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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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[ seems satisfied enough with the reaction, snorting out in amusement. ]

You don't look busy. [ averts his eyes down and away, to where the fight is. ] Fine, I guess I'll just go down there and get rid of the distraction.

[ whether he's talking about saitama, the woman in black, or both of them is left up in the air. truthfully he was just hoping to share what he can do, what he's been bending himself backwards for. the extra work isn't any trouble for him, not really, but it's still annoying to have to do it and lose more time than necessary just wasting it on trivial things. ]

[ this trail's easier to follow, and genos can already tell he doesn't like where it's headed. ]

No. [ he can see it now: taking out the ice queen may be a benefit on sensei's behalf, but with sonic's reputation, he'd get out of it squeaky clean and leave all the blame on somebody else. saitama has a hard enough time as it is to gain recognition within the association, and this certainly wouldn't help in the slightest. not to mention, another confrontation between those two would just mean...

...no, no, that's stupid. why should genos care if sonic gets smeared on the sidewalk? it's what he deserves, allegedly has after every meeting with his sensei, though he's only known through hearsay hours after the fact. the stories, he's realized, don't compare to seeing him in real action. not that he's seen much. is that going to change anytime soon? ]

[ that's better. unfortunately, he doesn't like hearing that particular word, irritation clawing up the back of his neck at a startling rate. ]

No? [ drops down from his perch, gazing up at him with a sweet smile despite his tone when he says, emphasized: ] Then play with me.

[ sonic's more sharp this time when repeats himself, stepping right up into genos's space, a mockery of the time when they were in the kitchen. thinks back on it briefly, how if he really wanted, he could probably close the distance even more, have those hands grab him like they did before... so many other paths he could take, could possibly drag the other into so easily. denying it outright is more his style, pointedly ignoring the small shiver than runs down his spine from those not-so distant memories alone. none of that nonsense, now. ]

[ he still doesn't get it, but there's something in the honed edge of sonic's voice telling him he knows better than to play dumb, rubbing him the wrong way any more than he has.

besides, it's not like the man is speaking in tongues. off the top of genos's head, there are only two things he thinks he could be alluding to, and if it's not the first one—the one that makes the temperature of the oil inside of him surge—it has to be... ]

Not here. [ are they really negotiating this? ] This place is already trashed. [ genos has seen worse, knows sensei has seen it more badly depending on who's come to call, but he'd like to rest easy knowing he's still going to have a home to come to after all this is said and done. sleeping outside isn't an amazing prospect, not when you've put that life behind you. ]

[ a villain, in the true sense of the word, wouldn't wait, wouldn't stand there and listen to whatever genos has to say. it goes to show how much he's changed, albeit subtly, for sonic to not just slice at the guy's face and pull him into the chaos down below. should he be angry? furious for everything that's happened thus far to make him this way?

or maybe he can put that behind him, just as he plans on doing. who knew it would end up being this difficult. ]

Fine. [ it's quick, the way he rocks up smoothly, grazes his friend's cheek with his lips. spindly fingers dance across his chest as sonic move to his ear, whispering. ] Then follow me.

[ something childish, a little playful skirts across his face once he's pulled back to regard genos, taking flight not a second later at his usual pace, trusting that the cyborg can track him with little difficulty. ]

[ a real villain would have taken a swing at his neck from the word go. it leaves genos with a messy pile of mixed feelings; his place is here, looking after his sensei, hero association on speed dial in case there's any mishaps in the aftermath. racing after sonic is a diversion at best, willing to cooperate if it means he won't be poking around in squabbles he doesn't belong in.

and what's with that, winning his compliance so easily? is a quick run all he's after, wanting to bait and jeer at genos all the while? maybe he's rusty, maybe he's ready to sharpen his skills after his unexpected hiatus. without any further involvement on the demon cyborg's end, speculation is the only item at his disposal. is he eating right, is he training, is he working, did he miss genos too, to come all this way—

—no, no, no, this is no time to think about that! and it's no time to let the hot air gush forth from his ears when that misleadingly-sultry voice of sonic's does things to him. he's doing it on purpose, just like the past, wants to get a rise from his mechanical monstrosity of a friend, no more, no less.

he's going to get one if that continues. clenching his fists, genos spares a panicked glance to his stoic sensei, swallows loudly, and boosts off from the balcony. his target is well in sight, unwilling to lose sight of him without a struggle. since he's registered on multiple charts, it shouldn't be an issue. heat, movement, even the nearly-inaudible sounds of his light breathing as he speeds off; he's got it all. ]

[ too easy. it's all too easy. this isn't baffling at any angle, yet there's still a crease in sonic's brow as he moves gracefully away from the scene of the crime. what the hell is he doing? with any of this, because he's starting to do that thing again, that overthinking that buries every logical solution he's come up with into the ground. didn't he decide that he was done with all of this?

