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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[ a change in position is good, relishing in the way strong hands spread him so nicely, fitting against negative space so perfectly, having no right to be as arousing as it currently is.

the promises he hopes won't be broken or forgotten opens up the last of his resistance, humming out while his body shakes from the exertion, the tingle and prickle of skin under what remains of his constrictive attire. that's already begun tearing off in bits and pieces, leaving behind armor in the trail of their fight, his scarf lazily hanging off of him, ready to fall at a moment's notice. at least he has plenty more where that came from, although he still laments the trouble he'll have once this is all over with. ah well.

what to do? with his surge of murderous intent now laying dormant, there's only one way they can go. sonic's fully expecting genos to actually follow through with the nonsense he's grunting out, not leave him high and dry, disappointed and crankier than ever. something tells him that won't be the case, but he'll still err on the side of caution, even as his companion moves in to nose around a blotched patch of skin.

now he wishes he could do more of the work, just rip and tug down the pants trapping what he's getting ever so more curious about as time passes. what did it look like? was it going to be startlingly similar to a human's? were there piles of blueprints strewn about in that laboratory genos had mentioned a few times before, mapping out the hows and whys of a robotic prick?

that's almost hilarious... but nobody's laughing here. ]

Then do it. [ to show that he means it, really means it, he does a little nuzzling of his own, cock his head in such a way to pointedly inspect the intricate insides that construct the curve of genos's cheekbone. and then he pokes his tongue out, fearlessly licking a short stripe against the exposed wiring, a slight hitch to his breath when he's greeted with the tiniest of volts from his prying. ] Fuck me, Genos.

[ not toaster, not robot, not any other stupid nicknames he's thrown at him; it might or might not be the first time sonic's said it, undecided if he likes the way it rolls out so easily, almost sweet in flavor to match against the bitterness he'll continue to harbor. ]

[ this is it, the green light he's been waiting for. in his haste he nearly drops sonic to the floor in an unceremonious heap, recovering at the last possible second with a clenched jaw (sonic can probably see the mechanisms move as he does so) and a newfound determination. ]

As you wish. [ he's not mocking him anymore, evident from his trembling tone, the slight trepidation in it giving way to an irritated noise when he realizes he hasn't a clue of how the logistics will work here. ] Hold on. [ serious about it, he has to let go, confident in sonic's strength to keep himself upright for at least a few minutes while he fumbles with his belt buckle, claws at the zipper.

shit. he hasn't done this before; at home he always had the leisure of undressing in his own time, experimenting with how to summon his phallic friend and get the most use out of it. freeing it is awkward, not expecting it to eagerly flop into open air, colliding with the crease of sonic's leg and wincing at the blow. kuseno swore up and down the device was rigged to be extra sensitive in lieu of how genos is wired as a whole. replicating the human anatomy isn't one hundred percent possible at this point, but it's impeccably hot, firm to the touch, and he can assuredly feel every sensation imposed on it down to the last molecule. he can speak from personal experience.

one hurdle is clear. how about the others? sharp eyes take in the business sonic has going on, knowing of no other way to break down the barriers between them than to widen those tears around his crotch, behind him, underneath. it's a contradiction to his harshness when he's stuttering apologies into the man's bruised flesh, hands everywhere at once—to lift his hips back to center, one silicone-padded palm smoothing down the small of his back and lower, kneading into solid muscle. now his blunt cockhead can slide against him more freely, gritting his teeth in the process. this is already more than he can handle, and they've barely done anything yet. those catcalls of being such a virgin are going to drip off of sonic's tongue, he just knows it. ]

[ sliding down an inch or so when he's released raises no cause for concern, not when doing a balancing act is second nature to him. besides, it's so much more fun to be a spectator, settling in as comfortably as he can get, hanging on to broad shoulders that he may or may not have missed touching. while genos flounders about, sonic will consider them, how they're once again a different color, chiseled in a more unique way. was this why he was so fast before? another boosted upgrade to put the ones before it to shame?

speaking of which: the soft, pulsing glow peeking out from black plates of steel seem to be getting brighter, distracted by the warmth and progressively louder hum his friend's inner system plays. it's fascinating to see it when he's not wrapped in a veil of barbarous destruction, that haze having been cleared some time ago to make way for bigger and better things. still, sonic can't stop himself from marveling, tracing down a clothed joke of a belly, too hard and dense to be something close to his own.

and then he goes further south, teetering on the edge of mirth for all the trouble this rock-hard cyborg is treading through. that's fine, sonic will once again take it in stride, give him room to figure things out, much like he did the first time they were intimate.

at least now he can look at the thing, skating the heel of his palm directly below where his ribcage would be, applying enough pressure to keep him from crashing back into him for a second or two more. sonic wants to look at this, what'll eventually be inside of him, even when he's unabashedly exposed and presented wide open, leaving nothing to the imagination. it's not like it's anything genos has never seen before, wasn't once prying and stretching in sonic's nether regions with a strong need to please.

sentimental values aside, it's... nice to be able to see him like this, even if those whispered words to excuse his behavior causes that strange heat to flare at the very ends of his ears, like it had so many times before. sonic mentally shakes that aside, happier to focus on the easy slide of a slightly ribbed rod against his own rigid flesh, sighing out in absolute relief once they're forced together.

he'll have to be forgiven if his face wants to bury into the dirty bunch of fabric at the crook of a slightly torn neck, arms following suit to lock around him, presumably for further leverage. ]

