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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... [ he knows he's kidding, yet it still prompts the strangest glance from him.

be strong. you like this person... ]

[ looks right back at him, bemused. ]

What? Do you want a goodbye kiss or something? [ missing the point, as always. ]

I considered giving you a goodbye-smack-upside-the-head.

[ then he's leaning over. ] But if you insist.

[ leans back into the couch cushions. ]

Well now you're getting nothing.

Edited 2016-01-22 05:53 (UTC)

No?

[ perhaps crouching back down to sonic's (rough) eye-level will help. ]

[ pushes his nose up in the air and turns away. ]

Nope.

[ he's thinking. ]

Should I ask nicely? [ it worked once... ]

[ stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest. ]

I pass.

[ some of his weight tips forward, invading sonic's personal space just a hair. ]

Please?

[ shoots a quick glance at him from the corners of his eyes. ]

... [ groans a little before facing forward. ] This had better be good.

[ laughs underneath his breath. apparently this is the form of politeness he should be pelting sonic with more often. ]

I would never disappoint you. [ big words; it's hard to tell if he's bragging about his newfound prowess under sonic's guidance, or if there's a hidden meaning waiting to be discovered.

either way, genos now has a lot to live up to. his approach won't waver in the slightest, using his favored lighter touch to steer sonic's face more towards his, lingering over the angle of his jawline as their lips brush each other. what's meant as a single solid press melts into two, then three, asking the silent questions of if he's willing to offer up some more, or would rather leave it as it is. he'll take what he can get. ]

[ sonic doesn't do these so-called goodbye kisses, an unnecessary deed he was one-hundred percent joking about. giving in to humor genos is easier than pushing him away, inwardly frowning for how soft he's becoming for this teenage cyborg.

there are no real expectations here, shutting his eyes to fully relinquish the first slide to his friend, joining in for the second, then reaching out to grab at his shirt on the third. he doesn't stop there, parting his lips to teasingly trace the outline of a pair in front of his, nip at the synthetic skin.

this wasn't supposed to last very long, but... oh well. ]

[ to genos it's less about the significance of the gesture and more of an excuse to have more of sonic, picking up where they'd left off in the bedroom after their physical limitations overcame them. he can be surprisingly single-minded at the worst times, originally wanting a soft and sweet memento, only that, nothing fancy.

not that this is either; the sudden rush urges him to find a new place to grab onto sonic, swerving around the natural reaction to thread fingers through his hair, curling around the base of his skull to instead curve over his shoulder, clasp it tightly, his breath more than a little unsteady as it's forced out of him.

they should stop here, but he's biting back, thumb slipping over the long and appealing line of sonic's pale neck. it's fine to press his luck an inch farther, isn't it? sonic isn't giving him the old one and done, has a very confident hold on the low collar of his shirt, so why leave him wanting? ]

[ leave it to sonic to ignite a fire, keep fanning the flames as long as there's a reason to. since genos isn't pulling away, isn't whispering his sorrys and mutterings of having to leave, then why not push it a step further than necessary? sonic doesn't hear either of their phones blaring at them to get to work, there are more important duties to attend to asap.

not that sonic would care all that much since hacking and slashing can be done whenever. for a hero of justice, however, it's much different. if it was a big enough threat, he has no doubt that genos would be propelling himself up and away, possibly meet up with his sensei and give a three-headed monster the good old one two.

that's funny in its own way, pausing to chuckle into their kiss, press deeper before he can be questioned. to make this even more difficult, sonic's chosen to become the barnacle he was before, arms finding a way to wrap around the larger body, drawing him as close as possible with his heels clasped at his lower back. ]

[ saitama isn't someone privy to leaving constant messages, though he had begun to wonder what was up with his pupil-in-name since it's often difficult to pry them apart as a team. all morning genos has labored to explain how he'd been out with a friend after dispatching some unwanted hero business. none of it are lies, per se—sonic is very much his friend, able to confirm it personally on more than one occasion, getting friendlier by the second if he refuses to let go anytime soon.

he isn't. this poses several issues: at the top of the list is leverage, torn between climbing back up or going down with sonic still attached. to do the former would mean separating them, a thought genos balks at as soon as it arises. when they're divided, he knows it's going to be for good, that it'll be his cue to exit, slide a half-open tin of sardines over to the cat on his way out.

so he'll settle for the next best thing, allowing himself to be drawn along for as much as the space will allow them. if he's rasping more pleas into the secret corners of his mouth it's purely done out of reflex, not to be trite or because this so-called demon toaster is practically wrapped around sonic's littlest finger ten times over. ]

[ in a different time and place sonic would have taken advantage of his control over genos, whether it be over trivial things or ideas laced with less than innocent intentions. he's done that before, sure, but the cold-blooded killer lying within keeps quiet, keeps to himself, and allows the more human side of sonic to shine through instead.