i am. determination sets in again, as does the bubbling of frustration gathering in his stomach. don't think, just move.

where to, though? sonic doesn't really have a place in mind, wanting to at least put some significant distance between them and the sad joke of a showdown they left behind. if this situation were any different—if it weren't for genos, that insufferable weirdo—sonic would have just tossed them into the ring as well, prove once again how fast he is, how powerful he can be. this will be the first time he's able to show the hero why he's been s-class long before that hunk of junk joined that ridiculous academy, that he isn't just some sad state of a human being who can so easily be taken down.

sonic already knows what he's up against. like he's mentioned before: he waits, he watches, he strikes when the moment is right. all of these things have happened in succession many times before, and it was the same with genos, too, when they were first becoming acquainted with one another. that side of the story is less action-packed, more out of character for sonic to do. the inevitable was bound to happen, anyway, one that he's quietly hoping will be quick and swift so he can get back to his regular life of crime.

the perfect place comes into view after flitting here and there, contented enough with the bare, obviously abandoned streets. the complexes and dust-covered stores are as dead to this world as are the people who once resided within them, knowing very well that genos's justice-filled hero complex would be more than happy to duke it out here rather than a crowded space. casualties aside, sonic wouldn't mind a bit of privacy, too, although it's another thing he's uncertain of.

landing light on his feet, the ninja sways in a circle, a fluid motion to regard his temporary sparring partner. ]

Is this better, Demon Cyborg?

Edited 2016-01-09 04:34 (UTC)

[ sonic's level of consideration is the baffling thing here. it may sound uncouth, but genos would've been happy just to get away from the commotion surrounding them. being lead to the ruined areas of z-city where no one in their right mind dares to tread is merely a bonus, a load off of his mind to not have to worry about any interferences or extra damage they may unwittingly cause. his record as a hero isn't necessarily the cleanest, and admittedly, he'd hate to have it continue to get dragged through the mud. he has to show sensei he's the best that he can be.

the questions he can't bring himself to ask still linger. what are they doing, why are they here, who does sonic think he is, when they could be squirreled away indoors safe and sound, throwing toys for speedy mcfaster to chase across the room and doze without a care? was it always going to be genos, or is the warm-up for the main event yet to pass?

some of the answers aren't meant for him to know. he supposes he should be happy the great speed of sound ninja's graced him with his presence at all, when he could have easily kept prolonging his absence. the weeks could turn to months, hell, for all genos knows he may have packed up and moved on to a different city altogether, having new hits to carry out and more warm bodies to cleave into than this place can offer. anything to get away from his dopey companion harboring a classic case of puppy love.

could that be why? in genos's eyes, it didn't seem like he was moving in too close, being too overbearing—every advancement on his part has always been made with some air of caution, judging sonic's reactions, figuring out what works, what doesn't, what he is and isn't allowed to do. if he's overstepped any boundaries, it's news to him.

maybe he's overthinking this. maybe it's just a new game he's tremendously excited to play. with trepidation in his gears, he sighs, works out a jammed joint in the bend of his right elbow. ]

Fine. [ he'll take it. ]

Fine.

[ parroting sarcastically back at genos is much more simple than spilling the other things he wants to say. losing sight of his objective isn't really what he's after, however, brushing aside any (begrudgingly) lingering ache he might have inside of him.

the rush of excitement that begins to course through him is only apparent in the way he breathes, his heart thrumming dangerously fast inside his chest. a part of him knows genos's senses are heightened, that he'll be able to catch onto things faster than a human, already prepared for a battle that's actually worth fighting... minus the squabbles he wants to get into with saitama, of course, but that can wait for a future time.

sonic didn't need an extra storage of memory to map out and keep notes on everything about the cyborg's physique—that ship's sailed the moment they were intimate together, learning the mechanics of his form by touch, a keen eye, open ears that are equally as sharp as his cat's; unlike him, there's a lot more there to take in, inner workings to figure out and study. flesh and bone can only go so far, but someone that's less man and more machine is harder to decipher, to figure out the reason why he ticks so smoothly.

the brief pause only serves to remind him how much he needs this. this fight, this battle that will finally put an end to the nagging and torture sonic's so unused to.

one more look is all he needs. a long sweep up and down genos's body, drinking the image in to bring him back to a steady state, reminding him that what needs to go away is right in front of him, ready to be taken down. it's now that he feels elated—almost breathless—breaking out into a harrowing smile before he's cracking the sound barrier. ]

[ so this is how it's going to be. any doubts of what this is are cleared from genos's mind, leaving him little more than a blank slate. he could spend all day continuing to guess at what's driving sonic to do this, conjure up thousands of theories as to why, but in the end it's meaningless. what's done is done, and if this is what sonic needs to get out of his system, then so be it.

