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Oh god, he’s still in his suit.
He’s still in his suit and Genos has nothing on but his hoodie. It was a lounging outfit. With his Sensei gone and his scent still lingering on the worn, red material, he took the chance to slip it on. The cuffs of the sleeves fell daintily over his fingertips, the hood fit draped over his head, and the hem reached slightly over his thighs. He thought that maybe he’d be told to give the hoodie back, to put some pants on in the least. Instead his arms, sleeves hanging baggily across them, were taken in large, gloved hands and his back was pushed against the nearest wall.
Saitama looked him in the eyes once, silent consent exchanged between a simple glance before Genos tensed momentarily, heaved up with his thighs resting perfectly over broad shoulders. A swipe of the tongue against his paneling and the plate slid aside. Genos gasped quietly, watching Saitama nuzzle his nose beneath the hem of his own hoodie and deliver a gentle lap to his slickening entrance. The cyborg’s hands moved up to his face, crimson coloring his cheeks to match the sleeves over his fingers. Saitama held his quivering thighs, thick fingers skillfully tracing seams and vents, a rough growl falling from lips and directly into the cyborg.
“Haah, Sensei…~” Genos whimpered, arching his back off the wall and rolling his hips slowly, a high moan tumbling off his tongue when Saitama brushed his teeth over his clit. The room suddenly felt too hot. Genos could feel the steam from his vents trapped beneath the material of the hoodie. He reached for the hem, panting weakly and fingers shaking before Saitama’s hand enclosed around his wrist. The man looked up, brows drawn down, eyes feral, and voice thick with lust. “Don’t,” he rumbled lowly.
Genos had no choice but to obey.
He swallowed a whine, squeaking slightly when he was shifted down again and onto wobbly legs. Saitama turned him around and Genos rested his forehead to the wall, humming approvingly and lifting his hips as Sensei’s larger form pressed against him. His balanced wavered when a warm hand found its way between his thighs, fingers still encased in red leather slipping between wet folds and thumb rolling over his swollen nub. Saitama held him up, face nestled against Genos’ neck where he breathed him in and Genos felt so safe at every exhale.
The cyborg mewled softly, pressing onto the thick finger pushing into him and bringing one hand down to stroke Saitama’s knuckles. The leather was near textured, stimulating nodes within him and making his legs shake when Sensei’s fingertips brushed those most sensitive. Genos shuddered, Saitama’s free hand slipping below the hoodie to rest against his chest, slowly trailing the dips of vents and biolights. Genos bit his bottom lip, moving his own hand up to clasp his Sensei’s as well.
“Don’t ever take this fucking thing off.”
Genos blinked widely, gasping sharply when Saitama pulled his fingers from him and his thigh pushed between his legs. He heard the sound of a zipper and he could have sobbed in relief when Saitama pressed his cock into him. “Sensei-” “Wearing that… What were you trying to do, Genos?” It’s a sincere question and the truth that Genos merely found his way into his Sensei’s favorite hoodie for comfort and actually revealing his biggest turn on sounded quite far fetched if said aloud.
He played coy instead. “D-Do you like this, Saitama Sensei?” Genos moaned, relishing in the feeling of the metal of Saitama’s belt against his back and the material of his suit brushing over his ass and the backs of his thighs. Saitama released a low rumble and Genos sighed when teeth grazed the white cables of his neck. “Mmh… It makes me feel so safe, Sensei, like you’re here with me even while on patrol…”
Maybe he could tease a bit.
A sudden thrust had him against the wall again, his chest heaving and faced flushed with heat at the fullness, the warmth. Genos bit his bottom lip, bracing his hands against the thin wall and rolling his hips back. “T-The size reminds me of how big you are, S-Sensei… H-How big you are compared to me and how strong your body is…” Another thrust and Genos’ knees buckled. Saitama held him up firmly, groaning against Genos’ shoulder, biting the hood lightly.
The cyborg whimpered, already overwhelmed by such sensations. “I-I… Sensei, when I-” He was starting to get flustered, a truth he held in for so long spilling from his lips. “W-When you first allowed me to stay here- aaah… When I-I did your laundry, I-I, oh gods, Saitama I couldn’t stop myself…” Saitama moved his hands over his sides, one slipping further down to gently stroke his clit, further encouragement. “I had your hoodie with me!” he cried out and Saitama abruptly turned him around on his cock, pushing Genos further into the wall and bringing his arms over his shoulders.
“Tell me,” he snarled, bumping their foreheads together and rewarding Genos with a fierce kiss. Genos gasped when he pulled away, his eyes wide, so shy, yet so honest. “I fucked myself, Sensei,” he whimpered, mewling in response to a wild buck and feral growl, clenching tightly around Saitama’s cock, a gush of lubricant coating his walls and dripping down his thighs. “I took your hoodie and pretended you were here with me- It smelled so strongly of you, Sai, I couldn’t stop myself and I came on your futon- I couldn’t stop…”
Genos groaned when Saitama kissed him again, hard. Their teeth clicked slightly and Genos absolutely melted in that strong hold, firm thrusts and frenzied bucks rocking him against the wall, his legs quaking around Saitama’s waist. “S-Saitama!” he wailed, curling in and clutching the man close, fingers digging into his white cape. “Open up,” was growled into his ear. His chastity piece slid aside and his hard, neglected cock was taken into a warm gloved hand and pumped once, twice before Genos came hard.
Thick streams of cum coated his Sensei’s hoodie while lubricant drenched his thighs and Saitama’s suit as he clenched tightly around him in orgasm. Genos panted hard, eyes fluttering open just in time to watch Saitama, his teeth clenched and thick brows knitted as he spilled deep, filling the cyborg to the brim and growling his name roughly, sweat dripping down his skin and face flushed in pleasure. Genos moaned quietly, leaning back against the wall and stroking his hands weakly over Saitama’s head.
Genos relaxed, nearly overheated and mind completely blank other than the fact that Saitama was still hard and pulsing within him. Realization struck him that it was probably because he was still wearing this cursed hoodie. “Never take this off,” he barely heard Saitama groan, nuzzling his face against Genos’ chest, right over the oshiri symbol.
“I can’t fucking believe you’d tell me that while you’re wearing the damn thing…” his words began to slur and Genos sighed contently, purring while Saitama murmured how hard they’d have to scrub to get cum and lube off their clothes while he carried Genos through the apartment, still on his dick, until they were both on the futon.
Maybe he should wait to tell Sensei how hot he looks in his suit and that he should never take it off.