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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[ was the approximation of time really needed? sonic's amused either way, turning his head to the side to lay on a small smirk once genos is focusing on his face again. how is something so simple so endearing? is it due to how close they've become over the span of several months? possibly, though all signs point to the affection that unknowingly invaded him when he wasn't paying attention, catching him off-guard until all he could do is succumb to it, a daunting thought that isn't as hard to swallow now as it was in the beginning.

he's trapped now, cornered in a less intimidating manner, one he can more or less accept and challenge as he sees fit. there'll be no competition here, however, merely wondering why in the world the cyborg is even asking when it's so obvious— ] If you want to. [ this isn't necessarily an extended courtesy towards genos. or is it? he wouldn't be palming at him otherwise, an upwards stroke that has his toes already curling. chasing the sweep of his tongue comes easily thereafter, following through with what his friend here could not. ] But I wasn't talking about that.

[ oh, he's certainly added additional friction to an otherwise ignored part of his anatomy, there's no doubt about it. yet stimulation comes in so many forms, not relying on only the obvious for his pleasure when there are so many other creative ways to bring him at his peak and beyond. not that there isn't some lasting novelty with jerking himself off, but conventional methods he can do at any time of the day grows stale after several attempts to imitate what can only be achieved with another body involved. these are all surface-level concerns; there are many factors, many pieces of a larger puzzle that is sonic's thought process, after all. mulling it over and discussing it in grand detail isn't what he's going for, anyway, not when he can leave that to a late-night phone call that will undoubtedly happen after they part.

becoming aware of that having to happen sooner or later causes his stomach to drop, a stutter to his otherwise fluent initiation of another sweltering kiss. he misses his mark, smoothly turning it into a chaste peck before his limbs loosen a fraction, releasing from the vice grip he had on genos. this isn't the time to get lost in what'll happen in the future. acting desperate isn't like him, so he'll dial it back as subtly as he can, presumably to give the other man more space to work with. ]

[ that isn't what he meant? what else is there? the hypothesis is going to a thorn in genos's side for far longer than anything needs to be. he stares up cluelessly, thrown off-track when he's preoccupied by sonic's marauding mouth. what starts off unintentionally slow rises to a fever pitch in what feels like no time at all. while hardly the worst it's ever been, there's something about it that brings a new puff of hot air up to the surface for him to swallow if he so chooses. what's with that, getting spread so thinly over the most minute things; if anything, sonic is the one who's bore the brunt of being spoiled here, not him.

as genos rocks forward onto his knees, the tradition will continue. he's pretty adept at multitasking—sensei's told him so, anyway—so there's no trouble in keeping the two of them plastered together with subsequent kisses while he fumbles through finding an odd pillow on the floor, thinking two will suffice once he's found them. one for sonic's head, and one for his back, not wanting to sacrifice his comfort when there's no time or room to abruptly pull out the futon and call it a day (besides, what if sensei found out).

he's finally able to find the space to speak after hovering over sonic, sliding down to his side to spare him from most of his weight, a familiar action from the recent past that's surprisingly calming. ] What did you mean...? [ the grand details aren't what he's specifically looking for. it's as much of an excuse for genos to listen to him further as it is to settle the niggling curiosity he hasn't lost sight of. apparently he may not be as well-schooled in this field as he once thought he was, but there's a world of difference between the mindless consumption of media and the personal preferences of a living, breathing individual. especially when your name is speed-of-sound sonic, and everything you do defiantly flies in the face of the norm. ]

[ something sonic should expect from now on is the comfort genos freely gives him. he need to stop being surprised when strong, mechanical hands are intentionally gentle, a fleeting thought passing him by as soon as his head's cushioned. the confidence he'd been harboring comes to a sudden halt, staring up at his exception until he's moved again, his gaze following with renown interest. a tiny smirk follows, shifting about to hook a leg over one of genos's while a hand dances along a titanium chest. ]

I have so much more than just lingerie in my drawers. [ now he's back to normal, lids lowering over sly, narrow eyes. sonic nips at his bottom lip, needing to be at least a little difficult in their game for two. ] Use your imagination.

[ not that this specific type of information is classified, but why spill everything when he can reveal it all bit by bit? ]

[ so that's it. everyone has their own skeletons in the closet—or devices, in sonic's case. this could be potentially off-putting, but genos just cracks a small grin, a bare flash of teeth. he's definitely putting two and two together, hardly shocked at the conclusion, maybe a little curious. what kind of selection does he have? is it vast, or a handful of a few favorites he likes to rotate through in his spare time? he wouldn't mind seeing them at some point, perhaps, just to see how they...measure up. for research purposes. ]

Really? [ this isn't offensive at all. his eyebrows raise in interest, coming closer, sliding a leg down in between sonic's, just enough to renew more of the closeness they'd lost in the slight change of scenery. ] Did you miss it that much?