it's been far too long since he's stared down a substantial threat. he hasn't put his new parts to the test past their initialization, secretly dying for the chance to get good use out of them. today, presumably, was going to be the day, locked and loaded for getting the blizzard witch off of sensei's back to show what he's made of. opportunity comes a-knocking in many different disguises, and while sonic is the last target he'd want to take advantage of, he isn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth when it counts.

fine. they can do this. the black blur plunging straight towards genos is nothing to bat an eye at, arms crossed and ready to bear the weight of his impact when he lands. it goes like this, suffering blow after blow from sonic, an immovable object against his unstoppable force where he stands. honestly, he was braced for more; is this really just for play? ]

...? [ he's growing bored, restless. sidestepping each swift strike is starting to sound more interesting than standing still does, darting to and fro as they transition into a new dance. metal hands keep to himself the entire time, reluctant to lash out at the shadow haunting him. to genos this is as lackadaisical as any sparring match with sensei is. finally, there's a glimmer of insight of what it feels like to be on the other end of the spectrum, like a cat toying with a mouse instead of just finishing it in one gulp.

in ways, he feels sorry for the guy. he's strong, he's fast as lightning, that's no question. why is he holding back? or what if he isn't? has genos ascended that high already? they've barely spent a few minutes at this. surely they're just scratching the surface, having yet to dig deeper. ]

[ he wasn't holding back, not really. so why isn't he doing anything more than hitting air, swinging at a blur of an image of his target, instead of crashing through metal like he'd envisioned?

was it because he hadn't healed long enough? was there damage there that neither of them were able to detect? no, that can't be it, he's pushed his body past the limits before, when there were more open wounds on his body than he could count. was he just not seeing right? did he miscalculate all the raw data and information he'd gathered beforehand? or was he just so damn distracted by something more, something he'd like nothing more than to rip to shreds, much like how he's feeling towards genos with every dodge he takes.

why wasn't he fighting back? sonic knows the teen isn't the type to sit on defense; that body wasn't strung for only a singular default mode, one that didn't promote the actual heat of battle. he knows this better than anyone (why does he think that?) and it only lights a fire in him anew, a vicious tornado of rage because he's holding back and not striking out—

wait. did he... think he couldn't take it? was he still back in the darkness of sonic's apartment, where he had to nurse him back to health, stitch up his side, offer a warmth so readily and willingly? is he seeing things through the afternoons where they'd sit next to each other quietly, the television humming some nonsense while they enjoyed each other's silent company?

a sharp pain twists somewhere deep within him, stuttering only slightly in his movements. the distinct feeling of inadequacy isn't foreign to him, but it's reserved for only one instance, only one time in his life, a weight he bares just as heavily as the sentimental, affectionate emotions crushing him from the inside-out.

any of those that have the audacity to stay are torn to shreds, cut down as easily as the thin fabric on his body that tears ever so slightly at a misstep, a casual mistake he'll dwell on later. if he was angry before, then he's only just a step closer to livid, bristling heavily at the edges as he continues to pursue him. ]

What the fuck is wrong with you? [ sonic didn't resort to it before, didn't think he'd have to, but all bets are off when he's this mad and hellbent to win, grappling at the hilt of his sword before swinging it dangerously close to the delicate wiring on the cyborg's neck. ] Fight me—!

[ he's not wrong, not entirely. by all accounts, sonic is the enemy: fearsome, ruthless, cold-blooded, an indiscriminate killer any hero worth their salt would be all too happy to put away. if it weren't for the hidden truths he's uncovered over time, the idiosyncrasies that've drawn him in, genos would count himself among them. those are his duties, his purpose in his life, to dispense justice wherever he sees fit and keep the peace accordingly. by all accounts, it should be satisfying for them to collide in combat, settling the score they should have ages ago when genos's afternoon experiments at home were inconveniently interrupted.

it isn't. it's anything but. it pains him to rip seams in sonic's skin-tight suit, a little unspoken goading for him to keep his guard up, stop acting so fast and sloppy. clearly he isn't getting the message when he's missing every swing, faltering in his follow-throughs, and the demon cyborg wildly wonders for a split second if his opponent's facing the same dilemma he is. can't be. there are many sides to sonic, and he's witnessed a bevy of them thus far, but softness hasn't really been one of them. not unless you've sprouted four legs and are covered in fur.

now it's getting bothersome. there's no fun in this, no reason to it in the slightest, from genos's point of view. he gives deep consideration to ending it outright while dodging another kick to his nonexistent ribs. one blast might push him to a healthy distance, or one slam into the rubble would shut him for at least a good few minutes. so many options, so little time...

ah, his mind's made for him once the glint of meticulously cared-for steel hits the air. he needs to move, and fast. ] Fight you? [ in the nick of time, genos swerves, hand gripping at the cutting arm—it's harsh, he could twist it out of the socket at a moment's notice, but he won't. to their mutual dismay, it does leave a wide opening for a seized fist to knock the wind out of his gut. ] As you wish.

