Work Text:
It’s a well-known fact that alcohol consumption lowers inhibitions, but what does that really mean?
Movies and television would have you believe it means getting enough drinks into a person will turn them into a fearless superhuman who will follow their Id to hell and back and damn the consequences. In reality, that’s just not true.
(Except in the case of certain mixed drinks or one too many bottles of Jagermeister. But I digress).
Lowered inhibitions aren’t the same as “uninhibited.” When a person’s inhibitions are lowered it means that they are more willing to act on impulses they otherwise keep in check. If you’ve been secretly wanting to buy that pair of $200 shoes but have been prudent enough to save your money for necessities like food and rent, Mr. Alcohol is there to tell you, “Go ahead. It’s just $200, and it’s only one time.”
Of course, Mr. Alcohol can also be the angel on your shoulder who says, “Now’s the day, buddy. You’ve wanted to ask Suzy out on a date for months. Go for it! You’ve got this!”
The point is that lowering one’s inhibitions isn’t the same as getting rid of them entirely. Odds are if you have never been inclined to toilet paper your neighbor’s house you’re not going to suddenly have the urge to do that very thing JUST because you’re drunk. The initial impulse needs to be there for it to be acted upon.
All of which is just a lengthy way of saying that the esper sisters of the Hero Association must have really, REALLY wanted to have sex with Saitama and his disciple, because it didn’t really take much sake at all before the duo were flinging themselves through the bald hero’s apartment door, deliciously buzzed and looking to fuck.
#############
“You and me, Baldy!” Tatsumaki barked, slurring just a little bit as she stabbed a finger in Saitama’s direction and fixed him with a penetrating stare. “Naked, your bed, NOW.”
Saitama blinked at the small, glowing woman who was floating in front of him and listing ever so slightly to the left. “Eh?”
“You heard me!” The petite esper was already shrugging out of her usual black gown. “I’m sick of all this sexual tension between us!”
“We have that?”
“YES!” Her dress was stuck half off one shoulder as she leaned further into his personal space and began tugging at his hoodie. “Grrr… Get naked already! You have a beautiful, slightly inebriated woman throwing herself at you. Act like it matters!”
To say Saitama was surprised wouldn’t really be accurate. Well that’s not true; he was positively floored, but in a pleasant way. Tatsumaki had always given him the impression she was a hair's breadth away from murdering him where he stood, and he’d been happy to give her space as a result. No skin off his back. He was pretty sure she couldn’t actually kill him, but why risk it?
But maybe she didn’t hate him? Maybe all that hostility was this sexual tension she was talking about? She was cute, and pale and tiny, and really strong, mentally and physically, all of which were things he liked in a woman. He’d just never really thought of her in that way before, mostly because of the whole murderous rage aspect of her personality. Now that she was forcing him to look at her with fresh eyes… well…
He was liking what he saw.
He batted her hands away as she fussed with his hoodie; she must have forgotten she could just rip his clothes off with her telekinesis. “You sure about this?” he asked, yanking the sweatshirt over his head and throwing it aside.
Tatsumaki’s eyes sparkled as she watched him, and she started yanking at her own dress again. “Absolutely,” she agreed, nodding eagerly.
“Because you’re kinda drunk.”
“I am not DRUNK. I’m TIPSY. There’s a difference.” She crowed with delight as she finally succeeded in shoving her gown down off her shoulders to her hips and proceeded to kick it away. That left her in a pair of small, black silk panties and nothing else, because let’s be honest, there wasn’t enough going on up top to warrant a bra.
Saitama didn’t mind, though. As soon as her dress was off his eyes had latched onto her small but somehow perfectly proportioned breasts. “Oh wow,” he mumbled, his hands frozen on the hem of his t-shirt.
The esper grinned and floated closer. “You like?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You want to touch?”
“Uh-huh.”
Tatsumaki nuzzled his cheek and brushed her lips against his temple.
“THEN HURRY UP AND GET NAKED ALREADY!” she bellowed, making him jump.
With a huffy toss of her hair Tatsumaki floated away and flung herself down onto Saitama’s messy futon, wiggling until she found a comfortable position among his blankets.
The bald hero felt something tighten in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the petite woman nestled in his futon. “This is way better than Mario Kart at King’s place,” he muttered, stripping off the rest of his clothes in record time and throwing himself down with her.
##################
Meanwhile…
“Fubuki-san, this is highly inappropriate.”
“Just call me Fubuki, Genos-kun.”
“I don’t feel that would be wise, Fubuki-san.”
While Tatsumaki had been zeroed in on Saitama for months, her sister Fubuki had only begun to take notice of the bald hero’s cyborg sidekick recently. In her defense she was a busy woman. Being the top hero in Class B with a whole cadre of dedicated peons to look after wasn’t as easy as baking a cake. There were roster schedules to prepare and approve, bonuses to dole out, rewards to bestow, and of course the everyday work of being one of the top heroes in any class. Romance was just not in the cards most days of the week.
