destinytown | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ 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! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ having a filter isn't necessarily on sonic's side, either. given the way he's expressing himself—more open and honest, less harsh around the edges—it's safe to say that both of their walls are down, however temporary they might be. it could last a few minutes, an hour... who can tell? besides, sonic's silly with sleep tugging at him, willing the drugged ninja back into its clutches. until that time comes, he'll probably stay on this path towards whatever becomes of the sluggish, drowsy encounter.

oh, is genos finally going to talk? that tickles him, too, a low noise reverberating in the back of his throat. ]

You could more often. [ a pregnant pause leads delicate fingers to trace the sides of an equally tired face, keeping them where they land. nips at his bottom lip, a long and slow motion, catching on his teeth when he pulls back a fraction. ] If you want.

[ even now he has to be cheeky, but that's not all there is to it, showing from the calm ease of his eyes, a lighter, more airy smile. ]

[ there's no concealing the sound fleeing from his parted lips in turn, a little bemused, a little impressed at sonic's boldness, mimicking words that were said to him before. genos remembers, hasn't forgotten a single detail from the moment sonic had swooped down from the rooftop, all false smiles and restless energy.

he's growing restless now, just lightly, a leg hooking over a more seamless, flesh and blood one, drawing sonic a smidgen closer to him. ]

How often...? [ the words aren't scrutinized as they leave genos's mouth. that requires thought beyond his current capacity, wanting nothing more than sonic on him telling him all the things he wants to hear. this half-awake, subdued side of the man is definitely winning points in his favor, though he'd gladly take him at any time of the day, for what it's worth. ]

[ beyond all the other reasons he refused to invite people to lay and rest with him, this is definitely one of the higher ranking concerns he has; being soft and honest doesn't come naturally to sonic, never a person that can dish out more tender displays. it's different when he's still burdened with fatigue, haphazardly spilling nonsense he'd never tell with his usual blunt, careless words. not that he'd ever felt attached to another person before, willing to admit this to himself due to how everything is blending in together to create the display genos is gazing upon.

another kiss is planted at the corner of his mouth, leaving a trail in its wake when he moves to murmur into his ear: ] As often as you wish.

[ at least that's a claim sonic won't smack his forehead over come morning. genos is more than welcome to grace his presence whenever he'd like, saying not a word about him visiting when he had disappeared off the face of the planet. even if it hasn't been admitted outright, sonic knows, could tell the moment they stepped inside his apartment, by the way his cat greeted the cyborg outright. ]

[ it isn't as though sonic's promising him the moon, only to place a pebble in the palm of his hand later on and say it's obviously a space rock, what did you think he was referring to?

indefinitely sounds like a good amount to genos, who decides it's something better left unsaid when he has sonic in his entirety to concentrate on. the cables and components of his artificial vocal chords thrum in agreement, currently seeing nothing wrong whatsoever with loitering here, always, preferably right in this very spot. preferably with this person continuing to climb his body, unfazed at the breath ghosting along vital sensors that haven't yet reached their full potential. genos is as dull and drowsy as any other person who could still use short span of more sleep. he blames the exertion of the previous day, and no trip to kuseno's lab to recalibrate himself correctly.

ah, that's going to put a damper in his plans. he'll have to go there, which means he can't be here, which means having to keep his hands off of sonic...

it's a very unappealing proposition. flattening his other hand to the small of sonic's is better, and angling his head to get a noisy whiff of dark, flattened hair and the flaring pulse point under his jaw is best. ] ...you smell so good. [ he should buy soap later, ask sonic about the specific products so he can recreate the real thing and stop being so haunted with it in his downtime. ]

[ having a nose nudge about in very sensitive areas grants a different response, shuddering down his spine and to the small of his back, right where a hand has planted itself.

a grip to metal shoulders is all he can properly do in this position, curling impressively long fingers around the domes attached at the ends. that delicious, warm rush channels a path through him, canting his head to the side to expose himself further, loosely recalling how great it felt when genos's lips and teeth were latching onto him. to an extent he was distantly fond of a palm constricting against his windpipe, too, though those are thoughts that can be left at a later time, floating away as easily as a cloud.

like all the other nonsense they've shown in the wee hours of the morning, the short stretch of night, sonic will allow the flow of the moment take over, give in to any strange desires he'd only briefly thought about in passing.

the show of affection isn't simply pushed aside this time, accepting it with open arms in spite of the very small, very faint voice in the back of his head that's telling him to stop, this isn't right, it isn't like him. though unlike the other times, it lacks the feeling of discomfort, of awkwardness, and the subtle urge to distance himself. so why not give in, even if it's only once in an act of delirium?

