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“Oh, dude,” saitama groaned, stacking his bowl on the pile of plates next to him, “that was awesome.”
“I am glad you liked it, Master,” Genos said, rising to take his dishes to the kitchen. He’d clean them later, at the moment he had more important things to do.
He removed the bowl of homemade vanilla ice cream from the fridge and cut up a banana, sprinkling the chunks on top. He unconsciously licked his fangs at the thought of feeding it to his Master, they had progressively lengthened as he’d watched Saitama gorge himself on the rich, heavy food Genos had made for him.
He walked out, but froze in place when he clapped eyes on the sight in front of him. Saitama had leaned back, pulling his pyjama top up, and was rubbing his distended stomach. He had his eyes closed, so he grunted in surprise when two, much colder, hands joined his. Genos had settled behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and rubbing the area just below Saitama’s belly button. The soft contented noises that Saitama made in the back of his throat caused Genos bite his lip, his fangs eager to sink into soft flesh.
“Master,” he breathed into Saitama’s ear. “Open your eyes.”
“No, man, no more. I’m so full…” He groaned, when he caught sight of the ice cream in front of him.
“Please, Master? You need to keep up your strength. I get worried. And tonight is the night.”
“Alright, alright. I suppose a bowl of ice cream can’t hurt. But just one.” He said sternly.
He’d been down this road before, Genos offering him piece after piece of some delicious dessert until Saitama had eaten the whole thing. His waistline had suffered the most, not enough to warrant new clothes but he now sported a comfortable layer of chub on his stomach. I need to work out more, he thought to himself, chewing on a banana chunk, maybe sit-ups or something. Stuff I can do at home without buying a gym membership. He supposed it wasn’t so bad though, especially since Genos liked to kiss the crumbs off his face and . But this time he’d stay resolute.
By the time he’d finished the deceptively small bowl of ice cream, Saitama had gone from comfortably full to uncomfortably over-full. He tried to regret it, he really did, but Genos was way too talented a cook and everything he made took him to heaven and back. He drank down the dregs of the melted ice cream and burped before leaning back into Genos’ embrace.
“Okay… ’m ready…” Saitama murmured sleepily, letting his head loll to the side and exposing his neck.
Genos wasted no time in licking a stripe up saitama’s neck, tracing the faint white line that had developed over time. He waited a few seconds for his saliva to numb the spot before using a fang to make a very shallow cut. He lapped up the blood the oozed out and repeated the process of slowly deepening the cut and cleaning it out with his tongue; scrape down, lick up.
Meanwhile, vampire venom coupled with the heavy meal he’d just enjoyed, and an expert tummy rub, Saitama was in utter bliss. Genos’ thorough approach left ample time for the poison to make its way from his neck to the rest of his body. The numbness made him feel like he was floating and a huge smile spread itself across his face.
He could tell when Genos was ready to drink when he latched into his neck like a limpet and sucked. The vein wall he’d painstakingly scraped at burst open and Genos closed his eyes and hummed as sweet, hot blood pumped into his mouth and down his throat. Time seemed to slow as he greedily drank, his whole world revolved around the taste of Saitama on his tongue and the pleasant way it warmed his cold insides.
Too soon, he had to stop. Switching to the healing venom, he stemmed the flow with his tongue and held it over the opening so that it could take effect. For good measure he pinched the cut closed with his fingers, to help the flesh knit together. The end result was a faint pink line that would soon fade to white. Genos nuzzled into it, reveling in Saitama’s scent and the feeling of a full stomach.
“How do you feel, Master?” He whispered against his neck.
In lieu of answering, Saitama gave a happy gurgle and burped. Genos smiled and stood, taking Saitama with him to bed. It was a little more difficult when he was post-feeding, Saitama was as floppy as a rag doll and Genos was a little blood-drunk. But he managed, somehow.
Saitama opened his eyes briefly to wish Genos a good night, but he only managed a slurred ‘g'nah,’ though Genos understood the sentiment.
“Good night, Master. Sleep tight, and don’t let the vampires bite.”