In fact it was Tatsumaki’s growing obsession with the Caped Baldy that had finally put Genos on Fubuki’s radar. Her older sister didn’t have many (read, any) friends to whom to vent, which meant Fubuki had taken the brunt of her sister’s whining about the stupid, bald-headed eggplant who was making her life a living hell; all of which the Blizzard of Hell interpreted as “there’s this really cute guy at work I want to fuck, Fubuki, but I’m too much of an emotional shut-in to be able to handle it, so I’m going to pretend I hate him instead.”
Never let it be said Fubuki didn’t speak fluent Tatsumaki-ese.
After a few dozen phone calls and text exchanges about Saitama, Fubuki had begun really paying attention to him. Sure, she’d scoped him out early in his tenure with the Association, and they’d even hung out at various times, but she’d never really paid attention to him. It was always more about his aura and, in a way, the other people who seemed to gravitate to the bald hero like iron filings to a magnet.
One of those people was Genos, the Demon Cyborg.
Fubuki knew Genos, but she’d never really paid him much attention, either, except as “that S class cyborg who calls the bald guy his sensei.” Once she began paying more attention to Saitama, though, she naturally found herself paying more attention to Genos.
Soon, she started paying more attention to Genos than to Saitama.
First and foremost, his devotion to his sensei was absolute. As someone who valued loyalty Fubuki found it charming, as much as Saitama probably found it annoying. It was in holding with the cyborg’s overall character, though, since he never seemed to do anything by half measures. When he attacked it was full force. When he spoke it was with utter precision (to the point that he tended to talk TOO much). He was brutally honest, but never cruel. The only time she’d seen him react in anger was when someone insulted his sensei, or when he got to talking about the monster that had destroyed his home. Unlike Fubuki, who thrived in the murky waters of politics and interpersonal relationships that kept the Hero Association afloat, Genos lived in a world of perfect clarity. It was refreshing and, frankly, attractive.
And of course there was the fact he was a 19 year old robotic Adonis with a mop of blond hair, a pair of intoxicating golden eyes, and a sizeable bulge in his trousers that was either a fully functioning penis or some cybernetic attachment that would probably serve the same purpose. Those were all attractive, too.
Currently she had him backed against the counter beside the kitchen sink. He was wearing an apron with “Kiss the Cook!” emblazoned across the front in red cursive lettering, which she found oddly apropos.
“Genos, do you think I’m beautiful?” she asked.
Fubuki could almost hear the gears whirring in his head as Genos stared at her. “Of course, Fubuki-san. You are very beautiful.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I think you’re very handsome.”
“Thank you, Fubuki-san.”
“I would like to have sex with you, Genos.”
The cyborg tilted his head in confusion. “I don’t understand, Fubuki-san.”
“I told you, Genos. Call me Fubuki.” She stroked a hand down his cheek. “You’re nineteen, Genos, aren’t you?”
“That’s right, Fubuki-sa… Fubuki.”
Her smile widened. “Good boy. Did you ever have a girlfriend?”
“No, miss.”
“Have you ever wanted one?”
He frowned. “It has never occurred to me to want one.”
Fubuki clucked her tongue. “That’s a shame, Genos. You’re missing out on so many things. There’s more to life than hunting monsters and listening to your sensei.”
The expression on Genos’s face indicated he didn’t believe her. “I am a cyborg, Miss Fubuki. Most of my body has been replaced with cybernetic and robotic parts, to enable me to be a better, faster, stronger fighter. I am not built for… relationships.”
Fubuki let her hand slide down his throat - warm flesh under her fingertips -- before settling her hand on his chest. “Do you feel my touch, Genos?” she wondered.
He nodded. “I do.”
“Does it feel good?”
The cyborg was quiet for a moment, before answering, “It doesn’t feel not good.”
The esper laughed softly. “That’s an awkward way of saying it feels nice, don’t you think?”
For the first time since their interaction began, the cyborg seemed at a loss. “I am… not used to… expressing pleasant sensations. When Dr. Kuseno is repairing me, I generally tell him the level of pain I am feeling. I am more used to discussing pain.”
Fubuki felt a hot pang of sympathy in her throat. “That’s very sad, Genos,” she murmured, letting her hand move lower, curling her fingers with his. “I want to fix that. I want to help you learn the words for pleasure, not just pain.”
She brought his hand up and rested it on the side of her breast. The heat of his glowing palms warmed her skin through the thin fabric of her gown.
“Do you feel me, Genos?” she murmured, gently manipulating his fingers to squeeze her breast.
The cyborg was watching her with unblinking eyes, holding his body utterly still. “Yes,” he finally answered.
“What do I feel like?” She released his hand, pleased when he didn’t move it away but left it where she’d placed it.
“Soft,” he murmured.
“Mmm… Do I feel good?”
“...Yes.”
“Do you want to feel more?”