that sounds good. that sounds fine, going further when a limb reaches up to curl around genos's head, resting dead weight on the pillow it finds there. what follows is a leg sweeping to the side, off of the cold, hard one below, hips and thighs opening up to better accommodate them both. sooner or later he'll have to move back to softer surfaces, not entirely comfortable any longer where he lays. until then he'll endure it, murmuring something close to more, shifting his bottom half in a smooth half-circle. ]

[ what exactly are they doing here? this is vastly different from their usual activities; it isn't fed by adrenaline or anger, isn't propelled by desperation and the stark need to feel the rush of blood and a fevered expanse of skin to confirm someone is alive and whole. an affectionate undercurrent runs here, deeper than it would be in the daytime, when they're out in the street, when they're masquerading as an s-class hero and a haughty, highly skilled villain who'd like nothing more than to slice each other to ribbons rather than continue their fast friendship.

genos isn't disturbed by it. he doesn't feel much of anything at all past his basic, tactile senses, more alive now than ever before. a blatant invitation has been opened up to him, and he'd be a fool not to take it, chide sonic for acting so scandalously and roll over to resume sleeping. besides, his bare, featureless pelvis is currently trapped as it is, in no condition to be utilizing a great amount of effort to twist out from underneath sonic. nor can he just ignore him, knowing in the worst case scenario it would lead to petulant whining and a whole score of tugging at his ears, at his makeshift bandages to annoy him.

he doesn't want that. he'd like to see all the ways sonic can move, now that he isn't trapped against an unyielding concrete wall or sprawled out flushed and prone in the middle of the floor. genos graces him with a drowsily-uttered equivalent of an as you wish, affixing to the unbruised side of his neck in an open-mouthed kiss that temporarily quells his desire to seek out more of the scent clinging to him. he remembers, too, the enthusiastic welcome he was met with when painfully-accurate artificial lips, teeth and tongue embarked on a journey down his throat, over his chest, and beyond. this is material he's studied tirelessly, requiring more research on the right points to hit, the erogenous zones that'll make him sing out the loudest.

unbeknownst to genos, the prospect has him trembling a little, or maybe it's just the hard-wired response to having a warm and willing person in his arms that sends want shooting down his spinal cord, heating up with energy against his will. how absurd—sonic's done nothing more than squirm onto him a bit, plant dry closed kisses on him with no real destination in mind, reveal a canvas for him to paint with his tongue as it lays flat in small licks, sloppy kisses that steer him to the bend by his shoulder where he takes a short pause, breathes hard.

his left hand is inclined to venture farther, curving over the swell of sonic's rump to rest there and do no more. there's a distant, concerned thought that this probably isn't the most ideal place for him to be resting, wondering how he managed to find himself laying astride a hard metal body to begin with. the sight of him there may be engaging, but his comfort is the more important of the two. he'll make a note to move in a moment, when he's ready, deposit him in the bed where he belongs so it'll be easier on him. ]

[ whether or not they move is of no real concern to sonic. sure, he's not in the most ideal position, not when sharp hipbones protrude against sheets of steel, all of his edges grinding into genos's own. this still doesn't will him to turn away, flop backwards and lay there like a limp, dead fish just to relieve some of the ache. a little pain never hurt anyone, certainly not speed of sound sonic, where this pales in comparison to so many other worse things that have come to pass. it certainly can't hold a candle to the hard fuck they had against a wall earlier, lost in the throes of passion to calculate and move about as they saw fit to do.

not that it doesn't sound good to reenact the scene here, either. the mood is much less intense, however, a keen longing carrying sonic along without heeding to all the carnal instincts, ones he never has any qualms in showing. once-unforgiving fingers thread straight into genos's hair, holding him there as he explores the deft bend above his collar. there are already blemishes punctured skin-deep in the surrounding area, but sonic's appetite for more overrides the logical side of things, how it's going to be annoying to cover them up, loathing obnoxious staring that has nothing to do with how he looks or dresses. sure, one of many scarves will do just the trick, but that's a boring means of shielding what's been willingly inflicted upon him.

tomorrow's sonic can deal with it. the sonic of the now sighs out instead, trails his free hand down the stretch of a cybernetic body, tracing the finer detailing at his side. his fists have seen more than a fever-induced, glassy gaze has, reminded of such when his thumb sweeps across a makeshift bandage, almost chuckling from the realization that it's right where the newest scar blistered on sonic's skin, the cut at his side adding on to the array of scars across his figure. no permanent blemishes will mar genos's robotic body, but it's still amusing to think about the irony of it all.