[ what a stroke to his ego. in the near future he can probably mention all the stroking he's done, too, both before and after the fact. the opportunity's never risen thus far, too focused on more sentimental and mundane commentary everytime they've managed to catch up long-distance. sure, some errant photos were snapped he thought sonic may like, though they didn't hold a candle to the more blatant scenes he'd be pelted with at twice the frequency, double the amount. someone may need lessons after all. ]

[ snickers something light and easy, nosing playfully at his face. saying all of this wasn't meant to boost his friend's ego, but if it does, well. that's fine. that's good, sonic enjoys it when genos emits a confident air outside of battle. this, too, does things to him, has him pressing up against that leg to once again close the mere inches of distance between them. ] I— [ he stops short of replying right away, momentarily distracted by his hand splayed across dark alloy. this is nothing new, it's all stuff he's seen and explored before, but something hits him when the hum of machinery inside of genos (more feeble attempts at cooling himself down, maybe?) stirs something greater and more important to the forefront of sonic's mind.

past all the... physical activities he's enjoyed over the course of fifteen days, there were other times too when he'd look a little too long at a casual, slightly blurry photo of the hero. nothing significant or out of the ordinary was in the picture, but he'd still lay in bed and stare with a fondness he's not used to, prompting him to ring the man up even if there was a chance it would go straight to voicemail. now more than ever he recognizes how real it all is, sobered to a comfortable degree from that realization alone.

his neither regions isn't the only thing aching, reaching for another short, soft kiss. ] I missed this. [ presses harder against the center of metal plates, right where his core rests underneath layers and sheets of titanium. this is as close to saying the real words—i missed you the most—a dusting of pink coating his face regardless of the tiny, pleased smile stretching his lips. ]

[ gwnos can wait. it allows him some extra seconds to examine sonic anew, though his eyes don't tend to stray far from his face, soaking up every last detail about him. how wondrous it is, to take a man who should be nothing more than a foe to squabble with, an annoying pest, and end up befriending him to the point of lewdly pressing him into the floorboards of his home in ways that send a spike of warmth through his servos he hasn't known in years. he's certain it has nothing to do with where their legs are pressed and everything to do with where sonic's hand lies. the angle is too poor to cover it with a larger one, so he'll have to settle for tilting his head into a second wordless kiss, a third, until a soft sigh parts his lips, waning them into a smaller smile, the upward turn less emphasized. ]

I agree. [ it's a playful jab at his manner of speech, nothing more. sonic should already know how deeply this sentiment runs, besides; genos has only repeated it half a dozen times in varying capacities since they met up today. ] ...let me show you.

[ the threat of the paparazzi or a nosy fan isn't going to stop him anymore. he was touching sonic, once, one hand braced on his hip to steady himself while the other's crawling under the hem of his shirt, going nowhere in particular, although it ceases wandering after a time to return to the start, hesitant in grabbing onto the edge to tug it up and over his head. ] Can I...? [ probably, definitely, there's no need for him to seek confirmation on every single step, but on the other hand, he doesn't see how it'd be harmful, either. better to make his intentions clear now than to end up crossing signals along the way and get into a spat about it later on. they've done plenty of fighting these days to last for an age or two. ]

[ the lighthearted mocking will go virtually unnoticed. at least outwardly, anyway, minus a slight narrow of his eyes, smoothed from any venom from the slight crinkling there at the edges. while he won't say it out loud, he's become incredibly fond of genos checking in on him when they're toeing a fine line. it's... sweet, really, something a sonic of just a few weeks ago would have bristled angrily over, yell that he shouldn't be coddled, shouldn't be treated so kindly. writing it off as just another byproduct of his growing affection sounds too harsh, but when it comes down to it, that's exactly what it is. things have changed, things will continue to, and this once hellbent on destroying his affections ninja refuses to waste more time on trying to figure things out that are blatantly obvious.

feeling is the only necessity needed for the rest of his stay, no matter how long or short that will come to be. for how much of an insufferable, defiant man sonic can be, he's surprisingly obedient when he sounds out an affirmative, even goes so far as to make it easier with a little wiggle here and there, helping but not giving any other assistance other than that. besides, it's not like genos couldn't do it all by himself, even if the brat of a villain decided to become one large, very limp noodle.

as it stands, none of that will come to pass, not at this very moment. perhaps in the future he'll happily ruffle some feathers in a less violent fashion, once other important things get sorted out, several more discussions are brought to the table. they aren't in any rush to figure this all out, besides, having an inkling that genos too wants to live in the moment, go with the flow of a now more gentle current and see where it takes them. ]

[ true to form, there won't be any speculations beyond the here and now. there aren't a great many things which concern genos at the moment, currently content with his present company, and the unmentioned promises of getting to do this several more times in the days and weeks to come. eventually he may even be able to talk sonic into that real, full-fledged date after all (this is going to push it up to three dinners again, he can tell), but he's okay with taking it one step at a time. why hurry when it's taken them this long to get here?

since he's been given the go-ahead, all lingering reticence is cast aside with sonic's shirt. look at him: over two weeks have passed, and the files on his cellphone don't hold a candle to the slender, scarred torso laid out before him. maybe he's overestimated how much he can handle here, suddenly overwhelmed by a hunger he'd lost sight of possessing and a pang in his groin he'd forgotten he was capable of harboring. this too is familiar to him, s sense of deja vu that both comforts and confuses him. how can one person affect him so deeply, just because they're both half-naked and idly wasting away their hours as the sun sets for the day?

the answers certainly don't lie within sonic, but his hands can pass over him reverently like they do. automatically his line of sight is drawn to a long, angry scar that's still healing over to this day. instinct commands him to pay it a visit, shuffling down noisily until he's at eye level to fasten his mouth onto some of the smaller, less prominent welts near it, fog billowing as he exhales out to nuzzle against an area which, by now, should not be carrying any lingering pain if he's played his cards right and the proper care's been taken. even if that's untrue it should still be fine; the masochistic streak sonic carries is well-known, although genos is reluctant to put him through any discomfort he hasn't specifically asked for. that's the hero's side of him talking, the soft spots that get picked apart and chortled at every once in a while. ]