“Fubuki-san…”
“Genos.” Fubuki took his face between her palms and smiled. “Do you want to feel more? It’s okay. You can tell me.”
There was a nineteen year old’s brain in that cybernetic body, and it wasn’t stupid enough to turn down the opportunity to grope a beautiful woman with her consent. “Yes, Fubuki, I would,” he said.
The esper’s smile widened and she leaned forward, brushing her lips against his.
“Unzip me,” she whispered.
####################
Tatsumaki was in heaven, if a messy futon with a too-thin pillow could be considered heaven.
Beneath his baggy hero costume and usual mundane wardrobe, Saitama had the physique of a Greek god. As he plundered her mouth with his tongue the tiny esper dragged her fingers down his washboard abs, moaning as his chest rubbed her sensitive nipples. The mix of sensations was incredible; it was almost too much. The alcohol she’d consumed had left her with diminished telepathic barriers, meaning she could feel her own pleasure and the echoes of Saitama’s pleasure, all at the same time.
It was amazing.
“Oh… Oh God…,” she moaned, arching beneath him as Saitama began kissing down her neck. His lips seared her skin like a brand. “You feel so good.”
“You’re really soft,” Saitama mumbled into her throat. “Soft and small and warm. You’re like a fuckable plushie.”
Tatsumaki groaned and thumped him on the back with a fist. “That’s not sexy, Saitama,” she grumbled before biting her lip as his mouth left a wet trail across her collarbone.
“Sorry.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth and confetti exploded behind Tatsumaki’s eyeballs.
“HOLY SHIT…!” she gasped, pressing her hands on his shoulders. A hot silver thread of arousal arced from her nipple straight to her core, and it burned brighter as he sucked harder. In the background, dancing like a shadow, she felt the warmth of her nipple in Saitama’s mouth, the way he enjoyed how it pebbled on his tongue, how much he liked to hear her little yips and cries of pleasure. She could taste the salt of her own skin. The combination of direct and indirect stimulation was pushing her dangerously close to the edge.
“Oh God… I’m going to cum…,” she moaned, wiggling beneath him, not sure if she was searching for relief or respite. It was embarrassing how quickly and thoroughly he’d aroused her to this point. “Saitama, I’m… I’m really…!”
He hummed approvingly and the vibration sent her over the precipice. She squealed and pressed her knees together as her core spasmed.
The bald hero released her nipple with a disappointed sound. “Why’d you close up?” he asked, frowning as he pushed up on an elbow to look down their bodies at her clenched legs. “I wanted to feel that.”
“Too embarrassing,” Tatsumaki whined breathlessly.
“No it’s not,” Saitama protested, looking at her with calm eyes. “You’re sexy as hell, Tatsumaki. I want to make you cum like that a half dozen times tonight.”
If she’d been standing her knees would have gone weak. “Hontoni?”
“Mm-hmm.” He reached down and gently pried her knees apart. “No hiding, okay?”
Her thighs were sticky. Saitama was drawing pictures on her inner thighs with his nimble fingers, painting with her juices, and it was horribly embarrassing and painfully arousing at the same time.
“You smell really good,” the bald hero murmured. “I really want to taste you.” And he brought a wet finger to his mouth to suck it clean.
Fuck it, Tatsumaki decided. I’m all in.
She spread her legs wider and sat up, forcing Saitama up onto his knees between her legs. “My turn,” she purred, wiggling onto all fours and dipping down like a cat to drag her tongue the full length of his penis, from base to tip.
Saitama’s thighs corded in her peripheral vision, and she felt his hand rest solidly on her tailbone. “Shit…,” he gasped.
He was salty and hot on her tongue, and the frisson of pleasure that coursed through her blood at the telepathic echo of Saitama’s appreciation made her own arousal begin to build all over again. The bald hero was big -- long and thick -- but not unmanageably so. When she wrapped her mouth around the head of his cock and gave it an exploratory suck she almost blacked out from the sensory feedback Saitama sent her way.
“Holy holy holy shit,” he wheezed, one hand squeezing her hip while the other fisted in the blankets, white knuckled.
Pleased with this reaction, Tatsumaki began slowly swallowing him inch by inch, taking him a little deeper with each pull of her lips. Colors swirled in her vision as Saitama hardened and thickened even further on her tongue, the pleasure he was getting from her mouth translating to a technicolor rainbow of arousal thanks to her telepathy. She felt her sex start to gape a little in sympathy, liquid leaking down her thighs in preparation. She moaned, wiggling her hips in search of some relief.
“Ah… Hai,” Saitama croaked, and suddenly she was FULL as two long fingers slid into her sheath and scissored apart.
The esper pulled away hurriedly, choking a little as Saitama slid from her throat. “Oh my God!” she cried, pressing back against his hand and shaking. “What… what are you…?”
“You sounded really desperate,” Saitama responded, looking crestfallen that she’d pulled herself away from his dick so suddenly. “I was just trying to help. Sorry.”