[ he's so good. genos forgot how good he was; his memories are stale, hazy, left discarded on sonic's living room floor. some of this is familiar territory, his wet tip catching on places he's ventured into before, but never like this. no longer will he have to wonder what this is like, wallowing in self-indulgent fantasies he never would've dreamed he could take part in. it is pathetic, to an extent, that it had to be someone like sonic who awakened a part of him once thought long dormant, a shred of his former humanity lost to time and circumstance.

yet here they stand, ready for round two. it's amazing how sonic can tone it down so quickly, a far cry from the bloodthirsty hellcat he was just a few minutes ago. winning him over wasn't the exhausting challenge genos anticipated it to be, which provides him with another mystery he'll have to unravel in the near future. the spark that ignited him is still unknown. is there a clue here to link the two, what brought his urges for playtime on only to have it subside in the face of deceivingly dark, amorous threats?

now isn't the time to ask. that's probably for the best, since genos is in no state to string two words together, let alone finish his current train of thought. long-overlooked instincts are beginning to take over, blindly butting into sonic and missing his mark. idiot, of course it's not that easy...

it won't deter him from trying, huffing when he can't make any headway, can't simply shove himself inside of sonic like he's wanting to do. shouldn't this be simpler? he's missing a piece to the puzzle here, too distracted by sonic's hands all over him to give it the acute consideration it deserves. he hadn't really been touched last time, save for a mischievous stroke to his neck here, a filthy, overpowering kiss there.

he should do it more, genos decides, gruffly ordering such while he continues to figures this out at his own pace. ]

[ expecting a little more force to be given was foolish on sonic's part. this isn't entirely how he thought it would go, not really putting any emphasis on his light chiding of genos being a bumbling virgin of a cyborg.

ambition can only go so far when you're lacking experience. the hero is lucky that sonic is more patient than he leads people to believe, double so if it's with someone he maybe hold some affinity for. that last point is a begrudging fact. he'd still sooner bite his own tongue than admit it without a struggle, too stubborn and shrouded with the image he must maintain. is it all a farce, now? hardly, yet the famous speed of sound sonic wouldn't give up his title of a killer that easily, too set in his ways to ever toss it aside.

at least he won't have to use those skills he's so very proud of this time, liking the low growl in genos's throat, the manner in which he speaks his command.

how could he refuse? it almost makes him snicker, shoulders shaking in an effort to not break the ice. a pair of lips enclose around the singular ribbon leading up to his iron jaw, latching onto it with sharp teeth. there's no malice in the bite, not wanting to do more damage than he's already inflicted on the man; all of that inhuman thunder he produced will be replaced with something both of them can enjoy. with his legs up and out of the way, it gives him more room to go and explore again, running feather-light fingertips up and under his shirt, just feeling to feel. sonic's already acquainted with genos's body, especially from the front, but it's all for pretense and not an actual goal of his to seek out every sharp edge and ridge coating his bionic form.

no, his real destination is where a foreign hot cock lies in waiting, an insatiable longing now burning from the tips of his toes all the way back to the base of his spine. at first he skirts around it, barely giving the thing a passing glance with his hand, almost as if he were going to do no more than ghost over it. in reality he's doing what he does the best: teasing at a tantalizingly slow pace, making sure that genos understands that the position he's currently contorted into doesn't put him at a disadvantage.

with a short, rough palm to himself, he seeks out what he avoided before. it feels much like silicone, less like the hard plastic he would have guessed it to be, but it's still so hot to the touch, warmer than the heat radiating between their bodies, and slightly... sticky?

oh. the realization doesn't hit him until he's rocked against, butted up and over the cleft of his ass, leaving a trace of liquid he really hopes isn't what he thinks it is. a pregnant pause later is when relief floods his person, glad that the inexperienced teenager didn't just bust one on his thigh, if the thing even did that to begin with. this is so much better, so much more arousing, unable to keep himself from outright groaning because goddamn, sonic really lucked out, didn't he? it's a dizzying thought, that much is certain, but it pales in comparison to guiding a leaking tip at his entrance, swirl it around like so to at least coat puckered flesh. it leaves his legs quivering, wanting to spread them wider, seat himself down fully on the prize that's so damn close, yet still unable to do much more than whine lowly in the shell of genos's ear, hoping that'll set him in the right direction. ]

[ returning sonic's free range of motion to him was clearly the right choice. it's the fact he listens that gets under genos's wiring and hits him straight to the core. everything else is a mere bonus, careless of where his fingertips are headed, what his dull teeth feel like sinking into. he's accustomed now to the rush accompanying every twinge of an exposed cable, and if he's trickling a little more onto sonic as a result, it's strictly automatic, something he hasn't yet mastered the control.

he has many features, and not enough minutes in the day to showcase all of them. what sonic's feeling now is a start, with much more on its way. ]

...don't laugh. [ this is serious business. genos can't hear it, but he can see the stirrings of it in the line of his shoulderblades, somewhat relieved he's looking everywhere except his face for the moment, hazarding a guess he'd find some misguided mirth there as well. deep down, he's still keyed up, still raw. parts of him are missing—minor causalities, but it's the principle of the thing—and there's blood on his knuckles, none of it his. not to mention his sensei is somewhere out there. although he'll never be in any immediate danger, genos feels like he's letting him down by not being there by his side.

it's such a mess. sonic has the misfortune of baring the brunt of his ire, despite that more of the blame goes to the events which lead them here than anything else. when it's all said and done, he'll have a hundred apologies lined up for his brashness. until then— ]

I can do it. [ his sharp growl is shrouded in distortion, all sonic's doing, that smooth pest. quick as a flash, his hands are redirected, pinned back to the wall where they arguably should have been for the whole duration. it's petty, he knows, to trap both wrists above his head while lining himself up to finish the job, but by this point he couldn't care less. this is the least he can do as far as payback is concerned, since no amount of brute strength or firepower is going to otherwise make a difference.