[ no signs are given that would indicate unnecessary levels of discomfort when genos passes by the newest scar on his form, though his fingers do twitch from the shock of a pain that isn't there at all to begin with. so many times has he brushed against it and hissed out, only to realize a second later that the blistering ache is all in his mind. certainly he regains a faint throbbing if he happens to twist around at a certain angle, but past that there are no lasting dangers to be seen, just another mark against an already battered figure that will undoubtedly receive more blemishes as time goes on.

this one feels more significant, somehow, a rightness there as he circles his gaze down to regard his friend, huff out a breath he was unknowingly holding back. his own work on patching himself up was much too shoddy, is reminded of such from the pricks scattered around the main event, missed marks that'll remain forever embedded in his skin. to know that his savior in that moment of weakness is still around, still regards him as someone who isn't weak or can't hold his own... well, it's nothing sonic can completely comprehend, much less put a name to the tingling sensation somewhere in the very pit of his stomach. still, it makes way to a more tender approach to genos's descent, slipping a hand up and around his back, his shoulders, until digits finally slot into choppy blond hair once more.

all at once sonic wants to open his mouth to tell him a very belated thanks, how he was too stubborn and prideful to articulate how he really felt—ah, but it's gone as soon as there's a face directly pressed against the area, cheek flattening itself into the pillow cushioning his head as he exhales forcefully. it hits him now more than ever, though he can't be sure as to why when he all but clasped a steely hand there days and days ago, less to help him roll his hips and more to have the steady, comforting weight resting on the reddened area by the same person who ensured his safety. the contradiction isn't new by any means, yet it still brings about the tiniest of shyness in sonic, eyes slipping closed to will away the awkward redness pinching at otherwise pale skin. ]

Edited 2016-02-06 09:16 (UTC)

[ his bashfulness will go largely unnoticed, and what genos does catch sight of won't be commented on. sonic as a whole is much more appealing than the twist of uncertainty to his features, the darkening flush of excitement that stains him. there are plenty of other things to admire: like the prominent muscles of his abdomen, the slight flare of his hips (weirdly too feminine, yet it works for him), as well as the structure between there that shapes a near-perfect vee.

is he drooling? not too much, hopefully. it'll just make for an easier climb up the length of him, slowly committing the pattern to memory he knows will yield great results. every kiss gets followed by the fleeting clench of his teeth, and the rasp of his tongue to soothe away the potential sting. there's no set path for him, merely indulging himself with the salt on his skin, the smoothness only a dedicated routine of pampering could bring.

by the time genos reaches his original point of interest, he's crooning a ravenous sound in his throat he isn't entirely aware of making. he's far too busy with too many things to do, ranging from palming inbetween sonic's legs again to sucking hard at the side of his neck, knowing he should probably be doing this elsewhere, someplace where prying eyes won't immediately find it out. at the same time he thinks he might be okay with the idea of others seeing where sonic's been, what he's been up to, if not the person he's doing it with. that's fine, that's unnecessary. genos's budding possessive streak doesn't run tat far, not yet, possibly ever, depending on how it goes. ]

[ possessive undertones notwithstanding, there will definitely be a livid bruise to follow the assault. sonic shouldn't be so shocked over the pressure, the burst of pleasure it brings him, yet the sting shoots down the length of him at a surprisingly swift speed, momentarily blinded the second genos begins to grope and grind with his palm. everything at once comes crashing down on him, pulling a hitched, loud moan that wasn't initially intended to be so animated. he won't go so far as to silence himself, almost does so a moment too late when the back of his hand lifts to ghost over his mouth, placing it across his line of vision instead.

well, he should have expected this. wasn't he just running his mouth about how much he missed genos's to begin with? he wants to laugh at himself over it, trill happily over the inconsistent thoughts and reactions. there's no real room to at the moment, not when he's busying himself by tipping his head to the side, eager for more bites that'll have to be covered up later to preserve the smallest amount of modesty he still possesses. sure, it's incredibly minuscule, but even sonic is graced with fundamental social cues, though they're often overlooked if he's feeling cheeky, or it doesn't fall in line with the beat of his own drum.

they're consequences he can live with, much like the spiral of excitement his companion is bringing to the table. a push like this is all he ever needs to really liven up, spreading himself wider as long limbs split a fraction further, rock up in one smooth, swinging motion to lend himself some added friction. sonic's not past the point of no return, not yet, but the haze of lust is beginning to cloud his judgement at a startling rate, lips parted to murmur some nonsense between a sharp, needy intake of air. ]

[ sadly the one is all he'll be graced with—the hero's decency in genos ordains he should be moving this elsewhere, switching down to sections which are normally more concealed, like his collarbone, and the meatier part of his shoulder. other than these he won't be too harsh, gently nosing at the purpling bruises thereafter and growling a satisfied sound. this is good, he's making sonic feel good, and it's more than he could ever ask for.

