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[synchronized]

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[toebeans]

[ Sometimes, Shiro says lazily and stretches underneath the long, lean line of Keith's body over him. Sometimes, he still can't get over it- how he has this, how instead of the hard cot, or the stone ground, he's got Keith, looking down at him like this. It doesn't matter what the context is; Keith's here. He's warm and solid and more than anything else, he's safe.

Shiro's vulnerable like this- it takes a lot for him to get shirtless, to get naked let alone to be so bare in front of someone in the context of sex, but it's Keith. Keith, who he would trust with anything, everything. His life, and the lives of anyone else. Keith, who Shiro loves more than anyone else. When he's told later, he reclines back into the pillow and stretches his arms to the headboard a moment, swallowing hard. It'd be foolish to think that he's going to get out of this without some form of punishment, especially now that he has the lube in hand, and after that squeeze to his cock.

No one else gets to see him like this. Pushing Shiro's boundaries but assuring him at the same time, always knowing just where to go, how hard to push. This, he thinks, is a far better spiral for his mind to get caught in: how much he loves Keith, rather than tomorrow.

Patiently, he lets Keith stroke him, minimizing just how much he pushes up into Keith's hand, just to be good, for once. It's still a thrill seeing Keith lick his palm clean like that, though, just like it was when he'd licked into Shiro's mouth after coming there. Swallowing, he licks over his teeth, lifting his hips a little bit to make it easier. He expects the fingers inside him, but he doesn't expect that Keith's going to keep stroking him off even as he works one, then two into him. It's not too fast, it's not impatient but it's brisk, it's a stretch that makes his belly flip with the rush of heat. Swallowing hard, he twists his hands into the sheets in an attempt to obey and then starts talking, voice rough, fucked-out. ]

I want to suck you off before the mission tomorrow. In the morning. I want to still be tasting you when we -- shit, Keith-

[ Three fingers in and it's good, God, it's good but it's edging the line between not enough and just right. He jerks, shudders underneath Keith's fingers and when they finally speed up, when it's hard and ripping ragged, throaty noises out of him, that's when he thinks, yes, making punched out little ah, ah, ah sounds every time his fingers go knuckle deep, grazing over his prostate. He tries to ride his hand as best as possible, but then Keith moves again and he should know by now that it's Keith, nothing should shock him, but he slides down and swallows around him. ]

Oh-- oh, Keith, I can't, I can't, I'm sorry I'm --

[ He didn't ask, he didn't make sure it was okay but orgasm slams into him like a fucking star going supernova, white-hot and overwhelming and Shiro twists, jerks in the sheets as Keith fucks into him with his fingers and tugs at his balls, surrounds his cock with wet-hot heat. Maybe, it's a little bit of the fact that he didn't ask, combined with his hands grappling, grabbing for Keith's hair, pulling as he fucks up into his mouth with an apologetic little noise riding it out.

It's too much -- he notices what he's done only after the fact, clenched hard around Keith's fingers, pulsing around them and the last few pulses of his orgasm into Keith's mouth until he's pressing his cheek into the pillows, panting. ]

I-- give me a second.

[synchronized]

[ keith doubts he'll ever stop finding shiro as breath-taking as he does now. shiro arches up off the thin sheets, his muscles working under his skin as he moves with bob of keith's head along shiro's cock, and it's like watching time stop - watching it stretch in the push and pull of shiro's fingers on the sheets, the draw and release of his lungs as they expand in his chest. even the sound of him, his voice pitching higher than anyone has ever heard him - keith has jerked off to it before, has come undone just from shiro pouring horrible, filthy things into his ears.

it must seem morbid; it seems so even to himself, in truth. but as keith looks up at shiro - as he watches the color rise high on the man's cheeks, watches it spread down to his neck and chest - he can't help but hum around the cock in mouth. he can feel himself getting hard again, not the urgent sort of burn from before but in slow waves that crash over him. keith shifts, works his mouth this way and that, finding an angle with the least resistance so he can take shiro's considerable length even further in. he can feel the shape of him pressing against the walls of his throat - and keith can't help himself, he lets his eyes fall shut and he whimpers from how good it feels to have shiro inside him like this.