never mind that he was trying to help, tried to make it an easier union for them. the stinging swell of affection is ignored on genos's part, soon left behind once hot and tight interfere with his senses entirely.

and here he thought he'd felt it all, buried palm-deep inside of sonic's depths to do such fantastic things to him. the difference is like night and day, not even breaking past the first inch or so before he has to stop, every mechanism of his blaring at full blast. he's beyond feeling self-conscious about it, forced to prop the remainder of his weight up against crumbling concrete, lest his knees give way.

why did they have to do this out in the open first? why not a bed, or at least someplace they could've sat? it's what he gets for being too compulsive. ]

[ would they have even gotten anywhere had they not stopped to do this? sonic would like to think no. he'd been so pissed off beforehand, would sooner take off genos's head than readily accept the other one that breaches him slowly, carefully. there'd be no sounds of passion, just more death threats to follow the hits and kicks that didn't quite make it to their mark. sonic has half a mind to return to their fight instead, show him just how good he is, that he was only taking misstep after misstep because—

ah, this is another thing he won't shine a light under, not even in private. maybe sometime in the distant future, when he's either cleaved a robotic body in two, or something else in an entirely less violent fashion comes to pass. sonic can't see that far ahead, can barely see at all to begin with, anyway, what with his (too short) hair falling into his line of vision once his arms are pressed above his head.

his hair. with genos acting so befuddled and cautious, it proved as a great distraction, soothed the ache left inside his chest from their fight. in an encore performance, the bitterness boils dangerously in his small form, snorting out even as he's being penetrated. not even that goes very far, getting worked up even more from the lack of performance, needing to get his frustrations out somehow. ]

You're doing a lousy job of showing it. [ god, he has half a mind to do some real damage again, glaring at him sidelong. what happened to all those things he said just moments ago? why the hell is he stopping? ] You really are pathetic.

[ what was he expecting, for genos to nail him like a pro as soon as they made contact?

that burns him up. he can't help it if there are adjustments that have to be made here. sonic is so full, so slippery, and it takes an elongated pause for his brain to catch up and point out this is by his own doing, you utter moron.

is it something that's supposed to happen? the boy doesn't know if that's supposed to happen...he's climaxed before, oh yes, a dozen times in the last two days alone, but the level of slick fluid trickling out of where he's passed through sonic is unreal. huh. it certainly explains why he bordered on shutting down for a second there. could sonic tell? he must, if the stink-eye he's receiving is any indicator.

god. so much for thinking they'd rebuilt the bridges they burned. it may take more than an impressive cock for that one. ]

Oh my god. [ he swears an oath under his breath, the gold rings of his eyes staring daggers back at sonic tenfold. ] Shut. Up.

[ genos has taken the bait, swallowed it whole. his hips snap, one stroke shoving him inside until he bottoms out. is that what you want? it's a flawless motion he's all too happy to repeat again and again, a sloppy tattoo of thrusts pummeling him mindlessly. metal digits curl into the wall with such force they leave craters in their wake, inches away from sonic's head. does he actually know what he's in for here, or is this a classic case of him underestimating his mark? ]

[ sonic's momentarily surprised, a fleeting spark of it flitting across his features, gone as soon as he's being pounded into like nothing else in the world matters. that might as well be true—he's finally, finally getting what he wanted, absolutely elated that genos is just that damn predictable. they've only spent a very short time together, but sonic would like to think he knows him pretty well, can guess just exactly what he has to say that'll have him wrapped around a finger.

figuratively speaking, anyway. the ninja's in no position to do much of anything when he's pinned from top to bottom, practically melding into the wall from the sheer force of genos's hips, his grip, the momentum that's quite literally knocking the breath out of him.

this is good. sonic didn't want some heartfelt reunion, to be taken as if he were something treasured. a hard, quick fuck like this is all it'll take, even if he won't be cruel enough to spit at him for the lack of decorum, how he's not even pistoning correctly, that he's going to lose his cool and maybe just break down or short out at this rate.

whatever. even if the physical satisfaction is meager at best, he'd rather have this than hear kind apologies being whispered to him, the touch of lips to the scars littered across his body, a phantom pain sonic just wants out of his head for good. genos can ram into him all he likes, get close to crushing him, if need be, just as long as it'll keep everything at bay for a while longer.

shutting up isn't really his specialty, so when he's able to realign himself properly, he'll continue to prattle on through a choked voice about how much he hates him, a string of incoherent threats that he has to take a pause on once genos actually hits his mark. the temporary bliss comes and goes way too quickly, and he huffs out in more than just abandoned exertion, head tilted back as far as it can go to brace himself further against the botched timing of his thrusts. ]

[ why on earth does he have to keep shooting off his big mouth? if genos was a different breed of hero, he might counteract all this drivel from the opposite end of the spectrum, rumbling sweet nothings into his ear with the heaviest breaths he can manage to egg him on.

as it stands, he's tongue-tied, and sonic is free to continue his rambling as he sees fit. much like the clenching of his walls around him, he tries to drown it out, putting his attentions elsewhere. monitoring how sonic reacts seems like as good of a place to start as any: without the right information at hand, he doesn't have a ghost of a chance to improve his technique. direct experience is the only way he can learn and grow.