[ if he'd just landed a punch and not said a word, this would have been easier, more clean-cut. but he just had to say it in such a way, like he's jesting, making light of something sonic had once been pleased to hear. a sliver of that returns to him, just a spark of something that might have eventually meant something to him—

and then it's gone. replacing it is the thin curve of his lips, a jolt of energy that propels him just as much as that metal hand to his stomach does. maybe all he really needed was a strike to throw him back into reality, a spark of electric to his brain, something to remind him who he was before all of this happened. he wasn't some sorry whelp to be babied, or cradled as if he were something precious. no, he was a wanted man, a villain who doesn't falter, doesn't stop and hesitate for anyone, would sooner watch the world burn than stand among the silly little heroes who have a warped sense of integrity.

sonic wants to laugh outright at him, maybe even thank him for finally, finally opening up his eyes. instead, he'll rely on his body switching to autopilot, using the hold genos has on him as an anchor when he thrusts his free hand out and rams the heel of his palm into his throat. long fingers take no time in wrapping around the thick expanse of his neck, digging in like a viper would to hold on strong and steady. ]

Cute. [ trusting in his own strength, the raw power that only organic muscle can bring, sonic balances midair for a split second before his feet collide into the weaker plates at genos's forged abs, recalling the openings he found there to be less sturdy, more easy to break if the force applied to it was strong enough.

pretending to not know why he has that engraved in his mind is almost as troublesome as ripping from the cyborg's grip, but not by much. if sonic takes a little bit of him with him—a scrap of lining, perhaps a chunk of wire, who knows—he'll have to be forgiven, even when he stands a ways away from genos to observe it, inspect it, then toss it away to the side before he's moving at a breakneck speed towards him once more. ]

[ too far. this has gone way too far. sonic's shooting for the moon, and ending up head-first on the planet jupiter.

at least sensei always pulled his punched with his prized pupil. this is insane; it isn't the friendly tussle genos had foresaw, assumed they'd tumble here and there until they tired, call it a draw and pick up a burger or something to give to saitama when they checked up on him later.

that's not happening. he's seeing stars, laboring for air, one hand fumbling to pry his attacker off. never in his life would genos have expected anyone to be able to apply enough force to coax the life to flee from his windpipe, yet here he is, systems shorting out, scarcely registering the high-pressure payback further down. fair enough. he deserves that one, coughing and sputtering after the nightmare ends. ]

What is your problem?! [ he spits something into the dirt—grease, synthetic fluid, who cares—wiping the back of his mouth with unsteady knuckles. ] You call this play?

[ his chest is heaving. there's no time to recover, to wince at his scraps tossed aside like dust in the wind, when the relentless assault continues. the man's going to be hard-pressed to rattle him now: he's upping the ante, moving faster than ever before, unafraid now to lift an open palm when he's getting too close for comfort, streams of fire and electricity staving him off at the last second. his brow furrows when sonic's garments singe and smolder, revealing small strips of bare skin that lapse his judgement just long enough for him to get struck again, wheezing distortion into the oppressive air surrounding them. ]

Seriously— [ genos's arm swings, meeting only empty air. ] —will you just— [ he spins around, blindly grappling at nothing, his incineration cannon seemingly firing all on its own. by the time he can process what's taken place, a tightly-tied topknot of hair gently wafts to the ground.

oh.

oh no.

that was a mistake. a huge mistake. ]

I—... [ brightly burning eyes widen at the sight, stumbling as he backs up. he's made a mistake. that's a tail of hair, sonic's hair, laid down there...

oh, oh. his pride and joy, gone in a single mindless, furious blast. there's no turning back from this. ]

[ mistake treads lightly in the terms that could be said here. mistake would be accidentally dropping one's ice cream, a blindly wrong answer on a test, saying something out of line in the heat of the moment. this, though? not this. this is much more than just a simple mistake, and sonic has no room to properly process it as he watches his hair unceremoniously drop to the floor.

at first, it seems like he's not going to do anything at all, too shocked that he is. first, a hand reaches up to touch a lock that brushes against his cheek, much shorter than he's had it in years. the other one follows shortly after, combing through from top to bottom in one swoop, taking along some of the longer strands that isn't as clean-cut as the rest of it seems to be. sonic stares at the flaying hairs nestled in his palm, expression blank, before he focuses back on genos.

many things run through his mind at a speed he's unused to, so heavy and sluggish yet simultaneously a whirlwind faster than himself. what just happened—? ]

... [ ah, there it is. the realization finally locks into place.

there's a fleeting expression of hurt on his face, one that shouldn't be there (it shouldn't—), but it's gone in a flash, almost like it had never happened. that's very much like sonic himself, who—in as blind of a rage as he's ever been in before—zips across the stretch of land that separates them both with every intention to kill. ]