he wants— fuck, he wants to—

shiro starts ramble on, gasping apologies like a litany, and it's all the warning keith needs to pull back and catch the first streaks of come on his tongue. it's a matter of timing after that, and keith has gotten very good at timing - he swallows down in time with every twitch, catching every spill in perfect tandem with his fingers rolling over shiro's prostate. by the time shiro's coming up empty, keith is laving pettishly over the slit, running the tip of tongue over the sensitive glans.

shiro asks, and so sweetly too, for a moment of reprieve. ]

Mm, [ keith tries, coughing against the inside of shiro's thigh to clear his throat. his fingers have yet to slow down in their insistent press against the older man. ] No.

[ shiro's length lies flaccid against keith's cheek, and he slips it back in his mouth, playing with the head like hard candy on the tongue. it might as well be; keith can't get enough of the taste of him. ]

You can handle it.

[ this time, when his fingers move inside shiro again, keith edges in a fourth finger - slowly pushes in with his fingers curved towards his palm, resting the knuckle of his thumb against the rim. he's not going to fist shiro tonight; it's part of the limits, after all, that shiro has to be able to sit still long enough to pilot in the morning. but the insinuation of it should be statement enough. keith running the flat of his thumb along shiro's taint, pressing down where his fingers are pressing in on the other side, should be enough. ]

You can fuck yourself on my fingers like this, can't you, Shiro? [ keith folds an arm across shiro's hips, leans his weight on it so shiro can't roll his hips up. like this, shiro's cock is left with nothing to fuck against but air. maybe a patch of skin on keith's forearm, if he angles it right. maybe he'll even bump against keith's chin if he's feeling nice about it. ] You can come like this. You'll do it for me.

[toebeans]

[ Orgasm always leaves him a little syrupy slow, a little sleepy, pliant and able to be pushed or pulled into almost anything. He wouldn't be shocked to learn that Keith's used it to get Shiro to agree to go to bed earlier, or to do something else that he didn't necessarily want to do but was more willing to once he was one orgasm in, sprawled over whatever surface Keith had drawn it out of him on.

Already, he's a little less tense at the state of things; Keith withdraws from where he's bent over Shiro's cock, lips spitslick and shining, still pressed between Shiro's legs. He should've known, though; there wasn't any punishment for what happened, yet. Shiro'd been mouthy, but he hadn't paid for it and when Keith's fingers don't do anything but keep moving he starts to get an idea of exactly what's about to happen. ]

Oh. Keith--

[ It almost sounds like a protest, but they both know he can take it. Whatever the Galra did to him, he recovers faster. It's one of the reasons he doesn't need as much sleep. Whatever it is they've done means that Keith can roll him through from one orgasm to the next. It's not pleasant in the typical sense, of course; it rides the knife-sharp edge of too much, too painful and pleasurable beyond all reason but of course they're used to playing that line. Of course Keith's going to go this route.

He feels the fourth finger press at the slickness of his hole, feels it push in and it drags a ragged, jerky noise out of him as he twists on the sheets and very nearly whines through it. It's so much -- God, it's so much and Keith knows it, is doing it intentionally judging by the way that thumb pushes as his taint like a threat and a promise all in one. The second orgasm isn't ever that bad necessarily. The third, and fourth, that's where things get to be too much and he's not sure if they're going to get to that point, but a part of him is thrilled to consider it.