so he studies him from head to toe, taking note of which movements have sonic wringing his cock like he's going to milk him dry (these are few, thus far), which leave him laboring for more air than usual, and those which don't appear to have much of an impact on him in the slightest (these are the majority). just because there's bad blood between them, genos hasn't stopped being himself, not for one second. he's always so eager to please, especially since sonic's become something of a semi-permanent fixture in his life, for better or for worse. and nothing would be better than pleasing him here, now—why else did he get this stupid thing hard-wired to his body? he was perfectly fine living without it before.

that, and he really does want to shut the guy up, just once, maybe for thirty seconds or so. ]

... [ here. here. he's found it; without a pair of fingers to scissor and stretch and seek it out, he was oblivious to discovering that magic place to nudge just so and turn sonic's bones to jelly. it doesn't last, hitting it so fast and harsh it must barely register to him, judging by his temporary lapse in insults. not good enough.

genos slows, easing up on his lackluster rhythm, but not the intensity. he's found an inner beat he can work with, sliding out till his crown reaches the edge of sonic's twitching hole, then glides back in, striking with purpose. he knows he's got it when the other man's keening starts to replace the filth he'd been verbally hurling in his direction. good. it's not what he wants, not completely, but it's an improvement to the inadequate performance he'd previously provided him.

his hands stay put, one still coiled tightly around sonic's wrists, the other itching to stray when he's yearning to touch him so fondly. not yet. it's too soon. ]

[ finding this to be enjoyable was difficult until the dumb kid finally had enough sense to ease up, map out the playing field, do more than just give it to him roughly. sometimes that's fine in the rawest sense of the word, but it's only reserved for those who actually know how to do it, a category genos isn't entirely falling under thus far.

unlike his enthusiastic friend here, sonic's guessing this will be a one-off, just a way to blow off steam before they can go their separate ways. maybe it's charitable on his end to give the hero a chance to test out the heavy appendage that continues to leak out—even when buried deep inside him—only it isn't as clear-cut as he'd like it to be. so much more goes into this, a complicated batch of emotions he's dutifully stuffed in the farthest reaches of his mind. nobody really needs to dig into that mess, would much rather become a mess, thinking that'll come to pass sooner rather than later.

that won't happen, though, not when genos is landing his mark not once, but twice, and then a third time. what the hell?

one of his hands scramble to try and clap it over his mouth, yet the vice grip that keeps him there is still going strong, still successful in trapping him where he currently hangs. usually sonic's willing to shout and scream without a care in the world, but the yelp that's pushed out of him is completely and utterly unexpected, a frustrated glow of pink staining his ears.

sonic's usually so good at being in control, thrown off only momentarily, wanting nothing more than to put on another show instead, lead the march towards ecstasy and beyond. it's now when he realizes how stuck he is, regarding them both after the cloud of lust disperses, the compromising position they're in, how he's still moaning without express permission; watching the slide of genos's cock shouldn't be this mesmerizing (or arousing) but it's there, he's here, and what in the world are those sounds coming from his mouth—?

his brows knot together before he jerks his head away and to the side, clamping his teeth around his bottom lip. if he can at least muffle himself a little, maybe things won't be so... overwhelming, a sensation sonic's not used to, not with another person. ]

[ was that so difficult? it's nicer once sonic's trash-talk stops filling the air with absolute nonsense.

now genos can really tune in. more and more this sounds like what he was accustomed to after hours, though sonic's volume had been a lot more subdued back then. both are favorable, in genos's opinion, reserving a moment to savor what he has here, a small victory which won't last for long.

he sighs, a shuddering, shaky sound that emerges from the heart of him. it's a bit ear;y to tell on his behalf, but this seems more of his style, never one for plowing through anything (or anybody) in a furious frenzy when he doesn't have to. power over speed—it sounds right, sounds fitting. sonic doesn't feel the same, they've spoken about this at length, an irrelevant topic he has to cover his ears from every time it comes up. so they approach things differently, why, who cares? it's like comparing a grapefruit to a turniup.

against his own will, he keeps wanting to reach out, smooth the shock of hair away from sonic's face, curl the smoldering lines of his palm there. never. since the warning is fresh in his mind, he won't, opting to partially quench that whim by finally inching over to trace the curve of a purple mark under his eyelids, a laughable difference in tone to the way he's still driving into him, a gradual drag of his girth that always ends always ends in the finest stab he's capable of delivering. ]

...look at me. Pay attention. [ it's all well and good for genos's well-endowed areas to get their fair share of admiration, but he's more interested in looking at sonic directly, from the fan of his eyelashes to the prideful jut of his chin, so tempting to latch onto, yet still restraining himself from giving in to a fond compulsion that serves no purpose here, or so he assumes. ]

[ something's wrong again. the inability to pinpoint what it is exactly leaves sonic at yet another standstill, a slave to the steady in and out motions that rock him back and forth. it pinches just at the center of his eyes, an additional wrinkle to already rippled skin, fingers twitching with a need to flee, latch on to something solid instead of grappling at air.

with such a lack of power at his disposal, sonic releases the grip at his now-bruised lip, cracked shallowly at the seam from the pressure inflicted on it in his quest to be as silent as the grave. even those wishes are betrayed, a sob stubbornly being shoved back down until it becomes too much, releasing it in one long go. like last time, this is doing just the trick in breaking all of sonic's walls he's packed so tightly around himself, limbs quaking as he gradually begins leaking out from his untouched shaft. ]

I am paying attention, you— [ a particularly delicious slide begs for him to take another pause, steady the stuttering of a broken sentence. ] —you overgrown sex toy...