sonic wishes he could be closer to him; it's a sudden, ridiculous want. they're practically melting into each other right now, pressed from head to toe with no real space to accompany them. still, it makes so much more sense to have his other leg straddle around the opposite side, careful when he slips out from under the one trapping him there. the new change doesn't make him any less sore, less of his weight being distributed in all the right places. no complaints will be otherwise heard, a low moan replacing any irritated groaning he'd normally make, although it could be from the press of thin lace against his sweltering groin, the palm that grips him on the other side. ]

[ he doesn't need a scanner to show him all the telltale signs of arousal that are starting to form. what astounds him is how this is seemingly happening of its own accord—genos isn't egging sonic on, isn't actively teasing him with any form of tantalizing touches past the set of lips casually trailing back up behind his ear, and even then he wouldn't think it's prompting such a rapid response out of him. perhaps sonic is easier to turn on than he first suspected, like flipping on a lightswitch, putting a key into the car for ignition.

of course, there's a shred of suspicion it could have something to do with him, just being here, equally receptive to whatever it is sonic's intending to achieve in the early morning light. he's not so conceited, however, to immediately jump to the conclusion. the sonic of right now might not be the sonic in an hour or two who's probably going to laugh at his boyish enthusiasm to participate, scathingly explain it's only happening because it's convenient, what a great way to wake up with his toy, nothing more.

or perhaps the sincerity will linger after sunrise, and he'll finally see what genos has tried to all but shout at him outright for weeks, ever since he stained his hands and wasted most of the first aid supplies in his home and nearly tripped over that darn cat twelve times, refusing to get out of the way when she didn't need to be there. it's possible. anything is possible when it feels a long, drawn-out dream, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

there's only one downside here. cloth chafes against his armor, obstructs him proceeding down sonic's sternum and the rest of his body, unable to let his fingertips play along gooseflesh and blemishes like sonic can, admiring the view of pale limbs contrasting sharply against darker alloy. ] Why are you dressed...? [ it emerges breathily, innocently, puzzled as to how the guy was able to spend all night in such a state when he's had a cyborg stripped bare beside him the entire duration. he doesn't remember why he didn't just pull his old outfit back on. probably since there's no point, nothing of real interest when it's primarily metal plates, connective wires, and crudely synthetic representations of musculature on display. what's attractive about that? ]

[ what will the day bring? even sonic can't tell, neither a mindreader or curious enough to really question it all that much. he's done enough of that in the passing weeks they've spent around each other, increasing with every encounter they'd shared. it digs into his very core on some days, leaves a miserable compulsion that wracks him for hours on end. mostly it tends to be an annoyance, having to pause when the guy's face pops to the forefront of his thoughts, has to cease in his latest kill to properly right himself before going back to whatever bloody mess he agreed to follow through with.

at least it's easier now to not fall back on bad habits. sonic will either pretend it never happened, nudge and tease at genos for going along with it, be his usual obnoxious self... or he'll uncharacteristically sputter through acceptance, express himself as he turns a furious shade of red all over, a begrudging sort of admission to the strange emotions he's so unused to. whatever the case will be, this too can be left for when they're fully recharged.

the question is met with a resounding kiss, opting not to speak. if he did, there's a high chance the magic would be gone, a slip of the tongue that has nowhere to go but air that's heavy with want. the initial gesture doesn't last long, lingering for a very small handful of seconds before sonic's pulling back, short hair dusting genos's cheeks as he ascends further still. here's where he'll elongate his body, curving until he's fully seated. a lazy smile is all the trouble he'll give the s-class hero, a hand resting by his head soothing the patch stuck to his jawline on its path to a flimsy shirt, languidly hooking underneath the cloth before ever-so slowly tugging it upward.

sonic means to drag this out, put himself on display for genos even more than before. there's something distinctly different about the way he does it—there's no smugness involved, no wide, cheshire-like smile practically cracking at the seams. it's actually done with him in mind, not the other way around, a rare example of any consideration he'd willingly shower on another person. such is the mood they've tangled themselves up in, advancing in a tantalizingly slow pace, even when the offending item has been removed, dropped somewhere on the plush surface of his mattress. now is when he'll offer a loose grin, covering those teeth not a moment too soon so he can swoop down, sealing their mouths together in one fluent motion. ]

[ oh. has he caught on in the short amount of time they've spent together to how much genos enjoys watching him? he must, if he's in no hurry to free himself of his offensive shirt, allowing genos to get a good look at the straight lean line of his torso. he's lucky there's no blood to pump vigorously through his frame, or it'd all be careening elsewhere in a dizzying heartbeat right about now.

there are numerous praises stuck to his tongue, unwilling to put them out there when sonic's practically robbing him of breath. what happened? the tables are turned here and he doesn't have a clue of how to deal with it. he's too tired, too entranced to really care, so long as they proceed with minimal interruptions. he isn't disappointed in the slightest when sonic returns to claim him, filing the view away in a private section of his interface to be revisited at a later date. his mouth's regained some of the skill he's more used to him displaying, sighing out as each subsequent kiss pries him open a little more, and more, until grazing the healing split on his bottom lip with his tongue is all but unavoidable, hungry sounds betraying his outward serenity.