he needs to be closer. both hands take flight to his belt—more decorative than anything, given sonic's shape and size—nearly forgetting in his haste to keep checking in, still not one hundred percent familiar with sonic's preferred procedures, what he likes, what he doesn't. ] Can I—please, I want to—... [ he's less steady this time around, blunt metal fingers dipping underneath the gap his waistband provides nonetheless, remembering the sliver of even softer skin he'd encountered hours ago, how he'd like to kiss him under there, too, hold on and never let go.

much of the same is happening here, abandoning sonic to slide both arms up and underneath him, reaching back for his waistline with one hand once he's confident his grasp is secure. he can feel his back straining against him, the muscles drawn tightly as he pushes himself up for balance. there is so much uncharted territory for genos to mark and explore, lips itching to be there, too, more activities on his list to do than he can physically keep up with. he's restless, turning glassy eyes onto sonic, so simultaneously aroused and needy it's causing his core to flare up in spite of itself. they've talked about this, and he's tried to regulate himself, but it can't be helped. ]

Edited 2016-02-06 11:39 (UTC)

[ he looks good like this—an immediate thought following a prolonged glance to his friend, chest rising and falling after the rigorous search genos made in order to mark him. being wound up like this so quickly is so jarring when they were having such a casual conversation mere minutes ago, even if the contents of it were a subtle lead-in to their frenzied foreplay. it's not bad by any stretch of the word, needing him to know this as quickly as possible. all he can rightfully do is assist with a hand that isn't as steady as he'd like it to be, fumbling with the clasp that honestly should have come off way earlier in their meetup, had they the means to follow through with it without an audience.

hopefully that'll continue to be the case. isn't this technically saitama's place, anyway, despite their resident demon cyborg shacking it up in such a cramped space? sonic's not sure how he feels about becoming so intimate in his enemy's territory, but whatever. as long as genos is sure his sensei won't be returning anytime soon, then they could do anything as long as the occupants remain at a solid two.

what will they end up doing is up for debate, but sonic's not picky, not when his skin prickles in response to the sheer look of want the hero is displaying so openly, the blistering hot air radiating off of him. this and more has him swallowing hard, lids hooding equally clouded eyes before he takes matters into his own hands and shoves his pants into a heap on the floor, unashamed with his display of soft, silky stocking that come up and around his knees. his choice in undergarments this time is surprisingly normal, though it still hugs tightly across the skin it does cover, leaves only a little room for the imagination. none of this is particularly interesting to sonic, anyway, wanting only to feel their lips lock and slide together, accomplishing such with a firm tug to the back of genos's neck. ]

[ nothing is ever set in stone. regardless, genos would like to believe it when his teacher says he won't be home until tomorrow morning at the earliest. it's only fair for him to confide in others, finally earn a shred of the recognition and companionship his self-imposed disciple is convinced he should've had all along. before the hero association, before him, he'd spent time by his lonesome, hadn't he? now everything's changed, he has comrades he can call on in a pinch, or vice versa, even if they number very few. he's a little jealous, of course, wishing he could have gone along for the ride, seen king's place, made fun of him for more of the raunchy entertainment that helped to kickstart whatever it is that's currently happening. if not for sonic crashing the party, there's no telling what he'd do...cook a sad-looking meal for one and scribble note after note well into the night, most likely. the same routine as ever.

but he's not alone, and convinced they're in no danger of discovery anytime soon. distantly genos knows how naive it is to think that way, how risky it is when, technically, they could be caught at any moment. the possibility of sensei finding out in such a fashion isn't as vexing as it would be for the both of them to suddenly lose steam, the ambiance they've finally managed to establish falling apart before their eyes. he wouldn't want to lose that, and he definitely doesn't want to stop. there are no arguments when sonic does the work for him, effectively answering any withstanding and potential questions in one fell swoop.

appreciating that is unavoidable, as is his overall enthusiasm, more than willing to be tugged back to his rightful place, fumbling only once while he finds his balance. poised over sonic like with less material in the way, he's able now to bypass it freely, skip the formality of teasing him on the outside and shove a hand straight into his briefs, groaning heatedly at his discovery. for all that they've done, genos hasn't exactly handled him very often, not to any lasting and significant results. there still isn't a whole lot of room to tug at him and explore, though it doesn't much for now. the reception will be as good as the outcome, swallowing sonic's sounds greedily and prying him open with his tongue for more. ]

[ perhaps it's due to the rush of passion being passed back and forth between them, but sonic might think that nothing can beat this, a heated attachment that nobody else but genos has been able to accomplish. a rush of relief floods his entirety once full contact is made, groaning a wanton sound that's stifled by the mouth latched onto his own. while he's always been quite grateful for their contrasting forms, it rings true now more than ever with how delicately they're both balanced from head to toe; without a solid, sturdy frame like genos's, they might as well have already toppled into an awkward mess, killed the mood when it was just giving way towards something more fulfilling.

they're through with the bumbling aspects of their relationship—friendship, that is, or whatever it happens to fall into after everything is said and done. no longer is genos actively presenting himself so naively, asking permission for the sake of decorum, a sense of heroics that sonic's come to expect. while he still doesn't jump into it head-on, like he knows he sometimes does in the heat of battle, the man's still not crowing about not knowing what to do, where to go, what direction he should take them. it's a huge turn-on to witness the gradual change, knowing he's the one that lit the fire that's quite literally inside of the cyborg, continue to do so even when sonic's not around.