“No no, don’t apologize.” She bit her lip, rocking her hips and moaning as his fingers continued to move idly inside her, poking and exploring without any defined purpose. “I’m… I’m gonna… go back now…”
“Hontoni?” Saitama’s eyes lit up again. “Okay. I’m gonna keep doing this, all right?”
Tatsumaki didn’t answer, slumping forward and taking him back into her mouth, swallowing him as deep as she could in one go. With his fingers inside her and his dick in her mouth, she started to rock her body back and forth, enjoying the dual penetration entirely too much but not giving a damn.
“So hot,” Saitama mumbled, his voice tight. “You’re so hot, Tatsu. I love how your mouth looks around my cock. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
The esper’s internal muscles fluttered in response. She was already verging on a second orgasm, and she moaned in delirium as he wedged a third finger into her already full sheath.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum, Tatsu,” Saitama groaned. “You cum, too. I want to feel how hard you squeeze. You’re already so tight, Tatsu. How much tighter do you get? Fuck fuck fuck… here I go… fuck…!”
His free hand left the blankets and went to the back of her head, holding her lightly in place as he shot hot, thick spurts of cum down her throat. A wave of unrelenting pleasure rolled over Tatsumaki like molten honey, a mix of Saitama’s and her own, and before she knew it she was coming again, spreading her knees wider as her body gripped his invading digits and sucked them deeper with each glorious, mind-blowing pulse.
Why the hell had she waited so long to do this with him?
###############
On the other side of the apartment, Fubuki was asking herself much the same question. Why did I take so long to have sex with a walking, talking vibrator? she wondered, arching her back and moaning as Genos dragged his buzzing fingers down her side to cradle her ass.
“Genos,” she whimpered, curling her own fingers into his blonde hair and holding his head tight against her breast. His mouth was latched onto her nipple, his nose pressed into the soft flesh of her breast as he sucked hard, like he was trying to make up for lost time. “Touch me.”
The cyborg released her nipple and grazed his mouth up her throat to press against her ear. “Where shall I touch you, Fubuki?”
She growled and clawed one hand down his back, feeling the hard planes of smooth metal beneath his shirt. “You know exactly where.”
Fubuki felt him hum, the vibration sending shivers down her spine as his hand grazed further back, skimming the crack of her ass before teasing against her swollen sex. “Shall I touch you here, Fubuki?”
The esper pressed her face into the side of his neck, moaning into the wires and metallic tendons. “More,” she begged softly, clinging to his rigid physique. His fingers buzzed and hummed against her sensitive flesh.
She whined in complaint as he drew his hand away, only to cry out with relief when he returned -- this time from the front -- sliding his index finger deep into her sheath as his vibrating thumb pressed firmly on her clit.
“Oh God… Yes…!” Fubuki exclaimed, arching her back again and rolling her hips in his lap.
Fubuki was aware of Genos’s golden eyes on her, watching with burning intensity, no doubt memorizing her reactions for future study. “You are flushed and sweaty, Fubuki,” he observed, wrapping his free arm around her waist to keep her from tipping over backward in her frenzied state. “Your heart rate has skyrocketed and you have begun to surrender muscle control. Are you truly enjoying how I’m touching you?”
The esper managed to open her eyes, fixing him with a lusty gaze. “Genos, you have your hand vibrating in my pussy,” she panted. “If I wasn’t enjoying it, I’d have ripped you into a dozen pieces with my brain and thrown you out the window by now.”
She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his chest and brushing her lips against his mouth. “Are you enjoying it?” she whispered breathlessly.
Their eyes locked -- green and gold -- and for a moment neither said a word. Then suddenly the vibrations in Fubuki’s sheath increased exponentially and the heat from Genos’s robotic body flared, illuminating their cramped corner of the kitchenette in vibrant orange.
“I’m enjoying it very much, Fubuki,” he agreed, holding her tight as she shrieked with fresh pleasure. He wiggled a second robotic finger into her sheath as his pinkie extended with a soft whir and prodded delicately at her virgin asshole. “Shall I continue?”
Fubuki dug her fingers into his hard shoulders and nodded vigorously.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” she gasped.
#################
“Your robot buddy better not be doing anything weird with my sister,” Tatsumaki mumbled as Saitama helped her stretch out on his blankets again. She whined when he made to sit up, pulling him back down beside her.
“Eh? Fubuki’s here?” Saitama raised his head, looking around what he could see of his apartment. “Where?”
“Of course she’s here, idiot. We came together. Didn’t you notice?”
“Eh? No. I only saw you.”
“Hmph. Like you could miss my sister, with her boobs out to here,” Tatsumaki huffed, rounding her hands over her own minimal chest as she mimicked her sister’s curvier silhouette.
Saitama frowned at her. “Why would I care about Fubuki’s boobs?”
“Duh, because you’re a guy.”
“But… you’re here.”
