Saitama breathes deep, relaxing his body in the mess of gentle-slick tentacles skimming over his body. His legs dangle off the dock, toes almost touching the water, peering at the intense face between his thighs. Golden hair drips wet over eerie eyes, side-pupils meeting Saitama’s own gaze.
“You know you don’t have to call me that.”
The moon hangs full overhead, casting it’s silver glow over the gentle waves, the humble fisherman, the sea-prince who’s obsessed with him.
“I can call you by no other title, Saitama-sensei. In our brief time together you have taught me more about the sea than I could have discovered in a lifetime. You saved my life when I was adrift on the waves, and I feel you have also saved my drifting heart.”
“Genos, genos stop-” Saitama chuckles nervously, holding up his hands, there’s the slightest flush of a pink on his face. “Where’s all this sappy stuff coming from? I thought we were gonna fuck.”
“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, the tentacles that had been absent-mindedly caressing him stilling. Seawater drips down Saitama’s neck. “You are correct, as always, sensei.”
Genos grins, the human part of his body rising from the water, being pulled up by the tentacles wrapped round the dock. Saitama swallows, shifting back.