Keith's talking to him, though, and he needs, he needs to focus, needs to nail down his thoughts enough to track what's happening. --can't you, Keith asks and Shiro breathes out an unsteady noise, arm lifting to throw it over his eyes. The problem with this is that it gets harder (ha, he thinks weakly) to come every time. He tries to be good, tries to brace his feet into the bed and roll his hips down against Keith's fingers but with the arm holding him down, his cock doesn't have anything to push against and his hips can't roll up. If Keith's going to work him over like this, there's not much regret he feels in reaching a hand down, petting it through Keith's hair as he tries to fuck himself on the harsh stretch of Keith's fingers, gasping. Back to back, it doesn't take long like this, like a roller coaster where he drops off the big hill and the second follows too quickly. It rolls through him with a few more targeted strokes of Keith's fingers and the ache of his cock, come spilling from the flushed tip with each push of Keith's fingers. Shiro writhes underneath him, toes curling so hard they threaten to cramp, fingers clenching in Keith's hair before he forgets himself. Keith-- he manages and it sounds like it's fucking ripped out of him, breathing fast and shallow where he's got his face half-mashed in the pillow he's resting on. Every jerk of his hips drags his cock tantalizingly close to Keith's arm, to his chin, but it's not quite close enough. It doesn't matter; whatever the Galra did to him makes this too easy for orgasms to chain together, though he doesn't think that was really their intent. ]

[synchronized]

[ sometimes keith wonders what his life would be like if he hadn't met shiro. it'd be a lot less complicated, certainly - but the thought of even that is unappealing. shiro gave him a sense of direction, whether he'd intended to or not. keith found a family again through him, in him, found a home in the warmth of his arms and the salt-sweetness of his skin.

shiro's coming a second time just bare minutes after the first, striping keith's jaw with come hard enough to paint a few streaks across the bridge of his nose, and all keith could think of as the man gasps for air against the pillows under him is: god, i love him.

not that keith's ever been the religious type. if he ever believed in church, then his god is right here, spread out and undone by keith's own fingers, incandescent in the crash of sensations as his second orgasm overtakes him, held at a knife's edge with the harsh allure of a third. keith's own pulse roars loud in his ears, and he's certain that he's hard again - he can feel the rough press of his fly against his dick, the uncomfortable stick of dried comes and spit on his skin.

he pulls out of shiro with a soft wet sound, taking his fingers from shiro's ass one at a time before ducking low and laving wetly from the rim of the muscle up to shiro's balls. was he this sweet before? keith doesn't remember if shiro's always tasted so good to him on his tongue before he left for the kerberos mission. he definitely wasn't this sensitive, definitely not quick to come; loathe as he is to admit it, keith is grateful to the galra for this one thing.

shiro's shaking under him; these little tremors run up and down his thighs and keith finally relents, moving his weight off shiro's hips and leaning back on his calves. both hands - both stained in lubricant, left tacky - trace the line of shiro's limbs, attempting to soothe him as keith takes in the whole sight of the man. his own breathing has run ragged, his fringe is sticking to his forehead, his shirt sticking to his back. ]

I'm right here, I've got you, [ keith reassures him, even as he's stripping off his own shirt, using it to wipe his hands somewhat clean. ] You're doing really good.

[ his trousers and pants come off next, and keith gives himself a few strokes as he hovers over shiro. he hasn't cleaned the come still on his face; keith doesn't care that it's there, but when he wipes it off with the back of his hand and looks at the mess of it, he wonders if shiro's always come this much, and this thickly.

he catches shiro looking up at him, and keith matches his gaze as cleans off the mess on his hand. keeps his eyes pinned on the flush of shiro's cheeks as he picks up the lube and squeezes a generous amount on his palm before taking himself in hand with it. ]

Knees up or face down, Shiro. Pick one.

[toebeans]

[ He's wondered the same thing before, of course. It's never been in the context of wishing he never met Keith, but more in the context of wondering where Keith would be if he hadn't met Shiro. He had the drive, the skill, the ability to get himself far, and while Shiro'd saved him from some scrapes with the Garrison authorities, had convinced them to let some things go that they might not have, Shiro thinks that Keith still would have done well. What it boils down to, is wondering if Keith would have been better off if he never got caught up in all this.

Then again, what were the odds? Five of them meeting all at the same time. Finding that castle. Being together, being the ones to pilot. For all he knew, it was fate. Magic, maybe, that drew them together. Nothing seemed impossible, these days, not with the Galra, with aliens, with the fact that magic, of a sort, existed.