he's overcome with heat, shuffling around on the pretense of trying to find more circulation as he tries to gently tip sonic over, away from his metallic bulk and closer to the soft, thin sheets still encasing them. here genos can pull sonic to him, eliminating as much renewed distance as he feasibly can. every movement remains slow and subdued on his end, always stopping between a string of kisses to breathe nonsense into the man's skin, barely-audible admissions of how fantastic he feels when he's palming up his back, between his shoulderblades, over a leg he's wedging open with a broader thigh and onto his buttocks to lightly squeeze and hold them there. for a dangerous second he forgets to stay away from his hair, the base of his skull as he'd been viciously warned, and his fingers twitch before retreating.

that's off-limits. he knows, he understands, chest pressing flush to sonic's in a mute apology. ]

[ if sonic had half of his usual wits about him, he'd probably go and do some praising of his own. genos has made leaps and bounds compared to when they first started, idly wondering if it's from the minimal, firsthand practice, or the undoubtedly large amount of visuals—snippets of text, a less glaringly fake form of images at his disposal—he has stored in his memory. none of that is particularly important, but a very small, very tiny fraction of sonic hopes it's mostly due to what he's tried to lewdly teach him, or at least have those moments lead him in the right direction. this doesn't come from wanting to be the best, to always be number one in any given light, borne from something much deeper than that.

which is why it's so easy for sonic to brush off the blunder. he can't really find it in him to get so worked up, anyway, not when those same hands are making a journey across his body, a tighter hold to follow. the only heat coming from him radiates off of his body, lost in the very brief flash of friction against a metal leg. a relieved moan cuts through the otherwise silent atmosphere, matched against any murmuring genos makes, the shift and slide of bedding encasing intricate mechanics and contrasting flesh and blood.

he likes his voice, sonic's decided, likes the way it dips and deepens when they're like this. was it calibrated exactly how he would have sounded if he were still fully human? sonic doesn't understand all of the finer details surrounding how genos came to be, but he's still curious to learn, due more to a sincere interest for both their sake and not just because he's eager to absorb what makes him tick, tuck it away for later usage. perhaps one day he can see this good doctor for himself, poke and pry into secrets and technicalities that will still soar over his head.

is that also too intimate, too forward, too personal? probably. the villain can't be sure.

what he is sure of is that he wants more, always more, never getting enough to fully satisfy a hunger that's settled in for the remainder of the hour. tired of sounding like a broken record, sonic goes in to press lips at the hidden tear on genos's throat instead, another one just above it, a slightly warped strip burned into his chin. this is the most he can do for now, unwilling to fully forgive and forget, even in his half-asleep state. a tender display is the best way to show the minuscule amount of apologies he might or might not have for the destructive hurricane that was his fury; perhaps it's a reassurance, too, a way of thanks for keeping his word, actually heed to the warning that anyone else would overlook, push their boundaries until they're a beaten pulp on the ground. ]

[ they're nice gestures—very nice, if the muted glow to him has anything to say about it—but they aren't wholly necessary. holding a grudge against sonic for the things he's done would be like scolding the family pet for something it's naturally inclined to do, not knowing any better. genos can't begin to fathom how or why he was driven to the depths he was, seeing no reason to sit and stew over what can't be changed, what can't be rescinded between them.

being so smitten with him probably influences the feeling to a degree. if it makes him feel better, he can thrash him as a cybernetic punching bag all he wants.

keeping that in mind, one of his hand bids a hasty withdrawal from its post, lightly plastering itself to the surface of sonic's cheek instead, briefly stalled by the color staining it, the warmth it contains. ] It's fine. [ their foreheads touch, the spun gold of his eyelashes fanning as they lower shut, nuzzling into the man to pepper small kisses under his eyes, the bridge of his nose, under his chin. ] I'm fine. [ more than fine; genos whispers this over his lips, offering the slightest brush before they're pressed back together in a long, resplendent motion.

it's at odds with the way his other hand's encouraging him to rock forward on his thigh, late to acknowledge the sheer material that's trapping him. so the snippets of the collection he saw weren't just for show...this is the first time he's seen sonic in his unmentionables, only otherwise treated to the shortest pairs of shorts on him which never left anything to his imagination. considering that causes his temperature to spike, partially embarrassed by the wisps of hot air struggling to escape his body. that really needs to be modified, he can do better... ]