“So?”
“You’re way cuter.”
The diminutive esper blinked at him in genuine surprise. “Eh?”
Saitama nodded. “You’re really cute, Tatsu. Not in, like, a loli way, but in an angry, green-haired tsundere esper kind of way. Now that I understand the whole sexual tension thing, I think it’s cute how you flirt with me by calling me names.”
Tatsumaki blushed a vivid shade of crimson. “I do not flirt with you, baldy!”
He grinned, and his face was suddenly devoid of its usual bland expression. He looked genuinely handsome.
“Yeah you do,” he teased. “Brat.”
“Ooh! Jellyfish!”
“Witch.”
“Egghead!”
“Obnoxious twerp.”
“Bald-headed simpleton!”
Saitama chuckled and laid a finger across her lips to silence her. “Can we stop the foreplay so I can have sex with you now?”
Tatsumaki felt her anger melt away as her stomach fluttered. “Okay.”
“Good.”
Then he was kissing her, and oh dear Lord, she forgot how to breathe. His muscular body rolled above her, a warm, masculine tent that dwarfed her petite frame. One hand hooked under her thigh, dragging her leg up around his waist, and she quickly followed suit with the other, latching her ankles above his tailbone.
“I don’t have any condoms,” Saitama murmured against her mouth.
Tatsumaki shook her head. “Don’t care. Just do it.”
“You sure?”
“Dammit, Saitama, I’ve got a telekinetic IUD, okay? Unless you’ve been fucking groupies on the regular and are dripping with STDs, just stick it in me already!”
“Have you?”
“Eh?”
“Been fucking groupies. I haven’t, because I don’t have any, so I’m clean. But what about you?”
Tatsumaki glared at him. “Are you asking if I’ve been sleeping around?”
He blinked at her. “It’s a valid question. You’re really popular.”
“NO! Okay, you big, bald-headed idiot? I have NOT been having sex with anyone else. I’ve been too obsessed with getting your hairless ass into bed, God knows why. You happy now? Are we past the interrogation portion of this -- AHH!”
“Your eyes get all shiny when you’re angry,” Saitama groaned as he pushed into her in one long, slow stroke. “It’s fucking sexy.”
His fingers had already stretched her and left her nice and wet, but taking Saitama’s full length and girth was still a little uncomfortable. It was a bit like being penetrated by the wide end of a baseball bat, which was the least sexual simile her brain could conjure in its lust-saturated state. It didn’t hurt, but it left her feeling strangely full, like an overstuffed turkey.
“Fuck, you’re really big,” she moaned, her fingernails digging into his back.
“Sorry,” he soothed, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Almost done.”
“I should frigging hope so, Slugger… Gawd…!”
“There,” Saitama sighed with relief, relaxing above her as she felt the warm, heavy weight of his balls against her ass. “All in. You okay?”
Besides feeling like she was bursting at the seams, she seemed more or less all right. “Just.. gimme a minute to adjust,” she flinched, trying to force her tensed muscles to loosen.
“Take your time.” Saitama brushed a kiss on the side of her neck. “Breathe.”
Easy for him to say. He didn’t have a solid rod of hot iron pushing his diaphragm into his throat.
That said, the combination of slow, deep breaths and Saitama’s murmured words of encouragement -- punctuated with the occasional kiss to some newly discovered erogenous zone on Tatsumaki’s neck and shoulders -- soon had her feeling less like a bloated holiday dinner and more like a human being with a long, glorious cock buried in her aching pussy.
Much better, she thought with an approving hum.
“Saitama,” she murmured, rolling her hips experimentally and feeling an answering flare of pleasure in her lower body.
He gripped her hip in a solid hand and held her still for a moment.
“How hard do you want me to go?” he asked, voice raspy as he fought to keep himself under control.
And that’s when Tatsumaki realized his self-control wasn’t quiteas effortless as she’d assumed. She could feel the way his body trembled as he repressed the urge to pound into her full force. His fingers spasmed faintly on her hip, and she knew she’d have finger shaped bruises by morning. Even that, she knew, was just an inkling of his full potential. Her bones would liquify under the full power of his grip strength.
She looped her arms around his neck and raised her head to kiss him softly as a green nimbus of translucent psionic energy formed around her body, hugging her like a second skin inside and out, hardening her bones and forming a protective barrier over everything else.
“Just don’t hammer me through the wall like a nail, Slugger,” she murmured into his mouth. “I’m not paying to fix your apartment because you couldn’t fuck me properly.”
Saitama grinned. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you properly, Tatsu.”
“Prove it.”
He clucked his tongue. “Tch. So demanding,” the bald hero teased, then pulled back slowly before slamming home with enough force to rattle the windows and knock a loose manga volume off his bookshelf.