this isn't just about a stroke to his already huge ego, either. those are actions best left in a literal sense, though sonic belatedly jerks a little on the third upward roll with a padded palm, a bewilderment he's not accustomed to. is it because he's not usually extended this courtesy when sharing an intimate moment with another person? or is it the inappropriately-timed, very unappealing memory of certain other heroes who've defeated him in a similar uncouth way? both, perhaps, if he really wanted to think about it. luckily it all comes and goes in the blink of an eye, brought back to the here and now within another long, delicious slide against rigid flesh. who cares about the past when he has genos working him so sweetly, opening his legs up for him even further, even with how trapped he already is. ]

[ a little bit of knowledge can go a long way, especially when you're glued to a computer almost as often as you are to the one-and-only caped baldy. by now genos has had some firsthand experience to counterbalance the things he'd thought he already knew, so there isn't as pressing of a need to screech to a halt every few minutes and wonder how he's doing, what he can do for sonic, fret and fuss over what exactly is expected of him when he doesn't have a clue. it's more difficult for him to move forward on his biological impulses when he...technically doesn't have any, relying on his lingering mental functions to help see him through it. sonic has always been more of the star than he has, anyway.

that isn't to say there aren't things he doesn't want; to the contrary, there's a great deal of them he'd love to deliver on if the timing was right, yearning to make up for what he feels were arguably lackluster performances in the wake of their duel. sure, sonic seemed relatively satisfied with the proceedings after a rough start and muddling through the haze of a deep, exhausted slumber, but it's nothing compared to the heights they could reach if genos were better equipped, if he refined his technique and knew all the right ways to deal with an overzealous wriggling ninja in his arms. it's a long learning process, he knows, one he's fully committed to passing with flying colors.

he'd like to think he has a pretty good track record for the time being, backed up by the breathless litanies breathed past his own lips, the restless motions down below that, although well-intended, don't actually give his grasp the free reign he desires when there's still a black bunch of cloth obstructing his range of motion. leaping over such a hurdle is done thoughtlessly, pausing to slide it down sonic's hipbones, over stockinged calves and off to parts unknown, hopefully to never be seen again for the rest of the evening. now, at last, genos has him in full view, taking a brief period to savor him under lighting that, for a change, isn't as dim as they've gotten used to. ]

... [ he's lucky, he thinks. to get to have someone like this, beautiful and deadly, unabashed by his shortcomings and an armored body built more for battle than for anything resembling this. this, however, is neither the time or place to be upswept in that emotional current. not with a pair of legs in front of him which beg his examination, slowly crawling polymer-padded fingertips across them inch by inch. it feels the same, yet incredibly different from what he's used to with the thin material stretched over them so. ] Should I remove these...? [ the question is rhetorical, warping his mouth with some secret amusement on his end. no, he plans on following the far superior scheme of lifting one leg over his shoulder, feeling along it, uncaring when his mouth flies to it softly, finding the contrast interesting here as well. ] I'm not going to.

[ they both knew the answer to that, as much as sonic should know his friend doesn't plan on stopping at one kiss, continuing to move along until he's running out of room to bend, seeking out his other leg instead for a similar treatment. the palms of his hands glide to what he otherwise can't rain any attention on, squeezing his haunches firmly. he's so lucky, huffing a tremulous sigh behind the bend of sonic's knee. who else would ever get to do this and live to tell the tale? ]

[ not many people have, that's to be certain. sweet, saccharine sentiments are always left out of the picture, both parties merely aching to itch a spot that needs attention right away, a rough and needy affair that's done and over without any additions thrown into the equation. to have someone so openly appreciate him as a whole—not just his perfectly sculpted form, nor the cute boyishness still clinging to his features, or all of his prowess as a hunter, a killer, the speed and fight packed so tightly within him—hasn't been a feat accomplished to his immediate knowledge. thus he'll have to be forgiven when a sudden bout of sheepishness overcomes him, gaze fleeing to another part of genos, like the long line of his neck and the intricacies that follow thereafter.

recognizing his reasons for this change in behavior is coming easier to him with every encounter they have, every embarrassed sweep through text on the internet that will help bring some insight into an important feature to his character he'd lost somewhere along the way. was it even there to begin with? is that why it was so infuriating? possibly. probably. those are finer details he has yet to figure out, packing it away with practiced ease to go over on another day, perhaps with the culprit himself, if they get to that point in their companionship.

there'll be no conversing here, even when genos raises his voice to idly mumble out his thoughts. sonic has half a mind to roll his eyes at the man, nudge him and tell him that they're there for a reason, stupid, of course they shouldn't come off, but he refuses to break this perfect scene apart, stubbornly staying in character for the long-run. besides, it's harder to argue or push back when a bit of charming cockiness mutes him completely, his full attention now back to front and center, because he's not going to miss the sight of his friend nosing into sleek fabric encasing an already taunt limb, growing warmer still once he's moved on to its twin to give it a similar amount of appreciation.

having himself displayed in such a way doesn't hit him until now. the long overdue recognition is laughable in a certain light, but nobody's laughing here. if anything, sonic will follow along the same path he's set out on, sheepish once he's lifted his arms and haphazardly lower them over his eyes, his face, leaving a bit of room to peer out at genos with an unreadable expression.