[ genos can't look away. nothing will be able to eliminate the there-and-gone anguish forever burnt onto his eyelids. he's as beside himself as sonic is, dumbly redirecting his gaze down to his still-smoking opened hand. did he do that...? hair grows back, of course (unless you're sensei), but it's the principle of the thing that has him trembling, too shell-shocked by the situation to break into a run and flee as far away as possible.

calling a truce is impossible. the only reparations that can be made here will be with torn wires and viscous grease, maybe alongside some sunny clumps of shock-proof hair for good measure.

he should stand down, let sonic take his fill from here. the adrenaline sizzling in his circuits, unfortunately, won't let him have his say; jet black arms prevent the onslaught from escalating, deflecting a batch of exploding shuriken, careless when metal meets metal, sonic slicing through the barrier of smoke.

the fiend's going to hate it when genos is put back onto the defensive, but his options are few. by backpedaling into the nearest still-standing building he's hoping to minimize the damage of every projectile. any chance of riochet ought to make him think twice before shooting off another dagger aimed straight for his armored core.

every dodge, every parry has his systems working overtime. on some level he's distantly pleased at being able to maintain his pace for the most part. there've been some slip-ups, minor damages he'll need to personally attend to when the dust has settled, but he's intact, he'll survive. in contrast, sonic's looking ragged, winded, more than likely blinded by rage and this alarmingly increasing need of his to take genos down, much more extreme than it normally should be for an everyday duel.

this can't keep going. frustrated, genos ducks underneath another messy punch, utilizing both the momentum and the weight of his mechanical body to plow sonic into the nearest wall, crushing his smaller frame and holding him fast with a hand wrapped around his throat. your turn.

they're finally at a standstill, though the lucky guess is it'll be temporary at best. calculating several steps ahead, he's already prepared to avoid an elbow to the nose, or a knee jamming into his already sensitive lower half, adding it to the mental list of areas he'll need to scan for repairs when the moment arrives. ]

[ the only satisfaction sonic will get is if genos goes down. his once-calculated moves, however, aren't doing so well, aiming and landing hits but not doing quite enough to quench his thirst. they're akin to what that blizzard of a woman was doing, an unbridled outburst of pure anger, frustration dripping from every pore on his body. yet the fit he's throwing is less graceful than before, more rough around the once smooth edges as he continues his onslaught.

nothing makes sense again. all he sees is red through his rampage, a passionate ferocity sonic's never show this much of. usually it's lighthearted, maybe a little bit fun, if he played his cards right. killing was always done with precision, lacking the hysterics and despair he's treading through currently. why did this matter so much? it is just hair, albeit important and significant to him for many reasons, but it shouldn't set him off like this, not in such a vehement fashion.

just as genos predicted, sonic won't stop once he's trapped, doing much more than just flailing his limbs around; sharp nails now exposed in the open slice through a mimicry of skin at the cyborg's cheek, unsatisfied when it's breached and cut into, revealing nothing that'll ooze and bleed out. for some reason that just makes him even angrier, lashing out to try and take out an eye next, though he misses his mark when it's dodged just barely in the nick of time. ]

Fuck you! [ spits it out, going so far as to do just that into his face, past the point of caring how he shows off his bitterness, the animosity that vibrates through him. ] I'll kill you—!

[ how long will this go on for? sonic can't see, so blurred from his anger, the unacceptable retaliation his system delivers to him, wanting nothing more than to tear off genos's limbs and feel some kind of comfort in the violence he's always fallen back on. that's safe, that's territory he can stand tall upon, loathing the way his legs can barely kick out, one trapped and the other kneeing around a thigh that's dangerously close to his—

wait.

pauses in his attack to look down at the mass that's definitely not what he thought it was. confusion mixed with ire is written on his face, lips turned downward into a puzzled frown. then slowly, oh-so slowly, he becomes aware of what he's looking at, what's being pressed against him in what should be a comical fashion. if sonic were more like himself, had his wits about him, he'd probably cackle, tease, make light of this entire affair, how absurd it all is. ]

Are you fucking kidding me? [ none of his usual characteristics jump to attention, getting lost in a strange haze, a strange contortion to his face, too, while he's at it. no, he doesn't care if this dumb robot finally has junk on him, though his movements to get away are less brutal than before, as if he's losing steam. ] Get off of me!