That, of course, makes that tiny little part of Shiro that's helplessly a romantic, hopelessly in love with Keith, wonder if they were meant to be together as much as anyone could be. How else did you explain being caught together and separated, over and over again. He was caught in Keith's gravitational pull, swung in every so often and it was a relief, more than anything else.

He can't move for a long moment, once he's finally let himself relax from the tension orgasm pushed through him, but he watches Keith move. Watches the way he holds himself, sliding off of Shiro, face a mess. The removal of his fingers gets a noise out of him; Shiro's back arches a little despite himself, throat bobbing with a vicious swallow as he feels himself clench around nothing, now, aching to have something filling him back up again. Soon, he knows, so he doesn't complain.

Damp fingers run down the line of his legs and Shiro drops his arm to his side heavily from where it'd been half covering his eyes, his face, and takes in the sight of him. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, but he's still greedy for it, like a man in the desert finally presented with water. ]

I know. You always do.

[ The praise doesn't go amiss, either. Shiro doesn't quite bask in it but he gives Keith a look, eyes lidded, arching his back almost languidly as he stretches out formerly tense muscles and prepares for whatever comes next. Keith's hard again and while his mouth waters at the idea of swallowing him down again, he knows this is headed somewhere else.

Finally, God, finally Keith's pulling off his pants, and that's a sight, Shiro's come on his face, his cock flushed and hard between his thighs, his fingers still slick from where they'd been buried inside him, shining in the dim lighting of the room. Better, is when the lube comes back out and he slicks his palm with it, strokes it over his cock. I could've taken care of that for you, Shiro almost points out; he's open enough, slick enough that he probably could've taken it but he'd also been the one to ask to make sure he could sit the next day. It's the responsible choice to make, so he instead pushes himself up and scoots closer, drops an arm around Keith's shoulders and presses a lingering kiss to his jaw, the corner of his lips, dropping a hand down to touch Keith's cock, letting his fingers skim over the slickness of it.

Either sounds good; with his face buried in the pillow, he can keep himself stifled because he has a feeling Keith's going to break every bit of that wound-tight self control he has, like he always does. On the other hand, Keith bending him in half and digging bruises into his thighs, pushing his knees up to his ears and making him take it is also appealing. That's not a decision he cares to make, because both sound so good it doesn't matter. ]

What do you want?

[synchronized]

[ what does keith want? he wants a lot of things. he wants for them to never have to leave this room, because he's innately selfish where shiro's concerned; he wants for the galra to just stop, to give up this dream of overtaking the rest of the universe because what does that even prove, what would that purpose even serve beyond having power for the sake of power; he wants to go back to earth, with shiro right beside him, and maybe they'll be able to pick up where they left off but if that is an impossibility then he can live with that too.

he doesn't want a future where shiro isn't there. as far as keith is concerned, there isn't a point to any of this if he can't save the one person who matters the most to him.

(he doesn't know how soon he'll have to prove that. hindsight is a cursed thing.) ]

I want you to ride me until you're too sore to remember you have to pilot in the morning. [ honesty; not always the best policy, but keith is the worst liar he knows. ] I want you to fuck me and fill me up with your come until I can't hold it in me, and I want you to eat me out after that, spit it all back into my mouth and make me swallow it while you choke me on your cock.

[ keith is nowhere near shiro's size, but he hitches the man high on his lap all the same, fucking up to shiro's hands in tight circles, getting lube everywhere he can. god, he's so slick like this; he'll slide right in without any resistance like this.

he reaches up with one hand and pinches one of shiro's nipples until it's an angry red, twists it until he's sure it hurts. ]

I wanna come all over your face, all over these, [ keith sighs as shiro palms the head of his cock in a rough downstroke; keith runs his own palms over shiro's chests, running the flat of his palms over the perked up nubs, slicking them up too. ]

Right now though, I just want to fuck you until you can't think anymore.

