To anybody else, Genos’ day would have appeared normal and mundane. He had gotten up, cleaned himself, gone to the store for a sale with his Master, walked home, made lunch, done house chores, made dinner. But appearances were deceiving, and Genos had seen the difference. He had seen how his Master had woken up looking refreshed today. He had heard him hum a few off-key notes through the bathroom door while he bathed. He had felt his Master’s gaze on him as they had scoured aisles for good deals. When his Master had given him his share of the grocery bags, Saitama’s pinky finger had lingered for almost half a second against his own. And when Saitama had thanked him for the meal, he had one of his rare, tiny, warm genuine smiles.
Genos hadn’t said anything about it, but it made him nearly beside himself with joy. His Master’s apathy and, yes, depression, so rarely loosened its icy grip on him. To see that smallest of smiles on his lips made Genos want to kiss those lips as if he could have tasted the happiness on them, but he refrained. He didn’t want to impose on his Master. Oh, they had kissed before, a few times, but they had never gone further despite Genos’ brain still flooding his mechanical body with hormones. He respected his Master too much to force the issue.
Thus, when Genos finished the dishes and saw his Master taking out the futon, he could have slapped himself. Was he dreaming? Or was his Master just tired?
“Genos,” Saitama called, in a voice 13.5% softer than usual, after lying down on the thin mattress and thick blanket. “Let’s watch a movie.”
“Sure, Master.” Genos came out of the kitchen to sit by his Master, beside the futon. He found it strange when his Master stopped channel surfing for a movie by settling on a cooking show, but entirely forgot about it once his Master put his hand over his lightly. He licked his lips as he looked slightly away, despite not being physically able to flush bright red.
“Are you okay, Genos?”
“I’m perfectly fine!” Genos then cringed. That had ben much too abrupt. “I’m… I’m okay,” he corrected himself, turning his hand to take Saitama’s in his as he looked at his face for signs of rejection.
Instead, his Master smiled. “Lie down with me.”
Genos swallowed. The normally soft whirr of his core in his ears was deafening as he slowly unfolded to lie down on his back next to his Master. Saitama pressing his soft lips to the round end of one of his broad shoulders did not help quiet down the troublesome source of energy. Genos let off a soft sigh as he turned his head toward his Master. To his great surprise, Saitama moved in closer and kissed him on the lips, mouth barely open. He was too stunned to do anything but stare, even after his Master moved his head back.
Therefore, Saitama leaned in and kissed him again, just as softly and just as chastely. “You don’t like?” he asked with a small frown as he pulled back a second time.
Genos immediately buried his face in Saitama’s shoulder, as if his mechanical body allowed him to blush. “I love it,” he whispered, afraid of breaking the spell if he raised his voice. He never wanted today, this hour, this minute to ever end. Saitama’s fingers combed through his synthetic hair, and Genos shivered in delight.
“Me too.” Slowly, giving Genos time to run away, Saitama moved on top of Genos, dragging the thick blanket with a heart pattern on top of both of them, TV forgotten.
Genos did not run away. Genos could not run away. He was transfixed by the soft, pleased look in Saitama’s eyes. He reacted only when Saitama kissed his neck, right under his ear, and only to rest his hands in the small of Saitama’s back.
“Kinda wanna…” Saitama breathed against Genos’ neck, letting the words hang in the warm air.
With a nod, Genos agreed. He knew Saitama’s libido barely existed. He felt incredibly loved that Saitama would be comfortable enough to share this time with him, and incredibly privileged. “Kinda wanna too… Saitama.”
Saitama responded with a small, pleased moan, and Genos brought his master’s hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. Saitama did the same, then kissed each metallic fingertip, then the deadly opening of the flamethrower in Genos’ palm.
Genos had difficulty swallowing. He was nineteen now, almost an adult, but before this cybernetic body he had only known the touch of his own hand. He had had never regretted this fact until now, nor the fact that he had no appendage or hole for his master to play with. And yet, the firm touch of Saitama’s palms rubbing over the plates of his pecs, over his core, made him shiver all the same. A moan escaped him as Saitama’s bulging crotch pressed against the smooth metal of his groin. Saitama’s lips found his again, and they kissed again, deeply, wrapped in eacher other’s arms, their combined breathing deafening under the blanket.
When Saitama stopped kissing him, breathing shallow, Genos nearly panicked; however, at the sight of the wet stain spreading across the front of Saitama’s boxers, and most importantly the look of pure bliss on Saitama’s face, Genos shook underneath him, letting out a strangled cry of surprise and pleasure as he came, hot white heat spreading through his body. He heard Saitama laugh in joy above him right before the latter moved in for yet another kiss, grabbing him in a tight, shaky hug, in which they remained until they decided to go wash.