[ oh, right. this thing.

this thing he'd commissioned from dr. kuseno after hearing the not-so-subtle of a next time that were never acted upon. why wait, genos had thought, if i act now, by the time it actually happens, then...

it wasn't an easy conversation by any means. reminding the good doctor of his desire to continue living as normal of a human life as possible helped to steer him in the right direction. i've met someone, he'd lie, and if things keep going the way they are, then i'm hoping to... pathetic, really, in the grand scheme of things. who is he to think he'd ever get to bed someone properly, let alone the untouchable speed of sound sonic?

he completely forgot he was equipped for it. today wasn't supposed to turn out as...eventful as it has, and with circumstances spiraling beyond the boy's control, this is the result, snugly fitted between them. unused to the scenario, it's uncomfortable, to say the least, yet he wants to press closer, drill right into sonic until the ache subsides.

this takes priority over their struggle, so preoccupied that it takes sonic hissing at him to notice his face is more bare and tattered than it once was, there's something tacky underneath his eyes (spittle, sonic is positively fuming at him, the pest), and he's talking, still talking, having the gall to spew out nonsensical threats when he's in no position to be telling anyone to do anything right now.

but genos is, rattling him against the wall with a sneer. ] Shut up. Just shut up for five seconds...

[ he's trying to catch his breath, figure this out, here. he'd love nothing more than for sonic to dial it down a notch, let the fatigue seep into his bones, and just be quiet for a moment while they rebuild what's gotten shattered apart. genos would be lying if he said he's understood at last where this all stemmed from, how a fight for fun rose to assault and battery in the blink of an eye. although he's no stranger to losing himself in the heat of a battle, this goes beyond that into dangerous territory best left alone.

easy. breathe. his grasp on sonic tightens, feeling the bob of an adam's apple underneath his heavy thumb, legs squeezing reflexively and causing this new thing in his pants to rock against him further. ]

[ was this really happening? sure, sonic's no stranger to awkwardly intimate encounters, he's been through more than he'd willingly admit. this still wasn't the time, nor was it the place, not when they're literally at each other's throats. maybe in a different universe it could have happened in a more peaceful scenario, just another delightful afternoon, or evening, that escalated into something more.

none of that will come to pass. sonic lost sight of that weeks ago, still hellbent on breaking him apart, but tired enough to settle down temporarily, stare the kid down, try to figure out what's making him hesitate.

why did genos look so confused? unless... ]

Ha—? [ even with his throat so close to being crushed, sonic manages to huff out a weak form of laughter, regarding genos with a heavy gaze. ] What's that? You have a dick and haven't even used it yet?

[ how long has it even been there? when did he get it? was it mortifying for him to ask for it, beg to have something more, unsatisfied with using his fingers and his tongue to shove inside of his latest attraction?

another spark of something much more interesting overrides his fury, easily masking it behind his usual cocky self. too bad sonic doesn't bend and break that easily, especially not when he's told to do something in such a demanding fashion. in fact, he'll do just the opposite, feeling much more empowered than anyone has any right to in the position he's currently in. still, it's easy to go back to the start, grasp at the reigns of his sanity once something is a suitable distraction. if the kid didn't look downright mortified, he'd still be scratching and biting his way to victory, if he had half a mind to slow down and give himself the chance to focus. as it stands, the (not so) little problem they're having is a suitable enough deterrent. sonic will take it. ]

Got riled up while we were fighting, did you? [ if he can't shine in the heat of battle, he'll just have to do it elsewhere, knowing exactly where he needs to put his energy into from this point onward. wanting to hit closer to home with this, his prisoner pointedly shifts his pelvis, a grind of his hipbone against the new firmness greeting him from below. ] This is what turns you on, huh?

[ yes, much better. he bodily feels much more loose, less wound up and ready to pounce at the glowing core he didn't have the chance to yank out, crush with his bare hands. maybe it's a blessing in disguise, he'd hate to have missed out on something like this. ]

Pathetic. [ because it is, sort of— ] Disgusting.

[ well, that last bit isn't too much of a stretch, but it's meant to egg him on further, half-hoping he'll get angry enough to drop him, let him go, burst his fists into flames once more. if not, well... sonic can roll with the punches, so to say, as they come along. ]

Edited 2016-01-09 11:50 (UTC)

[ why is he still talking? this is the longest conversation they've held since they fled from saitama's building, and it's nowhere near the direction genos wants it go (he'd prefer it grinds to a halt, in fact).

he's embarrassed beyond belief. what, does this small, skinny scrap of a shinobi think he meant to do this on purpose? is he really so conceited to assume this has anything to do with him? the change in technique is making him angrier, all right, but if he's betting on genos blasting him to smithereens or hurling him across the room, he's got another thing coming.

you can end this. squeeze harder, make sure you're hitting the trachea. he really, really should. it'd solve everyone's problems: genos wouldn't have to spend every waking moment fixated on the object of his desire anymore, and sonic wouldn't have to worry about tearing apart his target, wouldn't worry about a thing when there's no air left in his lungs.

genos can end this. but he's so young, so foolish that the roll of a narrow hip into him leaves him reeling, using his leverage to shove sonic just a tiny bit further up the wall, closer to eye level, farther from the distracting weight hanging between his legs.

you haven't used it, he asks? technically speaking... ] Not on you.