[ shying away from such blinding adoration is a typical response he'd portray on any given day, maybe go so far as to flinch and jerk away swiftly, unnecessarily bark out in offense. then why is it so different when genos is doing it, when they're wrapped up in the throes of a milder form of passion? it strikes somewhere near his heart, a twinge that definitely has to do with the flush splayed underneath the firm press placed against one cheek.

sonic's not back to his natural state, not just yet, sedated into compliance from the hero's words, their interlocked lips moving in a dance they're both getting more used to, and also... ]

Ha— [ the sound that comes out of his mouth is an octave higher than before, taken back when he's guided, sliding against a firmness that's so damn delectable. for some reason he's stopping himself after another roll or two of his hips, keeping himself firm and steady for a beat. bruising his inner thighs to ride out his own pleasure is typical, natural, and so very like sonic to do. he's determined to try something new, however, clutching onto genos's back to cease any further movement, limbs shaking from the effort.

perhaps this is due to being oversensitive, easily able to reach his peak if he's rubbed at in just the right way early in the day. that's just how it is for most people, sonic thinks, uncaring as long as he gets off, finds a release that has nothing to do with the thrill of crushing another person with his bare hands.

one of those deadly appendages are on the move, twisting at the wrist to easily wedge betwixt what's going on down below. slim fingers press up against the plate storing genos's newest addition to his person, wondering if lining the very top of the panel with blunt nails will hail what he wants to become more familiar with. the mechanics, as usual, are lost on him, but sonic won't know if he doesn't try, doesn't take matters literally into his own hands. ]

[ how unusual of him. here genos expected he'd continue to rut and press until he was ready to get somewhere else, ideally with his undergarment gone and flung across the room to parts unknown. nonetheless, he'll respect sonic's silent wish, moving him no further when he comes to a standstill. his fingertips stroke his hip and the bend of his waist to steady him, as well as to selfishly feel each muscle flex and strain, pleased at his anatomy.

unfortunately, it takes more than the push of a button or an inquisitive prick at his seams to bring forth the latest piece of his hardware. a confused moan drags him away an inch or two, brows furrowed when he can't quite pick up on what sonic's trying to do. ]

...? [ ah. is he really wanting to see it again so soon? genos wasn't planning a repeat performance anytime soon after the first happy accident of it, but if sonic's so curious, who is he to deny him what he wants? a manual release is required in his chassis before he comically extends, as rigid and lengthy as he'd been from the initial reveal. ] Did you want this—?

[ he's not being condescending, a serious tone intermingling with his lowered voice. he flattens to sonic's belly, hot and catching as he unintentionally grinds up to situate himself. now in better control of the sensitivity, which sensations to concentrate on and which to black out so he doesn't short so quickly, it's no problem to lie with sonic, let him take his fill of an apparatus he still isn't one hundred percent acquainted with, not in the manner he'd probably like to be. ]

[ hums lazily, mouthing against him: ] I want to feel you, too.

[ genos isn't alone in his wish to navigate every inch of their bedmate. since sonic's so out in the open, easily accessible in every form possible, isn't it only fair that genos is, too? he whispers such against the rubbery jut of his bottom lip, sharing breathing space while he explores the length sticking to his stomach, exhaling out shakily.

now that he's broken his silent streak, it's only fair to keep on going; the manner of speech isn't quite that similar to how he addresses a conversation, rambling on and on at a person, ignoring the very fundamentals of conversing, the give and take it requires. not that sonic is really grasping for some kind of meaningful talk, still walking side by side with the sleep heavy on his lids. so he'll have to be forgiven for not sounding like himself, a soft longing saturating everything he wants to say—how he liked the way he fit so perfectly inside him, hoping that one day he'll fill him further, wanting nothing more than to be left reeling from the heat.

for as dirty as these statements should be coming off, there's no real hint of raw, unbridled seduction there, burying and nuzzling at genos in as much needy affection that he can give. didn't he want to hear him, once upon a time? maybe not in the same fashion, but given how gentle a demon cyborg like himself can be, sonic knows for a fact that it's a fair trade-off. ]

[ from genos's point of view, it seems like a dialogue he doesn't really have to be participating in. if sonic wants to ramble on, he's more than welcome to; he'll be listened to attentively, humming out wordlessly at each and every idea on his mind, taking no issues with bringing them to life. he soaks up the appreciation, the core of him growling louder and hotter than ever before.

for someone who's not purposely attempting to seduce him, it sure is working.

stretching, sighing, sonic's cyborg shifts to lay flat against the mattress again, legs spread, pulling him along for the ride. another kiss is inevitable, sidetracked from his goal when it turns into a long press that finishes in a soft, wet bite to his lips. he too isn't trying to be deliberately alluring when he points out: ] Then you should take what's yours.