“Gah!” Tatsumaki choked, arching beneath him as he repeated the move again, then again, steadily gaining speed until it felt like he was barely moving at all. His hips were rocking at such a rate that he was both buried to the hilt inside of her and withdrawn to just the tip at the same time. It was the first time Tatsumaki had ever fucked someone who moved so fast that she was actually making love to his dick’s after images, and it felt AMAZING.
“Yes… Yes yes yes, like that!” she cried, pawing and clawing at his back and arms.
“So tight, Tatsu,” Saitama groaned, pinning her hips down with one hand and holding himself up with the other as he plowed into her. “Fuck, tight and hot…!”
“You’re gonna split me in twoooo,” Tatsumaki groaned, not even trying to keep up with his thrusts, letting him take full control.
“Gonna feel so good when I do,” Saitama promised, burying his face in her throat and sucking a hickey over her pulse point.
Tatsumaki’s third orgasm crested out of the blue, and was followed almost immediately by the fourth. To be fair, Saitama’s pleasure was sky high as he buried himself inside her, and mixed with Tatsumaki’s own overwhelming arousal, her body just couldn’t hold out.
“YES!” she screamed, shuddering beneath him as he continued pounding into her. “Saitamaaa!”
Saitama groaned and dragged his mouth along her jaw. “Two more,” he growled. “I promised you half a dozen, ne? Gimme two more, Tatsu. Serious series: serious pelvic thrusts!” Incredibly, his thrusts sped up even more.
The esper keened desperately as the friction between them built to a crescendo. “I can’t!” she sobbed.
“Yes you can. The Tornado of Terror can do anything she wants.” He kissed her, short and brutal. “And she wants to come around my cock two more times.”
She did. She really, really did. Staring up at the ceiling she felt the fifth break over her, making her thighs vibrate and her stomach flex. “Oh gawwwd,” she groaned.
“I’m so close, Tatsu,” the bald man above her moaned near her ear. “You make me so hard. Every time you orgasm you squeeze me so tight. Your pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? We’re supposed to be like this, aren’t we?”
“Yes, oh fuck, yes!”
“Next time you’re gonna ride me, aren’t you? Cuz there’ll be a whole BUNCH of next times, won’t there?”
Like she was going to say no.
“Here I come… Fuck… Tatsu… I’m cumming…I’m cumming...”
He gritted his teeth and pushed up onto his knees, slamming his hips to a sudden stop and holding her pressed tight against his pelvis as he came, his rock hard cock gushing a flood of hot cum into her womb. The rush of heat and the blinding pleasure she got telepathically from Saitama pushed Tatsumaki over the edge again herself, and she thrashed wantonly in his tousled futon as green sparks showered from the tips of her fingers like fireworks. A flood of psionic energy blanketed the small apartment, knocking over his bookshelf and TV and spider webbing the glass in the sliding door that led to his deck.
Neither of them moved for a solid minute afterwards except to breathe. Tatsumaki gasped for air, feeling a bit like a beached fish. Saitama, much to the esper’s chagrin, was breathing easily, but he had his eyes closed and a small, dreamy smile on his face.
“That. Was. Awesome,” he sighed eventually.
Tatsumaki managed a breathless chuckle as the other hero lowered her hips back to the futon. “Yeah, I’m pretty great,” she agreed. “Consider yourself lucky you got to experience that, baldy.”
“I do,” he said, without a trace of irony. He stayed on his knees, just gazing down at her, his eyes impossibly soft. Tatsumaki felt herself blushing under the scrutiny.
“What?” she demanded, fighting the urge to curl in on herself protectively. “Do I have something on my face? Quit staring!”
Saitama’s smile widened. “After all we just did you’re feeling shy?”
“No! I just don’t like people staring at me.” She grabbed his arm and gave it a yank, urging him to lie down with her. “Anyway, I’m cold. You need better heat in this place.”
“It’s summertime, Tatsu.”
“Better air conditioning then.”
“How would that help you if you’re cold?”
“Quit being a smartass and just snuggle me, okay?”
“Y’know, you broke my door. You’re going to have to fix that.”
“I said I wasn’t going to fix your apartment, baldy.”
“You said you wouldn’t fix my apartment if I couldn’t fuck you properly. I kinda think that qualified as proper fucking.”
Tatsumaki growled and buried her face in his shoulder. “Shut up. I’m sleeping. Jerk.”
Saitama laughed.
###################
Fubuki was on fire despite being drenched with sweat.
Every single one of her holes was full. Genos had one finger in her ass, two in her pussy, and his tongue down her throat. His hand was still vibrating on an alternating frequency between her legs, bringing her within a hairsbreadth of orgasm before easing up and leaving her stranded at the edge over and over and over again. It was driving her crazy.
With a groan she pulled her mouth away from the cyborg’s. “Please!” she begged, hammering her fists weakly against his chest. “Fuck, Genos, make me cum!”
He stared at her with eyes like banked coals, then nodded. “Yes. I’d like to see that, Fubuki.”
