Saitama was…confused. Yeah, that’s the word to use here,
“Uh, so this is some kinda alien thing?” he asked, walking
around the huge, massive really, multi-coloured cake? Was it really a cake?
After all it was made with ingredients from another planet and had like ten
layers, each one with a different density so the top was nearly translucent.
“Yes, it’s a show of acceptance. Five layers are
traditional, seven are expected but ten I’ve never seen. The people of this
planet adore you,” Boros explained, beaming down at him. And Saitama really
wanted to see this as a good thing, because A) free food and B) Boros was super
happy but this was just so weird.
“Yeah okay,” he mumbled, crossing his arms and tilting his
head, how was one person supposed to eat all this because he’d been told the ‘Masau’
was all for him. Boros glanced down at him, his lips twitching, before dropping
to his knees.
“Beloved, allow me to show you how we eat Masau,” the
Cyclop murmured, reaching for the space cake and dragging two fingers through one
of the more substantial layers. Well okay, through the one that looked like
blue frosting with pink star shaped sprinkles, the colour of the frosting was a
shade or two darker than Boros’ skin and the sprinkles were lighter than his
tongue. How did he know that? Because Boros had just stuck his tongue out and
licked the frosting off his fingers.
“Uh, dude?” he started trying to remain calm, to not fixate
on the alien’s tongue, to forget how nice it felt against his skin. This wasn’t
the time or place to jump his ‘mate’, they were in the middle of the cafeteria,
crew members could walk in at any second but. But fuck did Boros look good, his
single eye half lidded, a devious little smirk playing on his parted lips and
he was basically kneeling in front of him.
Fuck it. Saitama didn’t have to lean far to catch those
cool blue lips, Boros was so much bigger than him that even while kneeling he
was still tall. The taste of the frosting exploded between their mouths,
something sweet, something tart like apples but not, and it mixed so damn well
with Boros’ own taste.
Earth’s hero didn’t even realise he’d been swept of his
feet, that he was sitting on Boros’ arms. He was too caught up in the kiss, in
chasing down every last trace of the Masau or whatever, in licking every square
inch of his lover’s mouth and sucking on tongue that rubbed against his so
“More, beloved?” Boros purred, not even winded while
Saitama’s chest heaved as he panted. He glared weakly, too turned on, too
overwhelmed to answer with words.
Boros must’ve understood though, since he was reaching for
more of the space cake and was still smirking. Bastard.