[ why not? genos said he hadn't acquired this for him specifically, but there's no denying who the inspiration was to obtain it in the first place. having a partially-functioning dick in his possession was never about fighting crime, seeking vengeance, or emulating his lost youth as closely as he could. it's clearly about capturing the most authentic experience with sonic as he can, uninterested in the ability to seek his pleasure through alternative, creative means when a far more direct method isn't so unobtainable.

someday, in the near future, they may be worth visiting when they both have a spare evening, a few hours to kill. for now he's content with this, especially since the majority of his functions have now been fully tested and used to their greatest potential. ]

[ oh, right. genos did say something like that before, albeit in another way entirely.

that's fine. it's pleasing to hear it come straight from the horse's mouth instead of a rowdier, less obedient one. the return to how they previously laid isn't what he had been anticipating, but it's still good, appreciating the reigns temporarily being taken from him, shuffling long legs about until he's got genos trapped. what he really wants to do can't be accomplished if he's back to resting against the entirety of his man-made, cabled and wired body, propping his front up by using his heated chest as a perch for his forearms.

seeing the light puffs of steam and those eyes piercing the darkness surrounding them has him coming to a stop, putting a hold on whatever he had planned. with some of his consciousness returned, sonic can now get a better look at his face, taking note how his irises are crafted differently, a strange likeness to what lies beyond the screen of his phone, or the laptop he doesn't use all that much. enhanced vision aside, it serves to remind sonic of his lack of organic structure, if the mass of his body didn't say enough already. this is different, somehow, just another thing on his endless list of knowledge he hopes to acquire in the future.

in the here and now, those questions will have to be saved, stored back and out of the way. shutting his lids, the dark-haired man reconnects them, a deeper kiss that won't be as drawn-out as the last one. no, sonic has better ideas, first craning his neck up, his sternum to follow, palms flat against impossibly hot plates. using this as a means of balance, he trusts his strength enough for him to remove one of his hands, blindly reach behind himself to a stiff rod poking against his rear. finding it with little trouble, he guides it flush against the cleft of his ass, right up to the mesh netting clinging to his form.

it would be so easy to just pull aside lacy underwear, work him inside after he's oozed out more than enough lubricant to ensure a smooth entry. for now he refrains from outright initiating it, rocking back into the firmness pressed there with the help of a loose half-grip instead. this is an attempt to have genos's cock feel more than just skin, adjust to sensations that he'd otherwise never feel without sonic's persistence. for now he'll ignore the uncomfortable strain tenting at the front of his pelvis, explore the ridges lining every inch of his arousal.

sure, it's nice to look at, but even sonic can openly welcome a stimulation that's not brought on by a perceptive gaze. ]

[ leave it to the speed of sound ninja to take something genos barely hinted at and run wild with it. optimistically he'd anticipated a sure, unerring hand in the dimness of the room and little else. narrowed eyes are glued to his shape while he climbs aboard, sinks down.

this is a new texture, different from the padding on the palms of his hands, from sonic's (which he's had minimal exposure to), and the unbelievably tight furnace inside of his body. the closest comparison is being caged inside of yesterday's jeans, and even then it's not quite the same. he can't tell if it's pleasant or not, partially wishing they'd skip the preliminaries and get on with what they're here for, while at the same time wanting to investigate this further, see how deeply it can affect sonic.

the more he thinks about it, the more interesting it sounds. genos can play this game, letting his hands be his guide as they cling on to the slight flare of his waistline, thumbs digging in to the indentations of his hipbones, moving him to and fro in a slow glide.

he doesn't know where to look, as drawn to the flutter of sonic's eyelids and the upward twitch to his lips as he is to the definition of his abdominal muscles and the prominent bulge wrapped up in lace. admittedly his gaze lingers on that one the longest, wetting his lips and taking to account all the possibilities lined for up for them. with weariness grounding his judgement, the thoughts won't go very far, realigning himself to the shadowed contours of sonic's face, blinking slowly up at him with a stuttered breath. ]

[ cutting right to the chase would be all well and good, yet a selfish urge propels him to linger, draw it out without a frenzied vigor like before. not that he thinks either of them will last, the damp moister beading underneath thin silk already making that quite clear.

sonic doesn't mean to continue this way forever, not really, twitching with want way faster than anticipated. a shaky intake of breath and a glide back and forth breaks his resolve, head hanging to shield himself with the limited curtain of hair at his disposal. that loss comes and goes with more frequency, surprised for reasons he can't muster up the strength to say when they're finished, like how he's further turned on by the prospect of genos wrapping steely fingers into the dark mess, tug at the strands, or just hold him in place, if he feels like it.

that's good material for another time. unfortunately he's... a bit abashed from being unable to hold out, gaze averting away from his friend. oh well, he'll have many more chances in the future.