[toebeans]

[ They'll succeed tomorrow, Shiro has to believe that. Not just because the rest of the team depends on their survival, their success, but because he wants all of that. All the filthy, dirty things that he and Keith can possibly think up, but also all the softer things. They have to win tomorrow. They have to take out the Galra, have to take down Zarkon. They have to win.

Deep in his head, he feels Black uncurl and stretch out massive paws, digging her claws in, like she's claiming him, agreeing. But if something happens, you have to take care of Keith, too. He's made her promise this a thousand and a half times since this started so she doesn't object, but he knows she's possessive. She wants him back, wants only one paladin at a time, wants things to be uncomplicated.

Black isn't who or what he wants to think about right now, though, so he gently shuts the wall up again between them and works to shift with Keith until he can wind himself around Keith with a low, pleased hum, threading one hand through his hair while the other starts jerking him off, listening to him talk. It's much easier to do when he's distracted like this, Keith's hand sliding up his chest, slick. ]

There'll be time for that tomorrow and every day after. [ It's not a promise; it's whispered as a suggestion as he nuzzles a kiss into Keith's cheek, leans in enough to nip at his earlobe and grinds their cocks together, the slickness of it perfect, while Keith's hands slide up. The snap of pain is enough to side track him, though; he makes a punched out little noise and pulls back which just pulls harder at the grip Keith has on his nipple. It's enough that it pulls a strangled little groan from him, over-sensitive from orgasm but still aching for it, for anything Keith wants to give him, anything they're going to share tonight. He doesn't hold back the little noises Keith wrings from him: the little sigh at the slick push of his hands over over-sensitive nipples, the little hum in the back of his throat when he considers what Keith's talking about, when he imagines it. ]

Is that what you want. [ Getting sappy, getting overly sweet right now isn't what either of them are looking for - that's when it's over, when they're both spent and sweaty and lying as close as two people can shy of being actively inside each other. Shiro squeezes his hand around Keith's dick, makes it a tight tunnel for him to fuck through, the wet head of him pushing through the ring his index finger and thumb make and then Shiro drags his thumb in mean little circles over the head of him, leaning in to tug at Keith's bottom lip with his teeth, equal parts mean, teasing, and a little demanding. ] So why are you waiting. You know how wet and open I am just for you, for your cock.

[ He drags his fist over Keith again, holds at the base of him and then sweeps up again until he can squeeze just shy of too tight. ] I want you to fuck me until I can't think, and then I want to get in my armor tomorrow and feel your come leaking out of me.

[ He's not sure he could actually do it. He won't do anything that directly could result in him not being able to pilot at 100% capacity, but that's a thought, isn't it. Getting in his armor and feeling Keith's come slipping out of him. Or, better: they put a plug in him and keep it there, keep him full and he doesn't get to touch himself until Keith says. ]

[synchronized]

[ "it's the thought that counts" — whoever invented that sentiment ought to be taken out back and kneed in the groin.

keith bites shiro's shoulder, teeth leaving perfect imprints in half-moons on the man's skin. his fingers are gentle on the man's wrist, gentler still when he traces fingertips down to where shiro has him in a firm grip, and keith unfurls each of shiro's fingers until his fist is loosed - shiro's hands are pushed aside, the measure of keith's actions careful and dangerously tender. leading shiro to rise up on his knees takes little direction; he goes easy, as keith falls back on the sheets, finding purchase in digging heels against the mattress.

he guides shiro's galra hand to rest on the bed, but shiro's human hand - that one, he lays flat over his chest, on the left where his heart would be. ]

Like this, [ keith tells him, calmly dragging the sharp of his nails down the top of shiro's thighs just for the welts that rise from the gesture. he repeats it along the inside of shiro's thighs - cuts close to where he's quickly hanging heavy, quickly growing turgid - before sliding hand up thigh and pressing two fingers into shiro.

he guides shiro down onto his cock like this - with one hand on his hip, while the other hand has two fingers hooked inside shiro, forcing him open, fucking into him while his fingers are still inside him, watching the minute changes of expression on shiro's face flicker past like an unchoreographed reel. shiro's voice is the soundtrack, the dips and sighs of his voice in escalation, and all through the wet slide of shiro fucking himself down on keith's cock the only noise keith makes is that of shiro's name. ]

Shiro, [ keith can't help gasp as finally, finally shiro's fully seated on him, hips rolling in impatient little circles, shiro's considerable weight bearing down on him. it's only then that he pulls his fingers away from shiro's hole, patting shiro's belly in praise; good boy. ] Come on.