[ even when he's close, so very close to an early release, does he not stop from giving it his all, having to resort to his words since he's got nothing else at his disposal. it stops there, however, stubbornly refusing the former request as his head bows in a blatant act of defiance, tips down while eyes squeeze shut.

if he doesn't do this, doesn't stop from gazing into a striking view he knows is locked onto him, then he really would have lost it the moment his prostate was hit. this isn't about skill, or anything with any number of meaning behind it—it's just a very basic structure to his anatomy, a button that's being pushed for far too long. there's nothing embarrassing about that, sonic just hates that genos is rubbing the spot raw, a massage that would have any man spilling from the inside-out if teased long enough.

fine. even if he does let out a strangled moan, a shuddering wail, before he's coming over the edge, sonic still won't give the guy the satisfaction of seeing him when he does it, face blanketed heavily by a curtain of dark hair. this way he can pant out more openly, twist his expression into something more needy, more desperate, even after his release is done and over with. ]

Edited 2016-01-10 10:53 (UTC)

[ one of these days he'll be able to convince sonic to play along. it doesn't matter much in the long run—genos has seen him lost in the throes of at least one orgasm to date, and he'll accept number two for what it is, cataloging the sight of him to join the first. he's exceptional regardless of how much of himself he chooses to display. the issue isn't pressed, content to watch him throb and spill without touching a drop. it starts to smear against tattered fabric when genos huddles closer, overshadowing him.

some of his exasperation is waning. the post-coital vulnerability sonic is exuding might have something to do with it. or maybe he's just weary of sporting a grudge he never wanted to carry in the first place. this is all typical behavior; far be it from genos to point out he isn't the only one who's predictable. really, the intensity of it is the most shocking part. but that, too, is undeniably sonic.

he decides to let his wrists down, gradually reducing his iron grasp so they can land naturally. what follows is an unwieldy moment of catching his weight, a pair of arms caging his diminutive to support him, either to hold on to someone or knock genos upside the head, if he wishes. he's not going anywhere nonetheless, the canter of his hips ever present, although it's slowed to a crawl now that he's accomplished his main feature.

there'd be no shame in calling it quits here. it might even childishly prove a point to toss sonic aside, leave him shaking and sated in the rubble, and leave him to think about what he's done, what he's driven genos to do.

oh, but that path's not for him. not when you're a high-ranking hero with dozens (or hundreds?) of fans to your name, and certainly not when the notion of it carves an ache in the cavity of his chest where his heart used to thunder. you're too soft nowadays, a tiny demon dressed in purple jeers, sitting on his shoulder. yes, he knows. he knows.

not soft enough to cease rocking into sonic, however. his movements have gentled, no longer seeking out a means to fulfill him, but soaking in the tender edge of pleasure it brings now that some of his sensors are back online. he doesn't intend to overflow like before, prepared for what lies ahead and better able to deal with things as they come. damage control is a little more important than bringing either of them to another peak is.

genos will keep looking at sonic, whether or not the man refuses to do the same. ] I am your toy. [ it's a belated declaration, soft and low in the midnight veil of his hair. he's through with spitting venom. his hopes aren't high that his example's going to be followed, which is fine. it isn't for anyone's benefit. ]

[ a electrifying buzz hums through him now that he's gone limp in his bones, dissolving the remainder of his anger in small, gradual fractions, chalking it up to most of it being due to his release. sonic doesn't even realize he's being let go until there's a distinct addition of weight back to his body, hanging loosely where he's held, uncaring how he'll be handled thereafter.

when nothing comes—no sudden drop, a toss to the side, some muttered snide remarks that he'd been anticipating—sonic's curious enough to crack tired lids open, gazing down at nothing in particular. it's only when he's shifted further into a pair of arms does he startle, twitching languidly due to his entire body feeling heavier than before. weathered fingers find a home against bulky arms, loathing the idea of pressing too close, a hilarious notion, considering where they're at, what they're doing.

his lungs feel much like the metal casing that makes up genos's body, too unforgiving and inflexible as he heaves for breath, continues to pretend that he can't see even the slightest glimmer of a pair of eyes he knows is watching. ]

... [ why did he have to say stuff like that? what happened to their fists colliding, sharp teeth being bared, the sound of sharp steel against solid metal? when did it become this? sonic hates the way it's making him feel, less perplexed and more upset for being unable to take a stand against it, fight back with as much vivaciousness as he's portrayed before. now he's just a quiet mess, still hanging back for the most part, but very much so in tune with how genos is trying to lead this dance now, after everything's been said and done.

just another minute is all he'll need to dig out from the remains of his former, heartless carcass, using the feeling of fullness to bring him back, how hot and wet he still is. ]

... you're unpleasant. [ is what he says, but sonic finally emerges anew, peering up and out of the sad remains of his hair. with the livid splash of color painted on his face from something other than all-consuming anger, the small corresponding twist in his brows and lips, and the softer, much more trusting widen to his eyes are, it's clear that there's nothing sweltering and smoldering underneath his choice of words. ]

[ genos has the opposite problem: for him, there's no such thing as too close, hogging all of sonic's space till there's none left to spare.

he hasn't said stop. he didn't say to put him down. somewhere, buried beneath his blurriness, there's a subtle permission being given to keep on doing what he's doing. it charms genos; he's pleased to have the freedom to not need to treat sonic like a shard of broken glass, jagged and fragile. if he happens to, it's hardly a judgement of his condition, rather a means of expressing himself in the absence of having anything more appropriate to offer. there's time for that when their embers have cooled.

in the meanwhile, his grip adjusts, leaving one of his hands to meander, stretch and squeeze the pert globe he meets. he's had yet to give every inch of sonic the proper appreciation it's due, always settling for the slim body leeching warmth off of his, the casual drape of his limbs signalling he's been nominated as the footrest for the evening, and any quick kiss he can badger out of him, no matter how sumptuous or short-lived they may be.

it's different now. temporarily, perhaps, but different. there's no need to disguise the crackling purr in the bottom his throat at the discovery, gyrating his hips once he reaches a point where he can advance no further. ] You're filthy. [ an observation, not an insult, hooded eyes glued to how far the flush on sonic's skin is spreading. too much cloth is obstructing them; another thing they'll need to amend if this occurs again. ] We're even.