a trickle sliding down the underside of the shaft caught between a circle of fingers is a rousing sensation, marking the slow descent of his underwear, awkwardly pulling and dragging it away with some miracle. he's no stranger to making things work in his favor, simply nestling a bunch of taunt fabric past what it's obstructing, going further still until the entire girth of genos's cock can now freely slip against the gap presented to him, a means to coat the outside of his entrance while also offering them both a more familiar form of friction. ]

[ he really does want this. it was difficult to determine whether or not it'd been a fluke, before; that accepting genos was merely the byproduct of having nowhere else to go at the time, needing a catharsis for his frustrations, and seizing the first opportunity that arose in the form of a good solid fucking. the fact he'd teased genos with the promise of a next time doesn't factor into it, knowing that could easily just be a tease he never intended to follow through on, simply needing the right ammunition to use to get underneath his skin and stay there.

it's starting to dawn on him that maybe it isn't a joke. maybe he's dead serious on how satisfying it was to have genos inside, how perfect the stretch and fill of him is, how he needs as much of him as he can give, bionic dick and all. it's starting to dawn on him, with the clarity only a good night's sleep and the refining of his meaty brain can provide, that maybe this was why he bolted, this was why he raged. there could be any number of other reasons, it's one theory out of a dozen he's come up with in the past twelve hours and fifty-eight minutes.

but never mind the motives for the moment. there's a small show happening in front of him, and he'd be crazy to miss out on a second of it, his sensors torn between sight, sound, and touch. touch primarily wins over the two for its sheer exclusivity—he's heard the variety of ways sonic's breathing can hitch already, recorded and tucked away in his archives for personal use at a later date. and he's seen him in a multitude of positions now, various of undress, various poses for him to memorize and savor. to feel him, however, especially when the crease of his cheeks is smooth and yielding enough to make his cock drool excessively of its own free will, is nothing short of phenomenal.

his expression, in contrast, doesn't give much away. it's a stone-cold mask, cheeks dusted with pink right around the edges, yet holding no other indicators of excitement. his hands knead at sonic, continue to encourage him up and down his leaking length, catching at his hole just once, then slipping away to start the process anew. each pass draws a tighter breath from him, exhaling steam from the side of his mouth when the buildup is more than he can stand. they're both on the same page as far as prolonging this is concerned, and a masochistic part of him wants to see who's going to end up bending first. ]

[ wouldn't it be funny to know that it's exactly why sonic had raged war upon genos, go so far as to try and kill him, if the opportunity arose. if he got rid of the person who's shaping and changing him into something that has more humanity, if it interfered with his everyday life... then of course he was going to absolutely shred away at the person responsible. that's not how it works—he knows, he understands the very fundamentals of attraction past a physical want. understanding on a clinical level had no heart to it, however, no feelings he's gradually coming to accept as a part of him. too bad it took his fists and weapons, a blood-boiling thirst seeking out destruction to have him give in just a fraction more.

after all of this comes and goes, sonic knows he'll have to lay down all the cards at his disposal, give them a good, long look before coming to any conclusions. the part of him that's endeared to genos doesn't want to make him wait, though it's a very scant piece that goes to a larger puzzle. working through his own issues, his own demons, will be his initial focus. if he doesn't tread down that path first, well. there's a high possibility he'll lash out again, really ruin whatever they're trying to rebuild.

this is as good of a start as any. opening up like this is part of the healing process, anyway, whether or not he curses himself to heaven and back for actions he wasn't entirely ready to take, not when he's fully himself. nobody is to blame for going through with something much more tender, a two-sided street that they so happened to pass each other by, fulfill a craving that isn't anything like before.

what he's truly yearning for rests below him, against him, cracking his eyes open to watch the heat genos breathes out dissipate into thin air. sonic can't bring himself to give a fuck who bends first, not when he can be fucked, hunkering down to begin the process of stretching himself with the help of an impossible sleek, blunt tip, holding his limbs steady by bracing his limbs in a very practiced manner. given the fact that their first time—at least in this fashion—wasn't long ago, he's receptive now more than ever, holding his breath until he reaches half the length, blowing out the air trapped inside his lungs in one lengthy huff. sonic will stay still, taking a second to readjust to being broken into, a distinct soreness still clinging to his insides. ]

[ genos can wait. the brute who shoved himself into sonic with an inhuman grasp crushing his throat is long gone and far away. he isn't the one calling the shots here, ready and willing to defer to whatever his wishes may be. if it's to adjust to the width that's spreading him wide open, twitching and flexing not unlike the real mccoy, then so be it.