[ he takes shiro's length in both hands, this time. there's no hesitation in keith's touch, no teasing in the way he's jerking shiro off, practically stripping the slick off him with the tight squeeze of his grip. it's a single-minded handjob, aiming for shiro's release as efficiently as possible. ]

Take what you need. I've got you.

fucking italics

[toebeans]

[ This is better than either of the options presented, earlier. He doesn't want control, exactly, but this -- this isn't control. He might be the one on top but there's no illusions about the fact that no matter what the position is right now, Keith's the one running the show and it's a relief just as much as it is a turn on.

His breath hitches at the flash of pain when Keith's teeth dig into skin, the imprint there something he wishes he could tattoo into his flesh, keeping a piece of Keith with him wherever he goes. The Galra branded him with scars and burns and claws and the marks of that are pressed into his skin but the memories are not. Keith brands him with hot hands, his mouth, the press of teeth but it's what he wants, it's just what he needs, because no one else quite gets him like Keith does.

Gently, he settles in over the long line of him spread out in the bed like a buffet, like an altar to worship at. He's pliant: Keith positions him how he likes, Galra hand curled in the bed, hand pressed light against Keith's chest where he can feel his heart beating like a caught bird in the cage of his ribs.

It takes a moment to settle, Keith's hands guiding him where he wants Shiro to be. The first touch of the wet slide of Keith's cock is almost jarring, moreso than the two fingers he's got buried inside him, but then he pushes and the wet head of him slides in, slick and easy. This is what he wanted. Shiro's head tilts back and he breathes a sigh at the ceiling, sliding down until Keith's in him completely, hips pushing up with what little bit of room he has to drag his cock over the inside of him. A moment he wants to plead, cock still over-sensitive, all his nerves lit up. The gentle pat gets a soft breath in response but then Keith starts tugging at his cock, harsh and tight and God, God, it's too much, it's sensory overload like the first time he got into Black and was aware of everything all at once. ]

Wait -- [ It's a plea, a command all in one but Shiro's body starts moving without him. His thighs flex, muscles cording when they strain to lift him up and then slide him back down, the slickhot drag of Keith's cock inside him ripping another noise from him. Orgasms one and two come easily enough, but anything after that, despite how hard his cock is, how much he wants it, take some effort sometimes. Keith knows how to drag them out of him, knows just the right tightness to hold him at, the right speed and he thinks: it's impossible, but it's not. A few ragged, unsteady rises up and down and orgasm swells, breaks over him. He doesn't have the breath to cry out, but it hurts in the best of ways, come dribbling down Keith's knuckles, balls drawn tight as he forces himself up and down, forces himself to ride through it, clenching, flexing around Keith's cock. ] No, it's too much, Keith--

[ It's not the safeword, though; he knows how to get out of this if it actually gets to be too much. That's the difference between the Galra and Keith - he never had a word to beg mercy with when he was with them. With Keith, one word stops all of it, but he doesn't need that because Keith always knows how much he can take better than Shiro can. He's still hard in Keith's grasp, but it hurts, a white-hot ache that flares through his entire body as he rises up again, clenching tight on the way down and rolls his hips. ]

hehehe

[synchronized]

[ he's not there yet - he's not halfway there yet, no matter how exquisite heat sheathing his cock, shiro bearing down on him and tightening up the best he could when he empties out for keith for the third time tonight. shiro's rim is starting to catch on the small ridges at the base of keith's cock, the only physical manifestation of keith's galra blood - every hitch drags a punched-up grunt from him, stoking the banks of his want with every drop of shiro's hips. keith's orgasms take their time to burn when he's not chasing them, something that he doesn't feel any shame for when he's riding shiro's ass on nights when one of them needs to forget about the worlds they're meant to save at a moment's notice.