[ besides, he can't possibly mean it while getting fucked this sweetly. if there's one trait to glean from genos, he's a very fast learner. ]

[ fast learner? definitely. even sonic can see that now as he's gradually working himself back up from genos's handiwork.

too much stimulation will leave him bad-tempered and sour, but the pause gave way to a smoother transition, another start where there are no dangers to look out for at every corner. it's a refreshing change of pace, one where he feels much more confident in, a place he can thrive and not end up haphazardly shying away. with a renown force that's so very like him, sonic makes a move again, ready for round two: he won't be hard-pressed to keep some distance between them anymore, brushing off whatever strange mood overcame him, inching in closer and closer until his arms have finally, tightly encircled genos's neck. ]

Shut up. [ the grin he shines up at him when they're face to face is challenging, having been sparked back to life, back to his old self in no time flat.

a short nip to a rough pair of lips is all he'll get before sonic's dragging him in fully, slotting his mouth against genos's at long last. just like their reunion had been, there's nothing sweet in the kiss, not with the way he immediately deepens it once they've synced up, a merciless, relieved moan reverberating through him to finish.

everything's starting to come back to him now, feeling much more at ease, like he was before any of this ever happened. there's an enthusiasm there that mirrors his typical carefree self, shining through with how vocal he's becoming, more proactive in the way his body rides along with genos's drags, not just taking whatever he was dishing out. just initiating more and being there, not an onlooker to whatever point the cyborg was trying to make, the climax he wasn't seeking out for himself.

later on he'll take a moment to think about that, this situation as a whole. for now it pales in comparison to the gentle creaking of his friend's joints melded in with greedier slaps of wet skin on metal, wanting nothing more than to keep this going until one of them throws in the towel. ]

[ little does sonic know, he's showing off another uncharted piece of his person that genos finds absolutely enthralling. this energetic contender is a far superior specimen to the wailing mass he'd cornered previously. both have their high points, their lows, and genos will review them for their merits when he can. this too is something to treasure, less disturbed by the prospect than he ought to be.

he'd like to tell a tidbit of this to sonic if his mouth didn't have a prior commitment to maintain. these more closely resemble the luridly lewd flashes sonic used to lay on him, intrigued at how they aren't ceasing to be as soon as they appear on the scene, cracking wise the instant he considers pressing more. why are you holding out on me? we both know what you want—

but wait, he's not. he's plundering the man-made depths like nobody's business, all tongue and the occasional overenthusiastic crack of teeth that have genos's head rattling, making him want to fling sonic back and give him a solid scolding on how he knows better, what happened to all his finesse, this is no way for two people to kiss.

he won't. a single frustrated groan is what he solely receives for the trouble, separating noisily from him. plus, genos is well-acquainted with the power of obedience when the situation calls for it, willing not to speak until there's an actual need for it. instead, his features are petulant, waiting for the right interval to sweep his tongue over the crack in sonic's lip just so, the humid fog of his breath lingering after it, overheated once more.

now is when his cooling needs to be taking over, overriding it in favor of taunting sonic with it, remembering the effects it's had on him in the past. both of them can tell how worked up his bionic body, the squelching as they meet telling a full tale unto itself as he begins to leak and sputter again. but to see it—to witness the capabilities he's possessed all along, without any additional enhancements—is in a whole other league altogether. ]

Edited 2016-01-11 07:48 (UTC)

[ the steam is hot enough to stifle his breath, mouth parted open to accept the heat, the tongue that traces in its wake. genos is absolutely right: sonic adores listening to the fast whirring of abused fans in their valiant attempt to slow him down, cool off the otherwise overheated system. it's as close as they'd ever get to tiring out genos completely, no longer needing to worry about the type of exhaustion only humans concern themselves over. he’s not entirely alone in this phenomenon. sonic himself is a bundle of energy more often than not, always ready to push his body past the limit, test his abilities that nobody would second-guess in the slightest. still, for all of his superhuman capabilities, the ninja's still built of flesh and blood, will eventually be wrung dry of all that grand strength.

currently speaking, sonic doesn't have to do much of anything, does he? with the cyborg lunging into him, bearing the brunt of his mass, sonic might as well be inadvertently spoiled of his duties. their… companionship was always like this, usually taking more than he gives. he has an inkling that his toy is more than happy to adhere to sonic’s bratty demands, however, never hearing a lick of complaints from his comrade. it's probably what made it work so well, outside of the obvious reasons.

would anything have come of it if genos didn't throw a wrench in sonic’s ultimate plan to break him in two? what if he didn't even go through with the initial confrontation to begin with? he could have just let all of his conflicting feelings remain unresolved, disappear into the night and never return.

either would have been fine. sonic’s convinced of this. still, who would turn up their nose at the chance to be fucked up against a wall like this? maybe a good few that aren't quite as ambitious as sonic is, but that's part of his charm.

now that there's a pace set, a steady rhythm, he thinks it's fine to give genos permission to speak, crawling lean fingers up and up until they're latched onto the base of his neck. reels him in impossibly close, face pressed up against the torn shreds of a cheek before whispering: ] How does it feel? Being inside me? [ huffs it out softly, lowly, wrapping his lips around a pierced lobe, nipping at the rubbery skin to further goad him, wanting to hear all of his dirty little secrets. ]

