“Sorry I’m hard, Sensei,” Genos apologized as he sat with Saitama pressed against his body for warmth on a crisp morning.
Saitama chuckled. “Oh, me too.”
“My body is made of a steel alloy,” Genos continued, “and isn’t very comf—what?”
Saitama shut his gaping mouth and pretended to be hyperfocused on the morning newspaper.
For a long moment, Genos was too stunned to move. He, well, hadn’t thought about being understood that way, and even less about the possibility that his master could have gotten excited just from being held close. True, he had him sitting with his back against his front, his legs on either side of his and his arms around his chest, but… He reached down and pressed two fingers to Saitama’s crotch.
Saitama hadn’t lied. He shivered at the touch. When Genos pressed his palm to Saitama’s covered erection, Saitama peeked at Genos over his shoulder. He looked a bit petulant, but didn’t tell Genos to stop.
After a moment of immobility, Genos shifted slightly and slipped a hot hand beneath Saitama’s pj pants to stroke him. It didn’t make Saitama put the newspaper down, but it did make him tighten his grip on it with a small grunt.
“Sensei, I hope my body is good enough for…”
“It’s perfect,” Saitama managed to get through gritted teeth. Genos’ hand was warm, very warm, and on a cold morning like today it was more than welcome. He lay back against Genos’ torso to soak in more of the warmth and spread his legs under the kotatsu to allow Genos more space to work, so to speak.
With the tiniest of smile, Genos rested his chin on the shoulder of his Master. He stroked him until he he had his entire body trembling and nearly slipping out of his grip, until he had him limp and spent beneath his warm fingers.
“Genos,” Saitama breathed out as he looked up at him in a mellow daze, “are you wearing any attachment today?”
“I’m not usually wearing one.”
“Go get whichever you want. I think you’re hard.”
“Well I am made of…” He paused when he saw Saitama grinning at him. “R-right.”