it's only an incongruity on the surface. shiro is a vision brought to life, and that's not just ill-timed poetry from a sex-addled imagination; shiro's cut, his muscles wrought from fighting and physical exertion, not a single dimple or curve earned for the purposes of display. then on the other hand, there's keith: wiry, lean at best, all limbs and rough angles and sand-hewn attitude come to bear, quick to draw and even quicker to fire. yet here they are, in a borrowed room, where shiro's missing refractory period gets frequently tested by keith's patience in bed. ]

You can take a little more, Shiro, [ keith hushes him. his only concession to shiro's ragged breathing and straining thighs is the loosening of his fingers on the man's length; beyond that, he doesn't stop teasing, testing, pushing. ] You've taken more than this before.

[ and shiro has - dangerously, terrifyingly taken more than even keith had thought he'd be willing to, holding steady even when keith's in him up to his wrists, biting on his tongue even when keith is expecting a whispered no after the thirtieth, fortieth, fifthieth lash of a leather belt on the back of his thighs.

keith gets it. he understands that sometimes the best way to completely unpack the complicated weight of saving a galaxy is to get on one's knees and beg to be used as a cumbucket while one's hands are tied up with one's ankles. so he keeps a steady watch for the signs that shiro's tapping out, has to tap out for his own good - that he's still on green, bordering on yellow, never stepping foot into red.

at the same time, he's not going to give shiro any room to think. he's snapping his hips up, rarely erring in his aim at the man's prostate as he fucks into him. keith knows he looks a mess - shiro easily dwarfs him in size, and he's got shiro's spend still drying on him. ]

Just one more for me and I'll take care of the rest for you, yeah? Don't you want that? Come on, Takashi. Do it for me.

[toebeans]

[ For better or worse, he's always, always been able to take more than he ever anticipated. It's a fault, sometimes - more often than not. Haggar used it to her advantage. The pit bosses used it to theirs when fighting him. He's used it, when trying desperately to survive.

Keith's not like that. Keith watches out for how much is too much and eases him to an end, or gives him enough of a break he can build back up to it. Keith plays him like an instrument, plucking and tugging and working him through one to the next until he's worn out and exhausted in the best of ways. His thighs strain again as he rises, slides down slower this time and savors the sensation of Keith's cock inside him.

Orgasm won't come easily this time and he doesn't chase it, even if Keith's pushing him toward it unerringly. Now, he can think a little more clearly, even if the haze of orgasm and over-stimulation threaten to knock him sideways. Two can play at this, though, and he doesn't want to be the only one getting off on this. Shiro lets himself sink down one more time and flexes around him, hands splaying on Keith's belly, dragging up through the mess of his come until he can thumb over his nipples. He plays with them for a few moments, pinching and plucking and then bends over, licking away the come smeared that high, dragging his teeth over the flushed peak of one even as he rolls his hips into each thrust.

Like this, he's able to control more; if Keith wanted to make requests, he shouldn't have chosen this. Shiro rolls his eyes up to him and spreads his thighs shamelessly, rests the full amount of his weight on Keith's hips and doesn't let him fuck up into him while his mouth is busy. He's too tall to do much like that, so instead he presses a line of bites and kisses up Keith's collarbone, to his throat. ]

I want you to put on your armor tomorrow and feel this.

[ He bites at Keith's earlobe, cock half-hard and fattening slowly between their bellies as Shiro braces over him. ]

Want you to feel me.

[ One hand lifts, cups Keith's cheek and guides him into a kiss. It starts kind, just a soft press of lips, a graze of his teeth over his plush lower one, and then Shiro slides a hand into the hair at the nape and back of Keith's head and pulls, down, hard. It's sharp and a little mean and he smiles into the kiss, thighs flexing as he rises up and fucks back down, lets his groan get swallowed into Keith's mouth and the messy kiss. ]