Edited 2016-01-12 05:26 (UTC)

{ they weren't such easy demands to follow, not in the beginning. dealing with sonic originally felt like something of a chore to add to the daily list, feeling a certain obligation to keep him occupied as one might for a child, a field genos had little to no use of back then, nor now. any cries for attention or sustenance were solely delivered on so he'd stop yapping, hopefully go find someone else to pester instead of continuing to bark up the wrong tree.

something changed along the way. genos can't make heads or tails of when it did, and why. maybe because sonic never came across as an adoring fan—when he asked questions, they were on topics he genuinely wanted to know, albeit with a sprinkling of having something to hold over his head later on, for blackmail or just for the sake entertainment. and he'd open himself up to him, by degrees, whether he realized it or not: heaping his favorite time-wasters onto him, carelessly shrugging off the accusation of having a lingerie collection (genos has glimpsed it, there's no point in denying), lulling him to power down after a solid two hours with a slideshow of his cat in hundreds of different poses.

is it the same for him? it must be, on some level, if he gradually transitioned from stopping by on the pretenses to challenge saitama and play an invasive round of twenty questions to asking genos if he's eaten anything good recently, what's the biggest monster he's clobbered to date, and do you prefer it if the girls you go out with wear heels? oh, wait, you don't, who has time for that when you're pajama-footed egghead's whipping boy? the kick launched at him would've sent him sprawling a kilometer away if he hadn't merely somersaulted into the wind instead, cackling all the while.

he was maddening then, and he's maddening now, working genos till his breath catches, withholding some shameful in the back of his throat he doesn't want to have exposing him, not now, not so soon. this infuriating man really knows how to play him like a finely-tuned instrument, plucking all the right strings, so close to making him sing yet not quite wanting to give him the full satisfaction. he still feels a touch quarrelsome, but not enough to last, influence any real rage between them. that hatchet's buried; it won't be seen to again. ]

... [ it isn't another list he's wanting, is it? even genos knows this isn't a situation that calls for a top to bottom description of all his new functions, though he's positive sonic will want to find all of them out firsthand sooner or later. truth be told, the majority of his sensors are remaining on standby—try as he might, the influx of information, from tactile sensations to the incoming data on sonic himself (best left unmentioned), is almost more than he can stand. compared to this, combat is a very short, straightforward, back and forth affair. pain is manageable, reflexes can be hoped to a point razor-sharp enough to steer him clear of most major threats, and while the velocity of his fists striking true with flesh, metal, and beyond is satisfying, it's also short, doesn't weasel underneath his skin and circuitry the sonic does, leaving him quaking and senseless.

not having the tongue to try for all of that, the best he can do is aim for a different angle. ]

I wanted it for so long. Had to— [ he has to pause, exhale in a rush when sonic's blowing the wind out of his sails, and cooler air onto his earlobe. ] —had to get this stupid thing, just so I could—just once—...

[ that's just for starts, the tip of an iceberg stretching for miles on end. he has to take a further break when sinking deeply into sonic, holding himself there, resorting to a renewed series of thrusts which barely take him out before plunging back in short succession. he refuses to stand there seated in him motionlessly, not wishing to get called out again on being such a hapless little virgin who can't make good on his promises of fucking his partner raw. he's still learning what makes both of them tick, but he's up to the task, heavy arms constricting around sonic tighter and tighter. ]

[ for sonic's side of the story, it's a lot more complicated than just that. even he hasn't properly figured it out, still missing a few pieces to the puzzle so he can study the entire picture, go from there when the stars align.

revisiting genos so many times wasn't entirely planned, nor did he want to continue doing it with the goal of seeking out the cyborg's company. it was a passing fancy at best, a means of entertainment when the downtime came between jobs, liking the irritation he saw, the begrudging compliance thereafter.

something definitely changed after his frequent visits, but pinpointing when the shift happened is next to impossible. it just naturally happened, really, a small change to his weekly routine which soon turned into something bigger, something more permanent. bugging the hero was more than just interesting, leveling up to a strange desire to learn about genos, to be around him, to hear him walk and see him talk and everything inbetween. that didn't frighten sonic any, not at the start, because who wouldn't be fascinated by something like him?

having it all go downhill was the problem. sonic invested too much time and effort into the kid, built up some fondness without even realizing it. sonic swears up and down that the first night of intimacy was a fever dream and nothing more, but when he woke up to the telltale sounds of genos, not silence, not the voice of someone foreign, something told him that there was no going back.

sonic is stubborn at heart, though. he always has been, always will be. to be obedient even to himself is a contradiction, heavily laced with double-meaning, an inner battle that has no end in sight. will it stop now that their differences have been temporarily set aside? there's no way to tell, not when he's such an enigma, so shrouded in mysteries even he can't make heads or tails of. that's what landed him in this predicament to begin with, after all, and if there's at least one thing sonic's sure of, it's that this won't be the last time it happens... whatever it is, this thing he continues to struggle with that hasn't been given a name quite yet.

that's fine. now that there's an unspoken truce here, it'll make it easier for sonic to dig through the mass of emotions, relying on the physical aspect of their coupling to rid himself of any frustrations along the way. making it much easier for himself is always the plan, undecided if he would do the same for genos, too, if the time comes for him to need the same.

none of that needs to be figured out when there's a thick cock buried deep within him. all of those senses are numb, besides, stopping short of doing that thinking thing again to instead get lost in his pleasure, the sound of a staticy voice struggling to express himself. ]

Hah—? So you could what? [ releases the grip he had on genos's ear in favor of diving his nose further into the strong, taunt wires tracing his exposed neck, practically vibrating from head to toe in one long shiver. ] Fuck me like I told you to? That's—haha, that's good...