[ here sounds like a good spot to cut it short. he could scoff at the insults, keep throttling sonic until he passes out. or headbutt him, that sounds good, too. however...

if sonic wants to change up the momentum, so will genos. there's a strange look to him as he considers his next words, influenced by the now-steady rocking sonic thinks he can tantalize him with. he isn't wrong, not necessarily, but there's so much happening right now it's unbelievably difficult to zero in on what takes the highest priority. part of genos still wouldn't mind thrashing him senseless, while another would love to do it in a new and provocative way. ]

You would like that, wouldn't you? I could fuck you here.

[ he could. he might. mainly he's calling out sonic's bluff, unable to tell if there's a lingering hint of interest here, or if he's merely using all the weapons at his disposal to bring genos down.

naively he hopes it's the former, but with their recent track record, the reality is probably a more bitter pill to swallow. ]

[ interesting is the first word that comes to mind when sonic takes a second to regard their current predicament, even when he feels the telltale signs of his oxygen supply becoming dangerously close to being cut off, a dizzying and yet somehow comforting sensation.

if he really wanted to go back to fighting tooth and nail, use every secret ninja technique in the book, sonic could easily escape. he could, and he would, except for the fact that he doesn't have it in him to try. the fight has fled from him, gone in the blink of an eye when the hero tries to act tough, tries to be more than just some horny teenager who pitched a tent unknowingly in front of another person.

in a certain light, that could be funny. sonic could bark in his face, tear the demon cyborg's arm clean off his torso, among other functions he's very convinced he'd have access to easily. the bloodlust doesn't feel as powerful as before, however, even if he hopes the fire will reignite anew, propel him to go in for the kill after all is said and done.

you won't. is it now when he'll actually listen to that nagging voice that keeps pestering him so?

ignoring that temporarily, sonic returns to the present. one thin, inky eyebrow rises in response to genos's goading. guess he gets points for trying, pointedly avoiding to acknowledge how it speeds up his heart rate just a bit, a thrill of a different kind almost, almost making him do more than just hang there limply.

no, not yet. not when they're just getting started. ]

Bold words coming from a virgin. [ because he knows. confident that he's being held up by more than just the hand clutched at his throat, a smaller, less threatening one rises for the chase, gingerly fingering the same spots he'd touched so gently what feels like ages ago, back in his main base of operations. the cables at his nape are more exposed now, a slight sizzling dancing across unexposed digits when he caresses them, yet sonic still thumbs and sweeps across the most sensitive—most ruined, to some degree—part of his neck. ] Pervert.

[ he had to go there, didn't he? even now, it's just like sonic to bring up a minor technicality, rub his foe wrongly enough to incite him to a five-minute on how wrong that is, here's why, how are you ignoring the straight faces when they're staring you right in the face—

—forget it. genos won't fall for that. touching him has a higher success rate, anyway, eyes opened wide from the electricity jolting him. damn him, he knows too much. sonic knows every basic cybernetic component like the back of his hand. if he so chose, he's still in a prime position to bring genos to his knees, make a hasty exit (presuming he doesn't bash his brain in first).

they're at a stalemate. there's no clear winner or loser in this contest, though genos is beginning to fear he's losing some of the advantage he gained. with a sour twist to his features, he peels the set of offending fingers off of him, capturing the wrist they belong to and slamming it to the concrete. without the benefits of his bulk, relying on gravity and a sheer force of will to keep sonic held down, he has nothing. his aim is to prolong until sonic gives in, calls it off. at this rate, however, that could take hours.

whatever. genos didn't have anything else lined up for the afternoon. ]

Look who's talking. I can feel you. [ that's the blatant cue, but there are others: he can detect the blood flow underneath his skin, the dilated gray pupils boring into his, the subtle shift of his breathing. genos has all the answers he needs for the time being—he can't decide, however, if he's actually going to follow through on his words or not.

he supposes he could. this may not be how he envisioned the next time to unfold, but there are always other repeat performances in store, unless the repetitive feels like stopping dead in his tracks here. it's another harsh truth he's prepared to grudgingly accept, as virtually nothing lasts forever. ]

[ backing off when an opportunity like this arises isn't sonic's style. he's all for games, has made this abundantly clear so many times before. the situation they've pulled themselves into isn't any different, even if there's still a lingering touch of hatred still stirring in the crux of his person.

if genos weren't so damn entertaining, sonic wouldn't have stopped long enough to let him speak, let alone have him in such a compromising position.

a smirk is all he'll give him, unfazed as he typically is. his friend will have to try harder than that, but who says he doesn't have to do a little coaxing of his own, reel him in even if his hand twitches against a steely prison? but he has so many options at his disposal, many roads to take. how will this all play out...? ]

Congratulations. [ there won't be anymore movement on his end, willingly allowing genos to trap him in such a fashion. if he wanted to be completely honest, there's some excitement to that, too. taking and receiving pain isn't exactly a pastime of his, but it can be a bonus, if it all plays out right.

for all sonic knows, genos could be dragging out the inevitable violence, the last straw in an otherwise fine partnership they once had. but he knows him better than that.

everything would be so much easier if he'd just loosen that vice grip on his neck. he'll just have to use the only remaining limb that has any remote possibility to move; a taunt thigh shoves itself aside, baring himself to the blond further, but his ultimate goal is to hook it around the back of a thicker one, another mockery of their previous play that's now so many days behind them. ] You want a prize?