when did he start breathing so heavily? he's leaking already, toes curling in response to the burning coiling tightly at his belly. they've barely scratched the surface, yet here he is already so open and willing to be... whatever the cyborg has in mind, really. this is beginning to feel less like exploration and more like outright doting—again, that's nothing to turn his nose up at, but with the weight that buries itself deeply in shining amber eyes, the enamored, affectionate hum that mimics a heartbeat that's long lost, it's beginning to hold a lot more meaning than he's used to. ]

[ it is definitely doting, beyond a shadow of a doubt. getting through to sonic in this manner seems easier to do than it is with words alone. that's how it should be, isn't it? personal affiliations notwithstanding, they're both men of action, better suited towards than to have a heart to heart conversation on any number of topics, including how they feel about their own. in lieu of everything else they've said and done, genos is convinced this will make many of his intentions loud and clear, something the object of his affections should have come to terms with a lot sooner (in his opinion).

the fact it's a little self-indulgent for him doesn't hurt, though. neither does scanning every last line of sonic, eyelids drooping at the sight of some of his handiwork. each breath he draws in is becoming more labored, the nice rosy tint to his skin slowly spreading his chest, limbs clenching further and further with increased tension—all the classic signs of heightened arousal are here. these are are critically viewed and filed away with no small amount of pride. i've done this to him. this is genos's fault, his doing, his lot to take responsibility for. it's a wonder he doesn't pounce and seize the man on the spot, showing the utmost iron-fisted restraint in keeping himself at bay. someday soon this will be about him, about them, but not now.

he'll have to let sonic's legs down if he wants to come closer without bending either of them into outrageous shapes. it's doable, he knows, yet hardly relishes the idea of seeing how long they can maintain it; another item on the to-do list of the distant future. he compromises by easing them down to his waist's level and scoots forward, both palms dragging up to a pair of thighs and beyond. to sonic's chagrin he'll ignore his most obvious (prominent) feature for the time being, eyes trained on his hidden face while he nibbles a trail up along his belly, his chest, spending a spare second to turn his cheek inward, rub against the space where his heartbeat's fluttering like a hummingbird before moving on.

throughout this he's never carried a specific goal in mind. before this is over he supposes he should get sonic off at least once, probably more, because that's only fair. which method remains, at the moment, unknown to him. there are several options genos can choose from, and they all sound too appealing to settle on just one when they have an entire evening ahead of them. he'll think it over for a few minutes, letting his fingertips in the meantime flit along the expanse of a flexing, raised arm, coaxing it to fall aside so he can see its owner's face better. a small smile is chased by cool synthetic landing on his sternum, the hollow of his throat, breathing a soft and nonsensical sound of want into it. he's so riled up—they both are, really, enjoying the journey as much as he will the destination at the end of the road. ]

[ is genos being a tease? sonic can't tell when he's busy shielding himself from the brunt of his bashfulness, although he does allow the offending limb to be maneuvered away with no struggle involved. for anyone else he'd have no qualms in butting heads, destroy an otherwise perfect evening that ends in both parties in a huff. then again, he's never allowed another person to touch secret parts of him that have nothing to do with his body, get this close to him to see beyond all of his superficial nonsense. so when he's given attention in ways he's not entirely used to just yet, well. to say he's flustered is an understatement, able to hold genos's gaze for mere seconds before he's squeezing his eyes shut, face tilting away and to the side.

not that his friend will stay still for very long. in a mimicry of their first intimate encounter, the straight pass up to his throat drags a whine from the back of it, canting that to tip and dig his head into the flimsy pillow resting underneath. no curses or laughter will accompany it like last time, however, merely ending it with strained breaths while he comes down from the full-body shiver that wracks his entire form. it's good—a little too good, if that's at all possible. he wants more, but still a far cry from outright begging. has he ever, though? other than whispered, desperately bossy mutterings for more, sonic hasn't stooped low enough to do more, claw at scramble for a release he knows will come sooner or later.

that's not what genos wants, is it? sonic's confident he'll find out with a verbal confession if so; the man before him is pretty good at working himself into bolder statements, demands with a touch of kindness still tickling the edges of his words. the gruffness he once heard when being pushed up against a wall doesn't count, not really, but even then he uttered hushed apologies, floundered to find his footing, soothed away aching bruises with tender presses from a set of lips. it heats sonic in ways he can't explain, a confusion that's equally delicious as it is perplexing, much like the puff of steam that's warming his already damp flesh. ]

[ he can beg if he's really so inclined, but that isn't on genos's short list of potential accomplishments this evening. in truth he's having a difficult time of striking a balance between leaving sonic hanging by a thread for more and diving into him headlong. he just wants to make it good for him, please him through whatever means he can muster up.

finding both the words and ways to express such a mission is equally challenging. taking action will have to suffice once again, drawing in the most leaden inhalation while his fingers curl around and clutch at sonic with no small amount of renewed interest. without any further obstructions, he can give each and every inch of him the attention it deserves at long last. there is certainly no teasing here: although drawn out and painfully slow, his strokes are firm and unapologetically bold, spreading the essence that dribbles from him after several subsequent visits to give it a slightly smoother glide.

this isn't as peculiar as it could be. very little thought is spared to how taboo this is, how it isn't something he should be predisposed towards, according to the natural standard. as far as he's concerned, he likes touching sonic, likes to watch him come undone, so what is the harm in combining the two? plus, holding him like this feels good. he's not too long, not too short, thick enough for genos to consider certain things he can't be bothered to look into right now. the heft of him is probably the most satisfying thing of all, inspiring his inner mechanisms to hum strongly, drowned out by the involuntary groan muffled into sensitive, bruised flesh. ]