[ it is good, almost too good, toes curling against the currant of well-timed thrusts. some praise will be in order after all of this is finished, sonic blearily thinks, a grin plastered on his face all the while. ]

[ if the audiovisual feedback he's receiving is accurate, this is affecting more than just genos, isn't it? he's a little proud of that one, not necessarily arriving here with the intention of driving his friend up the wall—in more ways than one—but happy for the boost in his ego all the same. he'll have a lot to live up for the next one. fortunately for him, with more material to draw from, he'll be able to modify his techniques and utilize them accordingly. while it won't be as big of a surprise to see sonic squirm, then, there'll still be some satisfaction to take away from it. it'll do. ]

What...? [ sonic's so vain. just because he's the catalyst for convincing dr. kuseno to bestow upon him the most needless of cybernetic enhancements doesn't mean...doesn't mean... ] I could already fuck you.

[ he grows more hoarse at the memory, though the nose seeking him out so softly, so close to raw, sizzling wiring isn't helping matters much. what starts as laughter ends in a rough, unfinished moan, both hands seizing sonic's ass now, spreading him wide. he's feeling around for where he's stretched around his cock, inching out until the tip's barely pressed inside, molten metal digits flitting across the hypersensitive pucker of his flesh. there's no telling if he knows exactly what he's doing or not. he might. ]

This is for me. [ and it is: it's a strictly selfish thing, to recapture that part of his human essence, to give the same basic bedroom performance any other person could if they so desired. it's not about feeling inadequate, that he didn't have enough to offer sonic already. it's about wanting to follow through on the phantom aching in his groin so much as anytime sonic bends over for the remote control, perches on the balcony railing with his knees open for all the world to see, or pats genos's head a millisecond too long, fingers furling through his shortened hair.

he wanted to know if he ever could have that function sonic used to joke to him about. now he does, advancing without any shame, every lightly-grooved inch deliberately dragging back into sonic at a snail's pace as he reenters. ]

[ from his response, sonic has every right to laugh, though whether it's out of delight or a jab at him would be unknown. the sound is interrupted when genos deliberately drags out his return, breathing out roughly against his neck. ]

Selfish and unpleasant— [ huffs out in pleasure before he's moving again, slipping under the shirt hanging off genos's metal form. sonic digs long digits into the seams of armor, where it's the hottest, right where a pair of shoulder blades would be. ] You live up to your name.

[ it serves more in sonic's favor, anyway. while he tends to enjoy things being done for him, with him in mind, this method of selfishness is something he's all too familiar with, a comfort he's willing to accept at face value. if that's the case, then this makes everything so much more simple, fascinatingly so.

once he's filled to the brim again, he does some moaning of his own, a whine laced with unconstrained mirth. ]

You would stick it inside anyone at this point, wouldn't you? [ his voice is shaky now, grinning ear to ear, so agonizingly overwhelmed. grinds the tips of his fingers further inside, relishing in the way it burns into hypersensitive flesh. there will probably be marks there later, but he doesn't care right now, retreating back a fraction to simply grip at the plating. ] Definitely a pervert...

[ one step forward, two steps back. despite being able to see through the ploy--a jeer for sonic's amusement, or maybe something to make him speed up, move a little rougher for him--genos can't stifle the surge of irritation within him. how many ways can he get his point across without beating it into the ground? the possibilities are endless, apparently, since he's refusing to absorb any of it.

the look of indifference on his face shows he's none too impressed with the outburst. a thin sigh of exasperation is sonic's only warning before a firm, contoured palm slaps him squarely across the ass, somewhat appeased by the sound that rings out. ] You're a brat. [ the same hand soothes him thereafter, light caresses over the reddened, stinging cheeks. genos then uses his grasp on both hips to maneuver him until he's seated fully...and comes to a complete stop altogether.

on such short notice, he has no other means of retaliation. ]

Why would I pick up some floozy when I already have you...? [ what else is he supposed to do? scowling, he nudges against the side of sonic's face, seeking him out to nip him once below his ear. he continues gentling him with his hands, a kindness sweeter than the situation warrants as his hands slide up, smoothing over sonic's back before both arms lock snugly around him again. ]

[ the pain registers immediately, crying out in surprise. well that was unexpected, looking a tad disheveled thereafter, a little glad that genos can't currently see his face.

did that somehow rub him the wrong way? sonic doesn't particularly care, not when he got something good from it (he's a bit of a masochist, who cares), a catalyst to his softened shaft rising to attention once more. it's only half-mast for the time being, still too soon to have all of his blood rushing southbound. he's no longer an eager teenager with hormones on the rampage, or a cyborg with no need to soften and wilt, wait it out until a stirring of arousal is ready to emerge.

then again, if genos keeps at it, grab and nip at him like so, there's no telling what will happen. for now he's content with the first strike, shivering through his confusion on why it's necessary for his attacker to cease that type of play, flee away to safer pastures. ]

Are you calling me a whore? [ that's not what he means at all and sonic knows it. maybe there is something to say about him being a brat after all. ] I guess that's accurate.

[ no matter. if genos won't go ahead and take another dive (or two, or three…) then it's sonic who will do the work, start it up again. with metal arms encasing him, it gives way to more movement on his end, rotating his hips into a slow grind, teasing and testing his range of motion with a rough puff of a sigh. just a small amount of friction is all he needs, a temporary form of relief. ]

Edited 2016-01-13 03:08 (UTC)