Suddenly she was on her back and his hand was gone as he backed away and stood up. The unexpected loss of sensation left her feeling bereft. “G.. Genos?” she murmured, shakily trying to sit up.
“No. Stay, Fubuki.” Genos leaned back into view, the air around him lit in varying shades of blue and orange by his internal power sources. “I’ll be with you shortly.”
“What are you doing?” The world felt fuzzy, and Fubuki shook her head, trying to clear away the lust-addled cobwebs.
“You’re naked. It seems only appropriate that I should be, too.”
That got her attention. As attractive as Genos was while clothed, she couldn’t help wondering what exactly he looked like underneath it all. How much did he resemble a man, and how much a machine? To be honest, the thought of making love to a fully robotic man was thrilling, like something out of a dystopian romance novel. With eager eyes she watched him shed his usual sleeveless t-shirt, then unzip and remove his jeans.
Sleek. That was the first word that came to mind as Fubuki’s eyes raked up and down Genos’s body. Dr. Kuseno had done a masterful job crafting humanoid parts out of chrome, zinc, titanium and other alloys, all lit from within with pulsing blue and orange light; his electric blood. The major muscle groups were all formed from sheaths of slippery, burnished metal, with the joints and tendons revealed to be wires, cables, and multi-hued cybernetic ribbons. His chest was largely open, exposing the bright blue power core that she’d come to associate with the cyborg’s heart.
He was glorious.
As the esper’s eyes moved downwards, she lingered on his hips, and the sizeable robotic… well… penis that was folded back against his body. While she watched it extended to an almost perfect ninety degree angle, whirring faintly and pulsing with the same blue light that powered the rest of his body.
Fubuki blushed. “What is that for?” she wondered aloud.
“Dr. Kuseno felt it was important for my cyborg form to mimic a human body as closely as possible,” he explained. “As with a human body, this is used for waste disposal and sanitation.” He wrapped his robotic fingers around the metallic organ. “It is also full of significantly more sensors and touch receptors than other parts of my body, though Dr. Kuseno didn’t explain the reasons for that. Since it is generally out of the way and protected by other parts of my body, this extra sensitivity isn’t a hardship.”
Significantly more sensors and touch receptors, eh? Sounded like Dr. Kuseno intended that particular organ for more activities than JUST waste disposal and sanitation. “He tried to make you into a real boy,” she said with a fond smile. “Like Gepetto with Pinocchio, only with fewer blue fairies and more genitalia.”
Genos blinked at her in confusion. “I don’t understand, Fubuki.”
Grinning, she gestured for him to join her on the floor. “I’ll show you,” she promised. “Come here.”
The cyborg lowered himself to his knees in front of her. Fubuki brushed his hand away from the gleaming, faintly textured metal of his robotic member and replaced it with her own. Her warm fingers wrapped around the appendage, squeezing gently.
Genos sucked in a sharp breath, and his pupils constricted in surprise before slowly widening again.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” the esper purred. She raised her hand to her mouth long enough to lick her palm a few times before returning it to the task at hand, which was giving the cyborg a quality handjob. “You’ve never tried this with yourself?”
Genos shook his head, his full attention focused downward as he watched her hand move. “I didn’t think it could feel like this,” he admitted.
“It probably helps that I have nice, soft hands, hmm?” She kissed his cheek, pleased that she could do something like this for him. “Anytime you want to feel like this again, Genos, you can ask me. I’ll help.”
“Thank you… Fubuki…”
The whirl of blue and orange light that coursed through his body was moving faster now, and she realized that he was close to the cyborg equivalent of an orgasm. The esper was curious to see what exactly that would entail, and started moving her hand a little faster, rubbing her thumb across the tip, mimicking what she’d do were he any other man with a flesh and blood penis weighing heavily in her hand.
Suddenly Genos clutched at her forearm, squeezing painfully tight, and he let out a short shout as his metal penis visibly jerked in her hand. The steady blue glow flared to a blinding level between her fingers, making Fubuki squint and look away, but soon the glare began to die down and the esper was able to look at him again.
She smiled. “That didn’t feel not good, hmm, Genos?”
The cyborg stared at her. His mechanical pupils were huge, turning the golden glow of his irises to angel halos.
“It felt very, very good, Fubuki,” he agreed, and if a cyborg could be breathless, he definitely was.
“What if I told you it could feel even better?”
“Please show me.”
“I think you already know the basics, don’t you?”
Which was how she found herself straddling his waist as Genos stretched out on his back beneath her, hands on her hips as she began to ride him in slow, even strokes. The same vibrations he’d channeled through his fingers now thrummed between her legs and deep inside her sheath. Fubuki moaned with delight and planted her hands behind her on his thighs, supporting her weight as she let her hips rise and fall.
“Oh God, I’m not going to last long,” she gasped, leaving one hand in place and moving the other between her legs to finger her clit. He’d kept her on the edge for so long before, and her body wasn’t wasting any time ratcheting her back to that place again.