Edited 2016-01-09 21:01 (UTC)

[ he'll have to excuse genos's seduction techniques for not being up to par. it didn't have much of an effect weeks and weeks ago, and he's made no great strides since then.

the situation at hand is something of a handicap. he still isn't completely convinced their war is over, fearful that if he backs off for even a second, it's going to end with his face in the dirt, and a distress signal sent dr. kuseno's way to piece him together again. it wouldn't be the first time it's ever happened.

but what if he's wrong? what if sonic's ready to give him what he's been obsessing over since the first time they seriously touched? perhaps there's something the worn-down hero needs to get out of his system as well, less so with his fists and more with an apparatus he's only made use of behind closed doors, whenever sensei's out shopping for dinner.

maybe. if he can wear sonic down. it figures this would be a seemingly complex puzzle; back in school, back in an ordinary, everyday life he can no longer return to, all it used to take were a few sweet words, a heartfelt confession...and making sure your parents weren't home never hurt anything, if you managed to actually make it that far (or so he's overheard). ]

I want you. [ this isn't part of the dance. this is a sincere declaration from a besotted teenager who has no idea what he's doing here in the grimy edges of z-city. the skin's continuing to flake off of his cheekbone, revealing the grotesque and vast network of circuits and steel ensconced within. his wiring is as frayed in several places as his mind is, the panic of a fight-or-flight situation slowly ebbing, but still hovering on the edges of his psyche.

letting go of sonic is a painfully slow ordeal, taking a risk when his grasp on him slackens, gingerly rubbing over the finger-shaped bruises beginning to bloom. it's slower still for him to clutch at the ends of recently-shorn hair, forcing his head back for further exposure.

he looks good like this. he looks good in any position, regardless of the maniacal glee smeared on him from earlier, or when he's in peaceful repose, a side of him genos had just started to get used to. will he ever see that again? those long days of recuperation may not have ever happened at all, not with how long ago and far away they're feeling now.

genos wants that too, but he'll take what he can get in the meantime. ]

[ the release gives him a chance to actually breathe, having fallen back on very shallow, narrow breathes to keep himself from going under. this isn't as satisfying as he had hoped it to be, but whatever, he'd rather help escalate this in other, more fascinating areas, anyway.

... but then he had to go and say something like that, and then have the gall to pull on his hair—

a quick jerk of his head and snap of his teeth will be all the warning he'll get, dragging genos impossibly close with the leg caged around him like so. that offers enough leverage for sonic to move more freely, shooting out at a lightning-fast speed to mirror what genos tried to accomplish, tangling into the roots of his synthetic hair with no intentions of letting it go anytime soon. ]

Like you've earned it? [ pulls at it harshly, a warning of sorts, showing him that he's more than capable of ramming his own claws through his skull and do more than just cut off a few spiky locks. ] Don't you touch me there ever again, you piece of shit.

[ as always, the adrenaline that's birthed from petty spite is easy to roll off his shoulders. showing that he means no further harm, sonic wills his joints to loosen, now cupping the back of genos's head instead as he settles back to center. there's a lot that could be done here, a lot that could be said, too.

pursuing any of those would just put them somewhere back to the start, and he's... tired, maybe, of doing the same old song and dance. he's tired of working himself to the bone to avoid the impending doom he knew would be approaching sooner or later, the unavoidable, undeniable attraction that's wrapped itself around sonic just as securely as a strong hand had been against fragile tendon.

that hits home more than sonic would normally permit, but it's still there, so conspicuous and prominent and infuriating.

i want you. so what? who cares? any number of people want him, he knows that, utilizes it to his ability in every context it could serve. yet here he knows (he knows) it has a heavier meaning to it, averting his gaze off to the side as the realization pins him there with a force much greater than genos's body.

shit. ripping his attention back to where it belongs, sonic offers genos a long, fixed stare. and then he's suddenly less tense, less coiled so tightly, tipping his head back to once again bare his neck, though this time by his own will. a frown still lingers at the bottom of his lips, jutting out in a childish pout. i'm still mad at you, you dumb toaster— ]

Prove it. [ if he wants him so badly, he's going to have to do a lot more than just spout a heartfelt claim. ]