...look at me. [ it's a request and a command all rolled into one, neck craning up to peer at sonic whilst his free hand roams over his arm absentmindedly, stopping at the wrist to hold it loosely, uncharacteristically shy when it comes to completing the motion to tangle their fingers together, or else guide him elsewhere. he's still active otherwise, teeth sinking into his own bottom lip at how readily he throbs into his passing palm. he hasn't felt this before, merely an observer every other time he twitched to life or burst like a dam. he should've gotten more acquainted with him here much, much sooner. ]

[ finally. being given some kind of stimulation forces him to sound out in approval and relief, rocking his hips forward as best as he's able in their position. god, it really has been a while, hasn't it? nothing can compare to any number of devices at his disposal, even if genos has never really paid this part of his anatomy any mind, which isn't a disturbing or unappealing affair. he's not entirely accustomed to it, being so far gone the last time he's gripped and pulled at a heavy erection that he can barely recall anything past the ache in his bones, the firm length pounding into him with precise thrusts. nonetheless, it's fine, it's good, yet a far cry from how he's usually handled.

that's nice in its own way as well. sonic can't follow through with that line of thought, however, too blinded by the sparks soaring through his body. he almost misses what the other man says, cracking heavy lids open to once again stare at nothing in particular. whether it's due to the mood or other factors—a fast slide downward to strained and rigid flesh, the increasingly stifling atmosphere surrounding them, perhaps even simply the presence of genos himself—sonic will readily comply to the directive, albeit slowly, carefully, as if some backlash were to arise at any second. making a visual connection again to his friend affects him in an overwhelming way, a clash of similar sensations all melting into a singular wish to stop being so compliant and do something.

a jolt of a memory passes him by in mere seconds, fueled from honing in on the pressure at his wrist, no matter how light the touch is. from his current position, there's very little for him to accomplish, lacking the strength or will to change what's working for them so far. the next best thing he can do is pull some old information out of a hat, recalling that the hand lingering against him is a touch more sensitive than the rest of the cogs and bolts piecing him together. it's as good enough as a reason than any to shift his head a bit, gaze still settled where it should be all the while, before he brushes a plush, reddened pair of lips to his wrist, trailing them up by guiding his palm downward with the help of the light hold circling his joint. though he won't thread their fingers together like genos is so afraid to do, sonic will still slip into the silicone padding of a hand, pulling the appendage along to his opened mouth to teeth at the very cusp of metallic he finds there.

the hazy and curious yet encouraging expression will remain, as will his attention on genos, the tongue that slips past barely-visible teeth to press the flat of it up against firm steel. past that he'll stay where he is, needing to just breathe and keep himself from an overenthusiastic end to something that's just begun. ]

... [ this is way more than genos bargained for. sonic didn't even have to obey if he wasn't so inclined—he just wanted to see his face more properly, verify the lustful haze which surely mirrored his, and what he finds doesn't disappoint him. if anything it drives him madder, torn to bits from such simple movements he has to question if they're happening at all, not trusting the delicate pressure on the end of his finger, the wet rasp of a tongue which already knows too many things. shit. he didn't factor this in, how easily sonic could have catalogued all the little things to bring him to his knees when their activity record thus far has been few and far between. what else has he learned?

they won't be finding out for a while. just because the boy is being too careful doesn't mean he won't make any progress. on the contrary, he's so daring as to insistently press his fingertip a few centimeters inside, gleaming eyes targeting that pair of luscious lips, the pale pink tongue peeking out underneath. he's got half a mind to resume occupying himself with those for the better part of an hour (maybe two), but refrains, knowing more titillating lies in store for them from here. greed is one of several unmentioned flaws genos bears, actively choosing not to exploit it here and now. perhaps it too will be added to the collection of near-future possibilities.

focusing on the present moment, however, might be for the best. his mouth shapes a near-silent yes hissed out from his teeth, head tilted to the side as he watches the show. his other hand never falters, loosely rolling the skin nestled into his fist as he pulls to and fro, monitoring the rhythm of sonic's hips as close as he can but never quite matching them one hundred percent. he's highly trained, probably has a stamina that could put sensei's to shame, yet is equally loathe to see this conclude anytime soon when they've only just flung most of their clothing to the floor. speed may be in the man's name, but that isn't how genos wants to approach it. he never has, most likely won't until they both know what to get out of one another and satisfy in the most efficient manner possible.

genos still has a long way to go. ]

[ when it comes to getting off, sonic's absolutely less about speed and more about technique. this is one of the many things they'd argued about before in their fighting style: genos prefers brute strength and a precision that comes with it, whereas sonic is all about being quick and precise in the swiftest way possible. the one thing they match each other in is the carelessness that sometimes takes over in the heat of battle, whether it be from an out of control temper or other factors that press them to their limits and beyond. at least those worries aren't predominant in the bedroom (or living room, as it is currently) with the pair. the ninja enjoys a prolonged performance, pushing himself to not spasm and lose control so easily; it's a delectable madness he's willing to accept if there's an eventual end in sight.

