming there in thought. ]

You can feel all of this? [ he knows the answer to that already, unable to bring himself to ask the real questions: how is that possible? you're just built from scraps, you shouldn't be able to feel anything at all— ]

[ under different circumstances, this might serve as a fine moment for one of genos's trademark explanations, a lengthy detailing of how his entire being operates in much more than the twenty words or less sensei always scolds him about.

some things, however, are easier to show than to tell. sounding out a wordless noise of confirmation, genos droops and relaxes, his attentions veering away from what sonic has to offer and more towards what's being done to him. it's true he comes up short as far as sensitivity is concerned, but it doesn't mean he's missing out on the certain brands of pleasure it can bring, basking in the electricity that sparks in sonic's wake. it thrums through his servomechanisms, holding him captive for a short moment to process the enormity of what's supposed to be a set of shallow, thoughtless, exploratory motions.

the human brain is wondrous. despite the absence of appropriate...equipment at his disposal, when sonic's questing hands reach his chest he thinks he might overheat on the spot. there's a temporary delay while his inner network catches up, propelling steam through the necessary vents in his form, after which all is well. in reality this passes in a handful of seconds; to genos this feels like an eternity, the core of him surging strongly in an imitation of the heart sonic's looking for.

yes he breathes, a soft affirmative to an obvious question. he mouths his way up the column of sonic's throat, dying for a distraction, something to get him back into form. logic and custom dictates he should be the one ravishing his victim here, not the other way around, being helplessly held in the other's thrall. titanium teeth bite down ever so gently, squeezing sonic by the shoulder, then down to a deceptively bicep. ]

I want to feel all of you. [ delivering this desire is easier, more earnest. his gaze zeroes in on sonic from below, the pinpoints of amber light narrow to a sliver. his grasp is restless now, abandoning his arm to skate over his side, his unbandaged hip, folding underneath his back to cradle him in a way that'd put a flesh and blood limb to pins and needles far too soon for it to be of any use. since it won't hinder genos, he's more than happy to do so, lending a hair more of his weight onto sonic whilst continuing to avoid the areas where he's hurting the most. it's unfortunate, needing to feel him head to toe in completion, but he can patiently accept the drawback. in the future they may have a chance to revisit this, though he won't be thinking too far ahead for now. if this is all they'll ever get, that's fine, too. ]

[ if sonic didn't know any better, he'd think that genos was just pulling his leg this entire time, pretending to be nothing but a blushing virgin, only to spring on sonic a few seconds too late. there would be a certain thrill in that, perhaps, but the surprise that would bring wouldn't have the same effect on him. what's needed now is exactly what sonic had anticipated: a solid push forward, a hint of a spark that he knew genos had in him. taking a gamble on the guy was the right thing for him to do.

throwing his head back further, the moan that escapes his lips is slightly strangled, a hissing delight from the singular prick of pain at his neck. his fingers twitch against the tight coils peeking out from his bedmate's shell, briefly musing that the panels have shifted slightly, relishing in the stream of steam that whirs against calloused pads. ]

Then feel. [ sonic's voice grows heavier at the end, wishing that this mechanical boy had skin for him to bite, flesh to tear and tease. being denied such a natural pleasure didn't deter him any, not when it's much more convenient to circle to the junction between his neck and shoulder, blunt nails nipping at the softer fibers there. sonic means to keep his mouth busy there, further fuel his ministrations with the reassurance that it's good, he doesn't mind, the subtle pain was something he wanted.

a dangerous thought flits through his mind, sliding his eyes shut before relaxing back, needing to direct his attention to every reaction his body's making in response to the cyborg's exploration. despite his skin already being flushed, there's a different kind of pink and red splotched across his cheeks, his ears, spilled across his neck and down a bit past. his limbs feel heavy, heavier than they do after a fight, amused over his legs barely keeping upright, still parted to accommodate them both. the arousal further down wasn't as apparent until genos hit a nerve with his teeth, and his body still continues to shake ever so slightly from it, singing his approval loud and clear without having to spell it out for him.

it's dizzying to now realize just how much this is affecting him. for how stubborn he was with not wanting to feel anything at all in the beginning, he certainly has turned over a new leaf quickly, overshadowing any unnecessary concerns that might have lingered. all he wants now is for genos to keep going, whispering such in one soft, shaky breath. ]

[ there ought to be laws against the weight in his voice—it's downright criminal. ]

As you wish. [ with such a warm welcome to spur genos on, why wait? his teeth close on sonic again, effortlessly deducing he's uncovered one of the man's own buttons to to press, delighting in the reaction, his full-bodied shuddering. he knows too that while it has nothing to do with a change in temperature, he can shield him with his own mass nevertheless, blind to the uncomfortable levels of heat he must be radiating by this point. as an afterthought he has to perform a quick scan, worried he'll sear through his flesh too severely, agitate his wounds, cause an abrupt end to what's otherwise turning out to be such a pleasant midnight interlude.

this is fine. regardless of how much his damage affects him, sonic must know his limits. he's undoubtedly no stranger to any amount of strain and stress he can have his body endure. even so, genos wouldn't want to add any first or second-degree burns to the tally. precaution insists he runs through a quick cooling sequence, which brings on more steam and more intricacies of his mechanical makeup for the ninja to marvel at.

now that that's resolved, he's uncertain of where to really begin. having had his fair share of up, he supposes moving down sounds like a better idea. besides, more scars litter sonic below than from above, and while the boy lacks the ambition to familiarize himself with every single one, he can press his lips to a few of the more prominent ones dotting above, down past the swell of a pectoral, beneath his ribcage. sometimes they part, tasting the skin, finding this as riveting as anything else sonic's shown him.

he can do more than kiss. still holding him fast, genos's other hand runs up one of sonic's legs, planting firmly onto a parted thigh. diving right into the center of him seems too trite, too expected, and although he casts an eye down below the waist, they slide shut shortly thereafter, choosing to lick a stripe up the center of his chest instead, moaning brokenly into the wings of his collarbone..

it's too good. there is so much to do, so much to investigate, he doesn't know what to do with it all. sonic still isn't close enough, squeezing his entrapped arm around him tighter and tighter. he huffs a frustrated breath into him, in need of more guidance than he'd care to admit. this is just scratching the surface of what they're both capable of. ]