he's still selfish enough to lock them together, continue making out like they're both hormonal teenagers learning how to do the oldest song and dance of them all. truthfully, sonic get a kick from this, a sort of thrill that fuels him to want to tip this over the edge, ensnare genos to his very form. it's less of a physical need than a childish one, enjoying how easy it is so reduce them both to this, when they're both adults who know better than to move forward, slot together in less innocent ways.

smiling between one pass after the other, he sighs out through his nose, tangles a set of fingers through unruly blond hair. even if his own is off-limits, it doesn't mean sonic can't grab and hold onto genos's, shushing him once before parting his mouth further, prying a similar one open. he half-hopes they'll just say fuck it, do a little of this for a while, maybe something more. the rational side, albeit rather minuscule, says that he's less responsible than the hero, they'll have to part sooner than later. ]

[ at least one of them is a hormonal teenager to a t, and genos will place the blame on this for playing along, getting snatched up by yet another trap he could have easily warded off, easily squirmed out of before this rose too far. now he's at a crossroads: there are no specific deadlines he needs to keep, no demands on him befitting of the hero class he qualified for. yet guilt tugs at him, much like greedy digits are, of abandoning the teacher he'd been bowing and scraping for all this time. the teacher who'd saved him from himself, showing him there's more to strength than just raw power (which he still doesn't entirely believe the origins of).

all this from a kiss. all this from a villainous figure whom, by all rights, he should have blasted out of saitama's apartment at the first sign of trouble. thanks to him, he had to purchase a new television, for crying out loud—

the memories wash over him like a splash of frigid water to the face, giving genos just enough clarity to pause for half a second, pant heavier than he ever had while they traded fisticuffs at the edges of z-city. he shouldn't do this. he shouldn't be here. this man could snap his neck right here and now, hang his head up as promised, and genos would be in no position whatsoever to fight back, defensive systems overridden by the raging storm of lust threatening to tent his jeans anew with no help needed from an internal command. ]

...tell me to leave. [ he didn't want to at dawn, doesn't want to now, but the rationality of the situation demands they cool their heels, take a break, carry on with their regular routine as would best befit two level-headed young men, affiliations notwithstanding. without an incentive genos fears he'll have his way with sonic on these very blankets here and now. a tempting proposition, and one that would likely turn their long morning into a longer afternoon...and evening...until another entire day has gone by. ]

[ level-headed is a very strong word to use for sonic. in battle? for certain. in everyday life? not so much, especially not in this case, when he's so close to keeping genos inside his apartment for a while longer. they could do so much, it would be so easy—

and yet the very tiny part of him that's starting to form, reminding him to be mindful, to be at least somewhat considerate, pleads for him to cut it off. it's a tough call for sonic to make, huffing out an annoyed but resigned sigh before his eyes crack halfway open, regarding his friend with a coy smile. ]

I want to tell you to fuck me into the floor. [ kisses the bridge of his nose instead, lips lingering at the crease between his brow. ] But you should be a good boy instead.

[ this'll probably come back and bite him in the ass later. worse things have happened, it's definitely a disappointment and frustration he can live with. ]

[ that's all he needed to hear. the traffic lights of his mind switch from green to yellow, and his breathing slows, just on this side of fogging up as his cooling kicks into high gear. this happens so much around sonic... ]

...as you wish. [ genos has the grace not to wantonly whimper at the suggestion, though he chews at his own lip, saves the idea for a rainy day.

be a good boy. it sounds almost as good, eyes fluttering shut to let that sink in, acknowledge it, adhere to it. he can be good; he can get up, walk away, tear apart an anpan in one bite on the way home. it'll have to do in lieu of half the things he'd rather to do sonic. be good. he inhales noisily, taking a sidelong at him. holding back isn't easy, but he'll try. ]

[ in an act of kindness unlike his usual self, sonic spares a second to comb his fingers through genos's hair, push it back a bit in a soothing motion. ]

Next time. [ another languid kiss is initiated, but this short round is meant as a means to an end, parting before he can think twice about grinding into his lap instead. none of that today, it'll be saved for later, unlocking his limbs from genos's metal form slowly, a tad seductive, just to be difficult. ]

[ very difficult. such is the hand genos has been dealt, mutely appreciating the act for what it is, holding his hands still to stop himself from reciprocating.

there, that wasn't so bad. he can even stand up straightly now, pretend he wasn't just reduced to a heaving mess on his knees. he fixes his hair, quirks his eyebrows high. ]

Text me. [ sonic has, but should again. they'll find the time. ]

[ crosses his legs at the ankle, giving him a look. ]

Sexy photos?

[ he's slow to answer, and not just from giving those sardines to speedy after all. ]

...yes.

[ throws his head back and genuinely laughs at his honesty, the pause he gives. ]

If I feel like it.

[ ... ] ... [ he should have hit sonic after all. ]

I am leaving.

[ he's backing away... ]