for now he can concentrate on the road to bigger and better things. unfortunately, he's starting to slowly spiral away from a coherent state once genos slips further inside the hot cavern of his mouth, unabashedly moaning around them when fist and pelvis meet in the middle between a rougher slide. when the slow crawl comes to a stop, sonic takes matters into his own hands—quite literally as he's snaking long, thin fingers around a thick wrist to guide the man's fingers inward until the base of two knuckles rests at his lips. he's done this before, has shown him just how tantalizing such a simple act can be, but the cheeky villain doesn't think his friend would mind one bit if he did a repeat performance, going so far as to pull them out and invite a third addition inside.

he's still staring, though, likes the expression of hunger on genos's face, the way his eyes shine and overpower the blackness surrounding them. there's something so damn good about how he looks when he's heated, whether it's from exchanging blows in a fight or primal instincts formed into arousal. both of those sometimes go hand in hand, idly wondering if he'd later like to hear how seeing him duke it out earlier reminded sonic how hungry he was for those rough, cold hands on his person. if he hadn't been so inclined to allow the hero retain his dignity in the light of day, sonic would have been more than happy to drop to his knees and show him how much the raw energy affected him.

it's probably for the best that they waited, though. throwing caution into the wind like that would have fanned the flames too much, too soon. they're actions that can be considered at another time and place. ]

[ how dare him. he knows exactly what he's doing to genos, and he's not going to let him get away. not that he'd want to, poised over sonic like this, held up by little more than the weight of his rocket-powered legs bent at the knee. he doesn't have enough limbs or time in the day to do everything he's aspiring to, and it fuels just as much carnal frustration as it does the loss of his second finger, then the third. can he risk a fourth? shoving his entire hand into sonic's mouth, down his throat is nothing short of impractical; not to mention he'd lose out on the sensitivity of each individual digit, and isn't that part of the point of why he's wrecking him so? as an added bonus it does spring to mind other...apparatuses he could be putting in there. someday, someday. when he's bigger and better he'll—

—oh. oh, no. that mental image isn't really helping matters...

four fingers it is, if only for the look on sonic's face, both for now and for when they pop out unceremoniously, shuddering at the filthy sound and the strings of saliva sticking to them, and switching hands so he can rut into something slicker, dirtier. the firm weight of a cybernetic palm and the indentation for his cannons keeps sonic's midsection rooted to the floor, using his superior size as an advantage. he's ready to retreat at a moment's notice, but he'd like to see him in an utterly helpless position at least once. never mind that he'd love to return the favor sometime, although probably not before this is all over.

the evening is young, yet genos's restraint is nowhere near as long. he's turning his head to the side now to spare sonic from the worst of his exhaust, snorting it into the pillow between them like dragon's smoke. ] You feel so good in my hand— [ mindless praise, meaningless babble, but it bursts forth from him without a second thought. there are many other aspects of sonic's being he'd love to elaborate on if he could just catch his breath for a couple of minutes, which doesn't seem to be in the cards for him. maybe that's how it should be, lest he nauseates him too severely. ]

[ if he didn't just have four fingers shoved half-way down his throat, sonic might have been so inclined to gurgle out some amusement, go so far as to continue the descent with no struggle involved. as it stands, genos'll beat him to the punch, something that's there and gone in an instant once that hand is put to better use. it was an expected course of action on behalf of a smoother slide against sensitive flesh, though knowing sonic he wouldn't have complained if the tiniest bit of uncomfortable friction surfaced, unless it became less appealing and more disgruntling. leave it to genos to guide him into a more fevered frenzy with one right move, reluctantly breaking eye contact as his head cranes back before letting out a moan that starts out low, increasing in pitch once he realizes the crushing grip at his waist ceases any animated movements on his end.

feeling helpless in everyday life has no appeal to him. too many times in the past did he experience such a sensation, tacked on as one of many reasons as to why his goal to be the fastest man alive came to be. although it's not prominent, the sentiments still remain all the same... except here, that is, in the throes of passion, where almost anything goes as long as there's an unspoken consent involved. not that sonic doesn't foresee genos taking a pause to ask if absolutely necessary, extend some civility to a man that he's courting—that's what it is, isn't it? never has he been asked out on a date, been pursued in an entirely different fashion than he's used to, whether there's sexual intentions involved or not. this tames the otherwise flighty ninja to some degree, just enough to even stop and consider how deep this thing they have between them runs.

will he finally cave in and agree to whatever the cyborg's cooked up in his very human mind? if he keeps working him so sweetly, maybe, which thankfully doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.

considering how deprived he was becoming, it's satisfactory for genos to keep on pumping at his shaft, move about with flicks and strokes that sonic assumes is used on a manufactured appendage when his friend's all by his lonesome. that's all well and good, he doesn't particularly have any methods in this area that gets him off without any other help involved, though he can't deny how strangely satisfying it is to be buried from tip to base when there's such enthusiasm coming from the person that's doing all the work. which is why it's so easy to be reduced to needy whines, matching genos's babbling with some of his own. ] I want— [ hitches out a stuttering breath, scrambling to grip at an impossibly solid back to steady himself as he tries in vain to spread his thighs wider still. ] God, fuck me, please—

[ in what manner he speaks of doesn't matter all that much. genos could continue what he's doing currently and it would be just fine until he crosses the final stretch, but sonic's mind is growing too fuzzy, too quickly for even someone like him to dial it back, cease any chatter before it's too late. at least they both know his track record of yammering is a trait that doesn't stop even when he's being handled sensually. ]