he's still watching him. he needs a distraction, something to steer him away from the temptation to impale sonic in one fell swoop. it'd be so easy to, probably wouldn't even cause that much lasting trauma—for all his fastidious cleaning, a trace of wetness lingers here, and genos is adding to the pile with every instant. examining sonic helps, observing the flushed skin spreading past his neck and dotting his chest, the pert nipples standing at attention (from the morning chill, or...?), his belly as it rises and falls from each heavy breath pulled into his lungs. he saves his cock for last, throbbing as well, intrigued that the pulse of it seems to be struggling to match his imitation.

genos is good, genos is patient, and he can wait. his hands are becoming restless, grounding himself by stroking down a pair of well-toned legs, back up toward his waist, and further still up his sides. he notices a long, red line which stands out starkly from the rest of his scars, pausing with a frown. touching sonic here is gingerly done, textured fingers fanned over its expanse so lightly. i treated this. he nearly died.

it doesn't quite remove him from the scene they're sharing. it does, however, dampen some of his ardor, unintentionally making it easier to cope with the situation. ]

[ sonic's completely blind to genos's struggle, eyes peacefully shut with his head tipped back slightly as he goes down further and further, not stopping until he's fully seated flush against the other man's lap. another shaky, satisfied exhale is just the first of many signs that show how relaxed he's becoming, tense shoulders no longer raised, tight fists easing out with every breath he takes.

slow to recognize the sensation at his waist, he twitches slightly when it comes to him, startled out of focusing on the fullness he'd whispered and moaned about earlier.

oh. yes, that's a thing. that's still there. the featherlight touch to a phantom pain is new, however, taking a second to sweep his attention from genos's face, along his arm towards the livid scar that cut through several smaller ones in its wake. a slight indent is there due to both of their clumsy first-aid, healing just a bit off from its natural mark. sonic doesn't mind, doesn't see anything wrong with it when he's got dozens more that he'd done shoddy work on before.

still, it serves as a reminder that it was genos who helped him, guided him back from dangerous waters. some of that sweetness mixed with his brash personality is most likely due to those memories, thankful in spite of how bratty he still is, as if he weren't grateful in the least for what's been done to save him.

smiling softly is much easier now, a fondness cutting through his usual sharp gaze. reaching out to touch the back of genos's palm, sonic cups around a larger hand, pushing it up against the healed wound. help me is what he says in a hushed tone, further showing him what he means by clicking digits around the spot, lifting his hips an inch or two before rolling back down in one long, leisurely pass. ]

[ what sonic wants, sonic gets.

genos muddles through the meaning at first, slow to think and slow to act regardless of what he's being shown. it takes the first roll for him to understand, using his limitless strength to slowly pull him back up, then let him swivel on down in his own time. when he falls, it does things to genos he wouldn't dare to ever dream of, startled by the new angle they're meeting at that has him buried so deeply. the lift is equally toe-curling, easing him higher until the tapered crown of him crests right at the edge of his opening, only to be engulfed again and again.

no wonder sonic couldn't keep waiting. neither could genos, in his shoes, silently marveling the sway in his hips, firmly grinding into him each time he's seated to the hilt. it provides him with the illusion of control, even though the man above him is the one who remains in charge, establishing the pace of every stroke, not so fast, not so lazy as to slow them to a total crawl.

that too does things to genos, who bites into his lower lip with restraint. forget yesterday; this is how he's going to be killed, no question of it. the worst part is he's entirely brought it on himself. he could've walked away, never gotten this attachment, allowed a trashy redundant ninja to loiter in his apartment, but no. it had to be like this. ]

[ this isn't going to last long. sonic can tell from the strain tugging just below his constrained cock, forcing him to move faster, chasing the high it'll bring him. they can sleep more peacefully after they've both reached their peak... or at least sonic will. hell, he doesn't even know how long he'll crash for, guessing it'll either be a few hours (this happens sometimes) or the entirety of the day (this happens less). one extreme or the other will undoubtedly come to pass. thinking about what'll be done after they're sedated is unpleasant, an uncertain void he rips away from just as quickly as their push and pull is.

every upward slide drags him into a downward spiral, their pace becoming more heated, more intense; they're still movements made with purpose, precise meetings in the middle, lacking the harsh mindlessness left to singe inside abandoned quarters.

when did he start to moan out genos's name? it's a repetitive chant, breathy and barely there. unless one strained to make out the babbling, it could be easily mistaken for labored breathing and nothing more. the hero here below him isn't any normal person, not by any stretch of the word, so it wouldn't matter either way. if genos can pick up sights and sounds from several feet, miles, however far his sensors expand, then it doesn't matter if sonic's chosen to mutter or shout, it'll all turn out the same in the end.

a short hitch and choke is the only display he'll put on this time when he's hit hard, brushed up against his walls in just the right way, spilling up and over the tight pull of lace without any additional help on either of their ends. ]