One of his robotic hands knocked hers aside so he could take over manipulating the throbbing bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. “I want to see it, Fubuki,” he rumbled, and started to move his hips in small circles, matching her slow rhythm. “Will I feel it when you finish?”
“Oh yes. Yes, you absolutely will. Oh God…”
“This already feels… very good.”
That was an understatement. If Dr. Kuseno ever gave up the cyborg business he could make a fortune crafting world class vibrating dildos. Genos was warm and smooth inside her, thick enough to provide delicious friction, long enough to touch every sweet spot along the way.
Fubuki bit her lip as she felt her orgasm begin to crest. “G...Genos, it’s… happening now. I’m cumming… Oh fuck fuck, I’m cumming. Genos!”
Her hips jerked hard as she ground herself down on his pelvis, letting her internal muscles massage his robotic cock. The cyborg held her waist firmly in both hands, keeping her in place as she rode out the aftershocks around him.
“That was very pleasant,” Genos murmured, his voice husky. “Can you do it again?”
He rolled them over so Fubuki was spread out beneath him as he began to rock his hips hard and fast, pounding into her at a pace just this side of bruising.
Fubuki wrapped her arms and legs around the cyborg and held on for dear life. Her bones felt like jelly and her muscles were melted ice cream. “You’re a natural, Genos,” she groaned into his ear as he tucked a hand under the small of her back and lifted her up, improving the angle of penetration so he could reach deeper. “YES! Oh God, right there! RIGHT THERE!”
“Based on your breathing and pulse patterns, I estimate you are three point six five seconds from another orgasm,” Genos spoke into her ear, his voice strained. “I am three point two three seconds away. I apologize for finishing first, Fubuki.”
Fubuki couldn’t respond before her abdomen flared blue from the inside, casting her organs in shadowy silhouette and flooding her with delicious warmth. Genos stuttered and shuddered to a stop on top of her as Fubuki clenched tightly around him, moaning pornographically.
“I’m sending Dr. Kuseno a Christmas card this year,” the esper gasped against the cyborg’s neck, clutching at his shoulders, her sweaty fingers slipping against smooth metal. “That was incredible.”
Genos rested his head in the hollow of her shoulder. “Yes,” he agreed, content to remain still as the woman beneath him caught her breath. “It was.”
#################
Tatsumaki woke up to gray morning light filtered through broken glass. Her head was aching, her thighs were sticky, and she wasn’t alone in bed.
“Good morning.”
The esper groaned and pulled a pillow over her head. It smelled like Saitama. “Turn off the light.”
“That’s the sun.”
“Well shut it off.”
She was aware of a general darkening of the room beyond the pillow, presumably as Saitama drew a curtain across the window. Satisfied that she wouldn’t have to stomach daylight yet, Tatsumaki emerged from under the pillow.
Saitama was propped up on one elbow beside her. “Genos and Fubuki are asleep in the kitchen,” he said. “I covered them up with a blanket, but Fubuki’s going to be sore when they wake up. I think they had sex, too.”
Tatsumaki blinked a few times as she tried to make sense of what he’d just said. “Well, yeah,” she responded after a moment. “That was the point of coming here. She got it in her head that your robot butler was hot. I don’t get it, but whatever. It kept her occupied I guess.” She frowned. “Hang on, did you see her naked just now?”
Saitama sighed and rolled his eyes. “Kind of hard not to, Tatsu. She’s sprawled across my kitchen floor.” He grinned at the esper’s puffed out cheeks and thin mouth. “Why are you jealous? I already said I don’t care.”
“I care, dummy.”
“Well stop it.” He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her onto his chest as he rolled onto his back.
Tatsumaki was too pleasantly wrung out to argue any further, so she settled for burrowing into his chest in retaliation. “You know, if anyone else finds out we did this, it’s going to be all over the news.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m near the top of S-class and you’re just some B-class nobody.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“No. You?”
“Who cares what other people think?” She rested her chin on his collarbone and peered up into his face. “You’re kind of weird, Saitama.”
“Clearly, since I fell for you.”
“Oi!” She punched him in the shoulder. “Wait. What?”
“I said I’d have to be weird because I fell for you.”
“You… fell for me?”
“Duh. You think I’d give just anyone six orgasms in one night?” He snorted and closed his eyes. “Go back to sleep.”
“I don’t want to. I’m all sticky and covered in sweat and bodily fluids and I want to take a shower.” But she nestled back down on his chest, a secret smile painted across her lips.
“Take one in an hour. We’ll take one together. Save water. Kay?”
“Mm,” she agreed with a little nod. He was stroking her hair, which normally would have annoyed her and made her think he was patronizing her. Right now it just felt comfortable.
“Night, Tatsu,” Saitama mumbled.
“Baka. It’s daytime.”
“Mornin’ then.”
She rolled her eyes and then let them drift closed. “Shut up and sleep, baldy.”
He was already snoring.
THE END